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Content Warning: This chapter contains profanity and sexual content.
Note: This chapter will be shorter in length.
─── ⛧⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆⛧ ───
People think the mind is complex. It's not.
I stood at the front of the lecture hall, gripping a piece of chalk like it was the only thing grounding me. The room was full of young, eager faces, all of them oblivious to the truths they were here to learn or the danger sitting right in front of them.
Her.
My eyes found her in the middle row, half-hidden behind that dark, messy hair she'd clung to last night when she screamed into the pillow. She sat stiffly, her hands clenched in her lap, and I couldn't help but notice how tightly her thighs were pressed together.
Pretending I didn't fuck her senseless just hours ago.
I gritted my teeth, my hand tightening around the chalk until it nearly snapped. Of all the damn classrooms in this city, you had to end up in mine?
It was pathetic. She was pathetic. Hiding her face like it mattered, like she hadn't begged me to take her apart last night, like she hadn't melted beneath me.
And me? I'd let it happen. I let myself sink into her, lose control, feel her clawing at my back like she'd die if I stopped. I didn't stop. Not until she was trembling, undone, and utterly fucked out.
I should've walked away when it was over. Hell, I should've done worse.
I should have snap that pretty neck of hers.
But here she was, staring at the board like it would save her.
I turned, chalk slashing across the surface as I scrawled the word PSYCHOLOGY in jagged letters. The scrape of it felt like a warning shot, a reminder to myself to stay in control.
"Psychology," I began, my voice cutting through the quiet, "is the study of the mind and behavior. Why we think the way we do. Why we act the way we do."
I glanced at her again. Her shoulders were tense, her lips pressed together. She wasn't writing anything down.
Probably still sore, I thought, biting back a smirk.
"Take something simple," I continued, pacing the room. "A candy bar. You see it on a counter. You want it. Why?"
"It tastes good," someone muttered from the back.
"Exactly," I said, turning toward the voice. "Pleasure. Your brain craves it. But now, imagine someone else owns that candy bar. Now it's not just about satisfying your craving, it's about power. Taking what isn't yours."
My gaze swept the room, lingering on her. Her breath hitched, barely audible.
She remembers. Good.
"Humans are driven by three instincts: survival, pleasure, and dominance," I said, my tone softening, deepening. "Everything you do, every choice, every mistake, comes back to those three things."
Like my mistake last night.
My eyes roamed over her, unbidden, tracing the curve of her neck down to the loose sweater that couldn't hide the outline of her breasts. I knew exactly how they felt in my hands, how perfectly they fit.
Fucking hell.
I forced myself to look away, gesturing to the board. "Pleasure motivates you to seek out what feels good. Survival ensures you avoid pain. And dominance? That's about control, over others, over yourself."
A hand went up. Some idiot in the front row.
"So... love and empathy don't count?" he asked, his voice annoyingly smug.
I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms. "Love is just a fancy word for attachment. It's a survival mechanism. You bond with others because it benefits you; physically, emotionally, socially. Empathy's the same. You don't want to hurt someone because, deep down, you know it'll hurt you, too."
The boy nodded, satisfied, and I took the opportunity to steal another glance at her.
She was staring straight at me now, her dark eyes locked onto mine. There was no hiding in that moment. No pretending she wasn't thinking about how I'd pinned her down, how I'd bitten her shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.
She shifted in her seat, her thighs pressing together again. My cock twitched at the memory of her legs wrapped around my waist, trembling as I drove her over the edge again and again.
Focus, you fucking idiot.
I turned back to the board, gripping the chalk hard enough that it snapped in half.
"Perception," I said, scrawling the word beneath PSYCHOLOGY. "The way we see ourselves versus the way others see us. It shapes behavior. Influences decisions."
The words were coming out, but my mind was elsewhere. I could still feel her skin under my hands, the way her body arched against me, begging for more. She'd been so submissive, so damn eager to please. The way she whimpered , hell, she didn't even know my name, but it didn't matter.
I wanted to hear it again. The screaming. The begging. Everything.
Another hand went up, dragging me back to the present.
"What about people who act without thinking? Like... impulsively?"
I forced a smile. "Even impulsive actions are rooted in instinct. Your brain makes the decision before you're consciously aware of it. You just don't realize it until it's too late."
Too late, I thought bitterly, stealing one last look at her.
As soon as I finished my lesson it was time to go, and the room erupted into motion. Students packed their things, chatting as they filed out the door.
She stood, moving quickly, her head down as if that would make her invisible.
She's such a coward, I thought, watching her go.
But even as she disappeared, I couldn't stop replaying it all: the way she tasted, the way she screamed, the way she begged.
I didn't even know her name, but I knew I'd never forget her.
─── ⛧⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆⛧ ───
Chapter four of 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 is here, and things just went from messy to dangerously complicated. Mia's trying to keep it together, but how do you handle knowing your one-night stand is not just your professor...but maybe more than he seems?
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