(POV Vanessa)
The vibration of my phone on the mahogany desk interrupted my thoughts. It was a message from Luke. As I read it, a subtle, almost imperceptible smirk curved my lips. He wanted to have lunch today, and the condition was clear: Sofia would be there.
Finally, I would meet the famous “childhood friend.” Luke had already told me details about her personality — the latent possessiveness, the unwavering loyalty, and that darkness that seemed to simmer just beneath a sweet surface. To any other woman, someone like Sofia would be a problem, an obstacle to be removed. But I saw something different in her. I saw a fundamental piece of Luke’s happiness.
My decision was made in seconds: I would not provoke her. On the contrary, I would be the very embodiment of kindness. I wanted Sofia to look at me and see not a competitor for his heart, but an ally — someone who validated her place and made her feel safe.
As I got ready for the meeting, I reflected on the seed I had been planting in Luke’s subconscious. When I suggested that he allow himself to be with the women around him, it wasn’t out of an ego-driven desire for power, but because I know him better than he realizes. Luke has a heart that is far too noble for his own peace; he is involved with incredible women — including Olivia, who has become a close friend of mine — and I know he would never be able to choose just one. Luke would die inside if he had to reject any of us. The guilt of hurting Sofia’s feelings, Olivia’s, or mine would be a burden far too heavy for him to bear.
But there is something deeper to my plan. I place my hope of saving my father in Luke. He is walking a political and legal tightrope, and I believe Luke is the only one with the strength and the connections necessary to ensure he remains in the country safely. I made a silent promise to myself: if Luke manages to perform this miracle and save my father, I will give myself to him completely — body and soul, without reservations. And after that total surrender, I have no intention of wasting a single second competing for his attention.
I don’t want to fight Sofia or Olivia. I want all of us to be his support. If I am the architect of that harmony, I ensure that he has the strength to fight the battles I cannot fight alone, without having to shatter himself with impossible choices.
Lunch at the university restaurant was, for me, a practical lesson in observation and strategy. As the food was served, I remained silent for long moments, simply absorbing the nuances of Sofia. Luke hadn’t exaggerated: she was fascinating and dangerous. I could see how she clung to his arm as if he were the only oxygen in a crowded room. My tactic of being friendly and disarming worked immediately; by treating our “competition” like a long-standing friendship, I saw Sofia’s rigid posture soften. She began talking about her tastes, about food, about her routine in nutrition, and for a moment, it seemed that harmony would be the dominant note of that afternoon.
But peace is fragile glass when it comes to Luke.
The arrival of that girl, Emily, was the catalyst that changed everything. When she approached with that radiant familiarity, thanking Luke for what he had done for her sister, I felt the temperature around Sofia drop several degrees. It was the first time I saw, with absolute clarity, the darkness Luke had spoken of. Sofia’s “good girl” mask didn’t just crack — it nearly shattered. Her eyes locked onto Emily with a predatory intensity, a promise of silent violence that made me realize she wasn’t just jealous — she was unstable.
However, what caught my attention most wasn’t Sofia’s latent outburst, but Luke’s reaction as he explained the situation. When he began talking about Grace, Emily’s sister, something shifted in his expression. I’ve observed him long enough to know his looks, but that one was new. As he described the girl’s talent and how he decided to help her, Luke’s eyes shone in a way I had never seen before. It wasn’t just lust or casual affection; it was genuine admiration — an enthusiasm that put me on alert.
Suspicion settled in my chest like a cold weight. Who was this Grace to awaken such a specific spark in the heir I intend to claim as mine? Luke always likes to help people, but the tone of his voice carried a reverence that made me wonder how many other pieces he was hiding on the board without my knowledge. If he was so emotionally invested in a girl who wasn’t even at the table, my plan of unification would have to be even more rigorous.
Despite my internal unease, I maintained control. I watched Luke caress Sofia’s thigh to calm her — a masterful gesture of containment that prevented a social bloodbath. When lunch finally came to an end and we stood up, I knew I had to seal the pact with Sofia immediately.
I approached her with my best diplomatic smile. Exchanging numbers with her was more than a courtesy; it was a containment move. If I want Luke to save my father and give himself to me without the distractions of a war between his women, I need Sofia’s “darkness” under my supervision. We left with plans for a “girls’ night,” and as I watched Luke hurry off to some mysterious commitment, I knew it: the game had only just begun, and Grace’s entrance had given me a new challenge. Ah, and there’s Bianca too.
And to think that the boy whose virginity I took some time ago had so many women around him.
…
(POV Luke)
The silence of the administrative hallway was absolute, making the sound of my own footsteps painfully clear in my ears. When I opened the door to Margaret’s office, I found her seated behind her desk, surrounded by stacks of papers and books. The image was that of a dedicated, impeccable professor — but the moment our eyes met, the professional façade began to waver.
Unlike that night in the cheap hotel, where peeling walls and dim lighting allowed for a more raw surrender, here she tried to maintain decorum. Her tone was composed, but the glimmer deep in her pupils betrayed her — there was anxiety there, a latent expectation from someone who could no longer ignore the control I held over her.
“Luke… what are you doing here?” she began, her voice firm but a bit too loud to sound natural. “I didn’t call you in about the internship…”
“I didn’t come to discuss the internship, Margaret,” I interrupted, closing the door behind me and walking slowly toward her desk. “I brought you some news.”
I saw her Adam’s apple bob as she swallowed hard. She glanced at the door, then back at me.
“We can’t do anything here, Luke. We’re at the university, someone could come in at any moment…” her voice faltered slightly.
“Stand up,” I ordered, ignoring her protests and placing my hand on the desk.
For a second, she hesitated. The conflict between the authority she wielded in the classroom and the submission she felt toward me was written all over her face. But desire won. She took my hand and stood, walking around the desk until she stopped in front of me.
I stepped closer, closing the distance until we could feel each other’s heat. I brought my hand to her face, stroking her cheek with my thumb before pressing lightly, forcing her lips into an involuntary pout. She let out a trembling sigh. Without haste, I kissed her — deep and possessive — while my other hand pulled her body against mine, erasing any space between us.
Margaret returned the kiss urgently for a few seconds, her hands gripping my arms tightly, but then she pulled away, turning her face aside and panting.
“Luke, stop… not here. Someone will hear. The university has rules, my career…”
“Rules don’t matter now,” I whispered near her ear, feeling her shudder. “What matters is that you learn to obey. That’s part of accepting who you really are when you’re with me.”
I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, watching the internal struggle consume her. I reached into my pocket and took out the small object I had bought, letting her see the gleam of the vibrator and the small remote control resting in my palm.
“You have class soon, don’t you?” I asked, watching her reaction as my fingers played with the remote. “Well then, I’m going to attend. But today, we’re going to play a different game.”
Margaret’s eyes widened, her breathing turning shallow. She knew exactly what I was suggesting, but her logical mind still tried to fight reality.
“Luke, please… it’s far too risky. We’re in the administrative building, the hallway is full of students and colleagues,” she whispered, her voice thick with anxiety bordering on panic.
I ignored the protest. Without a word, I took a step back, walked to the door, and turned the key, hearing the metallic click that sealed our isolation. The sound echoed in the room like a sentence. I turned back to her, my eyes locked onto hers, transmitting all the authority I knew disarmed her.
“Lower your skirt. Now,” I ordered, my voice low and cutting.
Margaret hesitated, her hands trembling at her sides. She looked at the locked door, then at me, and finally her resistance collapsed. Slowly, she slid the fabric of her skirt down over her hips, revealing a vibrant red lace panty. The contrast of that provocative piece beneath the clothes of a serious professor was definitive proof that, deep down, she had been waiting for something like this.
I approached her slowly, feeling her tension rise with every inch I closed.
“You did well, Margaret. Red suits you,” I praised, my voice now soft, rewarding her obedience.
I slid my hand beneath the lace, finding her intimacy. I began to finger her with slow, circular motions, feeling the heat radiating from her. It didn’t take long for the fabric to start growing wet. Margaret closed her eyes, letting out a muffled moan she tried to swallow, her head falling back as her body reacted involuntarily to my touch.
“Just look at this…” I murmured, feeling the wetness increase. “You’re soaking everything.”
I knelt before her. I pulled the panties aside, exposing her pink, glistening pussy.
“Spread your legs. More.”
She obeyed, bracing her hands on the desk for balance. The sight was obscene and arousing.
“What a filthy pussy you have, Margaret. Dripping with lust right in the middle of work hours.”
I took the small vibrator and positioned it at the entrance of her wet slit. With a firm motion, I inserted the object inside her. Margaret let out a deep gasp, feeling the sudden fullness. I made sure to leave the small safety cord outside, hidden between her lips, so it could be removed later.
I stood up and slipped the remote control into my pocket, savoring the power that small device gave me.
“Now get dressed. We have a class to attend.”
She recomposed herself with still-trembling hands, adjusting her skirt and blazer, trying to recover her professor’s posture. Her eyes, however, were clouded with desire and fear of what was to come. We left the office together, walking down the hallway toward the classroom. To any passing student, we were just a professor and her exemplary student discussing academic topics — but the truth was pulsing silently inside her, waiting for my first press of the button on the remote.
