Chapter 61 Chasing My Own Pleasure
Evelyn’s POV
My gaze remained fixed on the door even as Lorenzo’s footsteps had completely faded.
I dragged the sheets higher to my chest, clinging so tightly to them as if the cotton could somehow erase the fact that I had been fully awake and aware when I felt his fingers around my clit, yet I still decided to do nothing.
A shaky breath slipped out of me. My thighs pressed together, instinctively trying to forget the burn he left behind. God, what was wrong with me? Why didn’t I stop him? Why didn’t I at least move, flinch, pretend to wake up?
I had even told him I wanted him.
God. I swear I did.
It has to be because I’m ovulating. That’s the only explanation my brain can come up with, the only thing that makes sense, because how could I possibly open my feelings to him of all people? Lorenzo. The one person who should never hear those words from my mouth.
And this is not even about the promise I made to Diego, every word I spilled to him was real.
Oh my. I just need something to distract me, something that would make the memory of him stop haunting every breath I took.
My hand slid under the pillow until my fingers brushed my phone. I had shoved it there before I slept off. Maybe if I watched a few comic videos, I would laugh hard enough to erase the image of his hand between my legs….. erase the sound of my own voice telling him I wanted him.
The dim light from the screen flashed across the dark room, outlining only my eyes. I opened my browser, scrolling through silly videos from one to another, then another. I forced out a laugh at one. I pretended to be amused at the next.
Little by little, I could almost feel myself drifting away from everything that just happened.
Almost.
I kept scrolling, desperate for anything that would keep me pulled back from outside my own thoughts, until I stumbled across a short drama clip.
A professor kissing his student. His broad shoulders caged her in, making her look fragile beneath his shadow.
My thumb froze.
He leaned over, covering her. Then his hand slid to her throat, not squeezing, not restraining, just resting there….. guarding her softly, possessively, like he was silently saying you’re mine and I know it.
My breath hitched.
Because that single gesture reminded me of Lorenzo.
The way he always touched me like he was memorizing something he didn’t have the right to want. The way he looked at me like I was the one dragging him into darkness, not the other way around.
My finger hovered above the screen, but I couldn’t scroll anymore.
I couldn’t breathe properly either.
Her soft moan hummed out loud, “Oh…..Yes…. Professor, please don’t stop.”
The professor growled, hovering around her neck. With one soft thud he yanked her up from the ground and placed her on his desk still kissing her.
My eyes widened with need as I forced a saliva down my throat.
The professor lifted her skirt up, letting it hang on her hip, without permission he tore out her panties. And she gasped desperately. Grabbing the professor's collar and ripped his shirt button open, she moved to his belts, yanked it open with much confidence.
They both crashed their lips together, moaning loudly into their mouth.
“Jasmine…..” he called out her name. “You love it like this right?”
“You like it when I’m hard for you. Completely at your mercy?”
Jasmine’s eyes glistened with a cunning smile. “Yes professor. I love it. Take me now….”
“…..Professor fuck me……” she breathed, kissing him deeper.
Then, suddenly, he lifted her down from the table and turned her around, positioning her with her back to him. The shift was quick but controlled, the kind that carried unspoken authority. Her ass was bare now, exposed, and she looked impossibly vulnerable, yet completely willing.
The professor slammed into her. Jasmine’s head tipped back sharply, her eyes squeezing shut as a sound slipped from her, a breathless cry shaped by his name.
“Oh….Professor…..Fuckwell…..”
That fueled something in him, his grip tightened around his waist hitting her closer to him like he had an intention of making their bodies one.
He thrusted inside her, deeper, harder, each movement filled with an urgency that carried desperation.
“Like this, huh?” He grasped. “You love it rough, right? You love it when I hit your womb until I shift it?”
Jasmine nodded desperately, clutching tight on the hard desk. “Yes…..Just like that.”
“Now take it all!” He thrust hard again, and again. The sound of their skin clapping together filled the room. His hands slapping none stop on her soft skin.
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening around the heat rising inside me. My cheeks burned with a desire I couldn’t deny even if I tried.
I needed that feeling too, God…. I needed it so badly it terrified me.
And there was only one person on my mind. Only one name pulsing through my chest, echoing between every beat of want and shame.
Lorenzo Scofield.
The moment his name came to my mind, a sharp ache pulsed low in my core, I couldn’t handle it anymore. If Lorenzo refuses to give me what my body so much wanted right now then I would give it to myself.
My fingers trembled around the phone, the clip forgotten.
Because it wasn’t just the professor or the scene that got to me.
It was a reminder of him.
I pulled the sheets down until nothing was covering me, reminding myself that I had intentionally slept this way, hoping, daring, imagining Lorenzo would walk in and find me like this.
It almost worked, but I still didn’t understand why he kept his distance even when his body longed for me as much as mine did for him.
My legs shifted restlessly, my body alert and alive in ways I hadn’t fully felt before. In that moment, I realized just how much I wanted to understand myself.....my desires, my limits, the parts of me I’d been too afraid to face. Adulthood, I supposed, came with exploration, with learning who you were…..and that’s exactly what I was doing now. Learning.
My hand moved slowly over my neck, tracing the warmth of my skin as if mapping it for the first time. It drifted down to my chest, each gentle brush sending shivers through me, awakening something deeper.
A part of me trembled, caught between guilt and curiosity. I was touching myself again, but this time it was different, it was willing, intentional. Not coaxed or forced by Lorenzo, not influenced by anyone else.
I was chasing my own pleasure on my own terms, discovering what I liked, what made me shiver, what made me ache. For the first time, it felt like mine, completely, unapologetically mine.
My hand drew long on my nipple, sending sweet ache at the spot. I repeated the same thing at the other side, then let my hand roll down to my center following the rhythm of the sounds in the phone screen.
Their moans came out louder as if they were lecturing me on how it is been done correctly. I pushed a finger inside, hitting my walls. Then again, and again, harder, faster.
“Oh…..fuck….yes….God….Yes…..”
My body convulsed, breaking at every thrust. I shut my eyes close, imagining it was Lorenzo’s hands. Displaying his face on my head, until I could no more.
My fingers trembled, I jerked at the motion. I was going to be released. I was on the edge, almost there… until a strong, masculine hand clamped over my wrist, holding me firmly in place.
My body stiffened, my heartbeat spiking. I forced my eyes open and froze.
Lorenzo.
His red eyes burned into mine, dark with anger mixed with desires.