Episode 5: “Addicted to the Silence”

Episode 5: “Addicted to the Silence”

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The aftermath of that night lingered in the air like smoke—thick, intoxicating, impossible to escape.

Jiva walked across the campus the next morning with her books hugged tight to her chest, but her mind wasn’t on classes or homework. It was on him. Every step she took seemed to echo with the memory of his hands on her, his mouth between her legs, his voice whispering filth in her ear as he claimed her on his desk.

She could still feel him inside her—stretching her, filling her. And more than that… she could still feel his eyes.

She had woken up early, unable to sleep. The weight of what they’d done wasn’t guilt—it was hunger. A wild ache that had settled low in her belly. She hadn’t known it could be like that. That it could consume her.

And she needed more.

Professor Alex Hartley, the man who’d ruined her ability to concentrate on anything else, was nowhere to be seen on campus that morning. No one else noticed it. No one suspected that the quietest girl in the front row had spent the night with the most respected professor in the college—her legs wrapped around his waist, his name on her lips, his seed still deep inside her.

The memory made her thighs clench.

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Alex stared at his own reflection. Still half-dressed, half-lost in the chaos of what they had done.

It had been reckless. Insane. So fcking good.*

Her voice still echoed in his ears—pleading, moaning, whispering his name like a secret. Her body had responded to him like it had been made for him. Every curve, every reaction, every whimper… perfect.

And now? He was ruined.

He couldn’t look at his desk without seeing her sprawled across it.

He couldn’t walk the halls without wondering who else could smell her on him.

His fingers traced the faint scratches on his neck where she’d clung to him, begged for more. His chest tightened—not with guilt, but with desire.

He wanted her again.

No, needed her.

He tried to focus on his day, tried to drown himself in work—but even the sharpest papers couldn’t cut through the memory of her lips wrapped around his fingers, her soft cries muffled against his shoulder, her inner walls pulsing around his cock as she came again and again.

He was completely, utterly addicted.

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That afternoon, they pretended nothing had happened.

She sat in her usual seat. He taught like nothing was different.

But when his eyes flicked to hers across the room, it was there—that silent scream of need, the secret burning between them.

She licked her lips slowly.

His knuckles went white around the marker in his hand.

No one else noticed the tension. No one else could feel the storm raging beneath the surface.

But Jiva did.

And so did Alex.

As the class ended and students began filing out, she lingered. She didn’t say anything, just slowly collected her things, letting the others leave first. She didn’t look at him. Didn’t need to. She could feel his gaze boring into her.

When the door finally closed behind the last student, he said her name.

“Jiva.”

She turned, slowly, heart racing. “Yes, Professor?”

The word Professor hit him like a punch to the gut. He shouldn’t have wanted her more because of it—but he did.

“Close the blinds,” he said, voice low.

She obeyed. No hesitation. No questions.

And when she turned back, he was already walking toward her, eyes dark with hunger.

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He didn’t kiss her. Not right away.

He just stood in front of her, close enough to feel her breath. His hand lifted to her throat, not squeezing—just resting there, a soft warning, a promise of power.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he asked.

Jiva nodded slowly. “I hope I’m driving you crazy.”

“You are,” he growled. “I can’t sleep. Can’t think. All I see is you—spread out, moaning, begging me to take you again.”

She flushed at the words, her thighs squeezing together instinctively.

“Say it,” he commanded, eyes locked with hers. “Say what you want.”

“I want you to ruin me again,” she whispered. “Like you did in your office. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

He kissed her then—rough, claiming, full of possession. His mouth bruised hers as he backed her against the wall, his hands already sliding under her shirt.

“No more pretending,” he said against her lips. “You’re mine now.”

She gasped as his fingers pinched her nipples through her bra. “Yes—yours. Only yours.”

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They didn’t have long—but it didn’t matter.

He bent her over the desk again, tugging her skirt up, baring her perfect ass. She was already wet, dripping for him. No panties this time.

“Good girl,” he praised, gripping her hips. “You knew what I’d want.”

He didn’t tease this time.

He took.

Slid into her in one thick, glorious thrust that made her cry out and slap a hand over her own mouth.

His other hand clamped around her waist, keeping her still as he pounded into her from behind—fast, hard, desperate. Her moans were muffled, but her body screamed for him.

“You were made for me,” he grunted. “Look at you—taking me so deep…”

Her walls fluttered around him, and he felt her tighten. “You gonna come again, baby? Gonna squeeze my cock just like last time?”

She nodded wildly. “I can’t help it. You feel too good…”

“Then do it,” he growled. “Come for me. Now.”

She shattered—again.

And he followed with a groan that sounded like relief and lust all at once, emptying himself inside her, claiming her in the most primal way possible.

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Afterward, they collapsed against each other, breathing hard.

This wasn’t just lust anymore.

It was something else.

Something they couldn’t stop.

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