Please Harder, Professor

Chapter 105

Sophie’s POV

The bedroom is dark.

Adrian's breathing is steady beside me, the deep rhythm of a man who should be asleep but isn't quite there yet. I stare at the ceiling, watching shadows shift across the plaster, replaying the moment with Bellamy on an endless loop.

The closeness. The stillness. The way his eyes dropped to my mouth.

Nothing happened, I tell myself. Nothing happened. We were sitting on a couch, he reached for a blanket, our faces ended up close together. That's all. A moment of proximity that meant nothing, signified nothing, changed nothing.

But guilt doesn't care about technicalities.

Guilt cares about the flutter in my chest when his eyes met mine. About the electricity that crackled between us, undeniable and unexpected. About the fact that I didn't step back first.

Didn't break the moment. Didn't do anything except sit there, frozen, wondering what would have happened if Adrian hadn't walked through that door.

Would Bellamy have kissed me? Would I have let him?

The questions spiral through my mind, each one more dangerous than the last. I'm pregnant with another man's child. Living in that man's home. Building a life with him, however imperfect. And for one charged moment on that couch, I forgot all of it.

Adrian shifts beside me.

His hand finds my hip, thumb stroking lazy circles through the silk of my nightgown. The touch is familiar, grounding—a reminder of who I chose, who I'm with, who I'm supposed to want.

He's been distant lately. Long hours at meetings he won't explain, late nights that leave him exhausted and closed off, the weight of whatever he's hiding pulling him further away from me with each passing day. I've felt the gap widening between us, filled with secrets neither of us will name.

But tonight he's here. Present. His body is warm against mine, his hand gentle on my hip.

"I'm sorry." His voice is rough with exhaustion, muffled against my shoulder. "I know I've been absent. The business, the complications—none of it is an excuse."

"Adrian, it’s…"

"Let me finish." His hand slides from my hip to my belly, palm spreading across the swell where our child grows. "I miss you, Sophie. I miss us. Whatever we had before everything became so complicated."

My throat tightens. I should say something. Confess something. Tell him about the moment on the couch, about the guilt eating me alive, about the way Bellamy looked at me and I didn't look away.

Instead, I turn toward him.

His eyes find mine in the darkness—those storm-gray eyes that saw through me from the very first lecture, that stripped away my defenses before I even knew I had them. Even now, after everything, they still make my breath catch.

"I'm here," I whisper. "I'm right here."

Adrian’s body molds against mine, his chest hot and hard against my back, his cock already straining against me, thick and demanding even through the fabric of his boxers.

His hand slips beneath the hem of my nightgown, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of my hip, my thigh, the curve of my waist.

Every touch is careful—mindful of the life growing inside me—but careful doesn’t mean hesitant. No, Adrian knows how to work around the constraints, how to make me melt without risking harm.

His fingers trail higher, slipping between my thighs, and I gasp as he brushes against my already wet folds. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push. Instead, he teases, his fingers sliding through my slickness, circling my clit with just enough pressure to make me moan.

His lips find the spot below my ear, teeth grazing, tongue soothing, and I shudder, my hips grinding against his hand.

"I’ve missed this," he murmurs, his voice a low growl that sends heat spiraling through me. "Missed touching you. Missed making you fall apart."

His fingers dip lower, slipping inside me, and I cry out, my body clenching around him. "That’s it," he whispers, his breath hot against my neck. "Let me hear you."

He fucks me with his fingers, slow and deliberate, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes my vision blur. His other hand cups my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple, and I writhe, overwhelmed by the sensations.

"Adrian…" I moan, my voice breaking, my body trembling on the edge.

"I know," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. "I’ve got you. Let go."

And I do, my orgasm crashing through me like a tidal wave, my body convulsing as I cry out his name. He holds me through it, his fingers never stopping, his voice steady and grounding even as I fall apart.

When the aftershocks finally subside, he presses a gentle kiss to my shoulder, his hand resting possessively on my belly.

"You’re so fucking perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "Both of you."

I kiss him, my lips desperate, my tongue seeking his. Adrian accepts it, his mouth moving against mine with familiar hunger, his cock pressing insistently against my ass.

"Sophie," he groans, his voice rough with need. "Fuck, I need you."

He rolls me gently onto my back, his hands careful as they part my thighs, his cock sliding through my slick folds before pressing inside. I gasp, my body stretching to accommodate him, the fullness achingly perfect.

He moves slowly, carefully, his thrusts deep and controlled, every stroke designed to pleasure without risk.

"Adrian," I moan, my hands clutching at his shoulders, my hips rising to meet his. "Fuck, yes. Just like that."

He kisses me, swallowing my moans as he fucks me, his hips rocking against mine. "You’re mine," he growls, his voice possessive, primal. "Always mine."

When I finally come apart, it's with his name on my lips. Wave after wave crashing through me while he holds me close, his voice a steady anchor in the chaos, his body solid and warm against my back.

Afterward, we lie tangled together in the sheets, my breathing slowly returning to normal. Adrian's hand rests on my belly again, protective, possessive. The baby shifts beneath his palm—a flutter, a kick, a reminder of the life we've created together.

For a moment, everything feels almost right. Almost whole. Then Adrian speaks.

"Something feels different tonight." His voice is thoughtful, probing. "You're here, but you're also somewhere else. I can feel it."

My heart stutters. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Just... something." He shifts, propping himself up to look at me in the darkness. "Is everything okay? With the pregnancy, with us, with—anything?"

The guilt surges back, twice as strong as before. He can sense it. Can feel the distance I've been trying to hide, the secret I'm keeping, the moment on the couch that meant nothing and everything at once.

I should tell him. Should confess, explain, let the truth spill out before it poisons everything.

But what would I even say? Nothing happened. Bellamy and I sat too close together for three seconds, and I felt something I shouldn't have felt. That's not a confession—it's barely an event.

And yet.

I kiss him instead of answering. It's a deflection, and we both know it. But Adrian accepts it anyway, his hand threading through my hair, his mouth moving against mine with familiar hunger.

Maybe he's too tired to push. Maybe he doesn't want to know. Maybe some part of him understands that certain questions are better left unasked.

When we finally break apart, he pulls me close, tucking my head beneath his chin. His breathing slows, deepens, sleep claiming him at last.

I lie awake in his arms, staring at the darkness.

The guilt doesn't disappear. It curls in my chest like a living thing, feeding on the silence, growing stronger with every breath. I made vows to this man—not formal ones, not yet, but vows nonetheless.

I chose him. I'm carrying his child. I'm building a life in his home, surrounded by his secrets, protected by his money and his power.

And tonight, for one moment, I wanted someone else.