LXVIII

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This is the sort of lounger I'm talking about yes it matters

Small note, please read:
some people have commented some things on the previous chapter, and I wanted to say that if you don't like what is happening/are not comfortable with it, I recommend you stop reading, it won't get better
1. What Lorenzo is doing is gross and extremely disrespectful, but the point of the book was never to make you comfortable and make the fact that he's cheating easy on you
2. I do not and have never tolerated sl*t-shaming, and you will get muted if I see any of that

I also saw some people going crazy asking for translations or translating the things themselves for others, and I wanted to remind you that I always translate every word and sentence that is not in English, just scroll to the top comment 💖

I've made an Inkitt account (@/holyvixen) and an insta account (@/holy.vixen) and I'd suggest you follow at least one of those so that we can always be connected if anything happens. I also will be posting Calliope on insta so it's worth it

I'm super sorry that the update took this long, but
• it's nearly 5K words longer than usual
• I hated it so much I ripped the pages when I was halfway in and rewrote it and I still don't like it that much :)

Comment or Calliope will come to bite you 😡

Comment or Calliope will come to bite you 😡

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"...and the number of layers of myelin on an axon is proportional to the diameter of the axon, so..."

The unknown professor's voice is drowned out by my thoughts as I scribble down some notes, mostly the keywords I identify in her long speech, and I sigh in boredom, for I already know all of this stuff. True, this is only the first week, but I don't see the point of wasting everyone's time by repeating information we already know.

"This lesson's boring, huh?" A man with a deep voice whispers, leaning in and getting far too close to me, so much so that I can smell the minty breath that's hitting my blushing cheek. He drops his pen onto his spotless notebook and slides his hand between my thighs, easily reaching my crotch as I'm only wearing a skirt.

I snap my legs closed together, stopping his hand from moving further, and gasp at his impertinence. "Enzo, what are you doing here?" I ask in disbelief, keeping my voice down, afraid of getting kicked out of the classroom.

Lorenzo disregards my question nonchalantly. "Don't make a sound." He instructs with a mischievous smirk, freeing his hand and gliding down his seat, kneeling in front of me under the desk and spreading my legs open. He silently removes my panties and sticks them in the breast pocket of his crisp white shirt, before burying his head between my thighs and getting to work, casually eating me out in the middle of my Neuroanatomy class.

After a sharp intake of breath, caused by the shock I'm feeling, I look back at the smart board, trying my best to conceal my growing pleasure and look collected. My fingers curl around the edge of the desk, my knuckles turning white due to the force I'm applying, and I slap my other hand over my mouth to avoid letting out a loud moan, or a scream even. How the hell can this be happening?

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