Novel & Cerita Professeur

My breath caught as I typed his name into the search bar: Professor Black. His account was private, but his profile picture…God, that picture was enough to undo me. His face was in profile, strong jawline catching the light. The first two buttons of his shirt undone, revealing just enough of his chest. And there, peeking from the collarbone, black ink twisted into a tattoo.

Simon said. She looked at him in confusion, but Simon was focused on the two men ahead. The first person Simon introduced was a little taller than Salvatore, with fair skin, brown hair tied in a bun, and eyes covered by narrow dark glasses. He wore a gray t-shirt, graphite sweatpants, and sneakers. "This is Henrique Saldanha, the best instructor here. I talked to him to accompany you and not let you overdo it," Simon said. "Pleasure to meet you," Henrique greeted her.

I had a worst hangover ever. "Jess, wake up, look, the new professor is here!" Hannah woke me up from my day-dream again. Seriously, I need to stop doing that! Oh God, no. Please no! No. It can't be! No! "Hello everyone, I am Mike Dupont, your new Latin teacher. I hope we will understand perfectly." He smiled like he smiled to me the other day and you could hear quiet moaning sounds coming from every girl in this class. What is he doing here? Who is this guy?

He growled at me making me jerk. The class burst out laughing. I wasn't able to say a word, I just stared directly at him. After the class, I made a mental note to ask him some questions. I needed to know the truth. Deep down, I knew. I knew the answer but I wanted to hear it directly from him. A few steps away from me he was, clad in a black suit which was the same color as his wavy hair. Alexander wasn't only the youngest professor in the college, he was also the most handsome man.

A perk for being a good teacher, I guess. Outside the mafia world, I am Professor Quinn. I use my middle name and there are bickering that I am Matteo Scarpelli, or a doppelganger. No one has ever dared ask me openly because they fear I might cut them into pieces and through their dismembered parts away where they will never be found. Well, my only requirement to the school before accepting this job is that my professional life be kept aside from my several businesses. Stanbury accepted my terms and that's how I became a History Professor in their establishment, this year being my fifth year with them.

I whispered. “And that will be all for today,” Professor Kai’s voice cut through the room, firm and final. He was already snapping his textbook shut, as a few eager students shot their hands up, but he waved them off with a tired motion. “Hold your questions until next time, and I promise to address them all.” I glanced at my watch, he was leaving early. A full thirty minutes early!?, my stomach tightened, and then, I knew my guess was right, Something is wrong!

I just keep staring at my screen, my hands trembling. "Good morning, everyone," a voice says, a deep, rich baritone that feels both familiar and terrifying. “I am your new professor, Mr. Igor Davies. I am taking over for Professor Adams for a few weeks And I think you’ll find that I am a man who cares about his students and what I will teach. Most importantly I need your respect and I will give you mine."

“Good morning, class. I’m Sebastian Wolfe, your new history professor.” My head snapped up, my heart stopping. There, at the podium, stood Sebastian—my Sebastian. His dark brown hair was neat, his green eyes piercing, his black blazer hugging his broad shoulders. He was impossibly handsome, his presence commanding, but his gaze found mine, and shock flashed across his face, mirroring my own. My mouth went dry, my notebook slipping from my hands. The man I’d fucked last night, the stranger who’d claimed my virginity, was my professor. And I was his student.

Her dark long hair was tied to the back, showing off her features and her intimidating blue eyes. "I wasn't staring," I said . Lena raised a brow. "Sure. And I wasn't just watching Xavier practically destroy his opponent." At the mention of his name, my eyes shifted to the center of the field. The professor was sparring with another elite student, his movements were precise. He moved like a shadow, as he effortlessly dodged strikes before countering with speed. "Why do you students call him by his name?" I asked. "You mean Xavier?" "Yes.... he's your professor, I thought we should address him as such." I continued.

The classroom was filled with soft whispers, the air carrying the smell of books, paper, and too many people in one space. Professor Halden, a tall man with grey hair and glasses that were always sliding down his nose, walked to the front with the calm confidence of someone who had taught for many years. When he began to speak, his deep voice would always draw attention, as if he were telling a story you couldn’t stop listening to. “Good morning class.” His voice boomed through the room, commanding everyone's attention.