Calla stood near the campus library’s arched entryway, her notebook hugged to her chest, lips curled into a polite smile. A guy from her comparative politics class—Mason, maybe?—had stopped her to talk about… something. Probably the upcoming joint seminar. She nodded, offering short answers, her eyes flicking around nervously.
He was handsome in a golden-boy way. Confident. A little too smooth.
Then she felt it—that weight, that chill.
A shadow passed behind Mason’s shoulder. Javier Alcantara. Walking alone. Dark button-up, sleeves rolled up, laptop tucked under one arm, eyes glancing over… just for a second. Calla froze mid-sentence.
Mason continued talking, but her ears burned. Javier didn’t stop. He didn’t say anything. But she saw how his jaw ticked.
Ten minutes later, she was in her seat in the lecture hall. Javier entered, back to his usual self—cold, calculated, professional. Calla focused hard. She had to. She didn’t want to mess up.
Then came the quiz.
She flipped the sheet.
Hard. Brutal. Unforgiving.
Her friend Bea beside her mouthed, “What the hell is this?!”
Calla bit her lip and kept scribbling.
After thirty silent minutes, Javier stepped forward, arms crossed.
> “Most of you failed to review the last chapters despite being clearly instructed to do so. I assume you had more… interesting things to do. Socializing. Late-night café-hopping. Flirting in hallways, perhaps?”
Calla’s pen halted.
> “Let me remind you that this is a political ethics class. Discipline matters. You either take this seriously, or you get swept by those who do.”
Eyes locked.
Javier didn’t blink. Calla’s cheeks burned as her friends exchanged shocked looks. Was he just… calling her out?
When the bell rang, Calla packed her bag in record time. Her heart pounded.
As she reached the hallway, her phone buzzed.
> Prof. J.A.
Avoid that guy. He’s trash. Focus on your goals, Calla.
Her lips curled mischievously. She replied:
> Calla R.
Duly noted, sir. 👀
She hit send. Less than five seconds later:
> Prof. J.A.
Oh god… what do I do with you, Calla.
She smirked. But fate wasn’t done with her yet.
---
Later that Evening – Apartment Elevator
Calla stepped into the lift from the 1st floor lobby, wearing oversized sweats and bunny slippers, sipping a cold can of soda. As the elevator doors began to close, a hand slid between them.
Javier.
He stepped in, alone. Black hoodie, grey sweatpants, hair still damp from a shower. Calla’s heart stuttered.
Silence.
He didn’t look at her. Until her floor lit up.
She stepped forward.
His hand grabbed hers—firm, warm, deliberate.
> “You're not getting out.”
> “Sir—what are you doing?”
He pulled her gently. The elevator kept going up. Ding. 15th floor. Penthouse.
> “You can’t just—”
> Beep. He typed the code.
The door swung open, and before she could react, he locked it behind her.
Then came the silence. His stare. Intense.
> “I’m not happy when you talk to those boys.”
> “Why is that, Professor?”
His nostrils flared.
> “Calla…” His voice dropped.
> “Should I spank your butt for not listening to me?”
> “Maybe you should… Daddy.”
His eyes widened. Then narrowed. His face flushed red. The next second—
He crashed his lips to hers. Brutal, needy, open-mouthed. He devoured her moan. His hand tangled in her hair, the other on her waist. When she bit his lip, instead of screaming, she groaned.
> “Bad choice, sweetheart.”
In a second, she was lifted to his shoulder and tossed onto the bed.
> “You brat. You really do need a spanking, huh?”
Calla giggled, breathless. “It’s not fair…”
> “What’s not?”
> “You were sober when you kissed me last week. I wasn’t out of my mind…”
> “Ooo… so you want to remember how it felt, huh?” His eyebrow arched wickedly.
> “Let’s do it.” She laughed, screaming, as he lunged at her again—tickling, kissing, teasing—until they both collapsed in a heap of laughter and heat.
Breathless, Calla pulled away.
> “Can we stop now?”
Javier’s eyes softened. “Fine,” he sighed. “But now I need another cold shower.”
> “I’ll wait,” she smiled. “Just make sure you don’t give it to anyone else.”
He blinked. Then chuckled. “You’re dangerous, Calla Reyes.” He kissed her forehead and disappeared into the bathroom.
---
One Hour Later
He came out in loose lounge pants, shirtless, towel on his head.
She was watching a K-drama with wide eyes and popcorn.
He scooped her up, sitting her on his lap.
> “Let’s talk, okay?”
She nodded, lips pouty.
> “I know it’s hard to act like nothing happened between us. But in university, we must be professional.”
She nodded again.
> “You think it’s better if I transfer?” he said suddenly, voice low.
> “NO!” she yelled, nearly knocking over the popcorn. “If you leave, you’ll meet some hot blonde genius and fall for her—no way!”
He laughed, hard. “So much jealousy in that little body.”
> “I don’t share what’s mine,” she muttered.
> “Well, neither do I. So stay away from Liam.”
She huffed. “We need a solution.”
> “What if you pass my course early?”
> “Wait, what?”
> “This class is just your additional. You’re a law major. If you pass my final exam early, you’re not my student anymore.”
> “Can I really do that?”
> “I’ll talk to the Dean. I might offer an early-exam option for motivated students.”
> “Count me in,” she grinned.
He smiled, soft now. “Good. That’ll make everything easier.”
> “Until then…” she whispered.
> “Until then,” he said, “no more bunny slippers in elevators unless you want to be dragged to bed again.”
YOU ARE READING
Sir (Lecture like a weapon)
Romance📘 Title: Sir Lecture like weapon. Cold. Control. Precise. He doesn't touch. He doesn't smile. He doesn't break rules. Until Calla Reyes walked into his classroom... and his control began to shatter. Calla Reyes is the quiet heiress no one sees comi...
