The lecture hall hummed with droning theory accents, but Serafima paid no mind. She caught Vlad’s gaze from two rows down—the way his eyes flicked, hungry, to where her legs were crossed high in a tight, tiny skirt. Her slim, pale feet slid out of the beige ballet flats, the pointed toes nudging at nothing but air, inviting him.

Vlad visibly swallowed. His knuckles whitened on his pen. Serafima knew his head swimming—she could almost feel his pulse thumping, reading every inch of him desperate to devote attention to those soles.

Without a word, she slid one naked foot across the carpet, sliding it forward until the sharp toe traced up his calf under the desk. He shivered, mouth falling open, but she pulled back just as her heel angled down onto his thigh, pressing into him where he was already straining hard in his jeans.

She smiled and pressed harder—heel rolling over the bulge. He bit back a moan.

Serafima leaned over the edge of her chair, feathering her toes along the back of his neck, scratching down under his collar. He pushed into a harder line, breathing instantly ragged. Her pale arch curved against the stubble—warm, distinct, sticky-sweet just from the scent of her.

When her toes slipped between his lips, he obediently opened, sucking each one hungrily while classes continued around them. He nibbled soft skin and her musky aroma stuck hot to his tongue. Serafima's eyes darkened.

She lifted her sole over his tongue, smearing it with spittle glistening, drawing patterns with the pointed