Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Mr. Kent.” He enters in a frazzled state, hurrying to throw his messenger bag on a dented filing cabinet before standing behind his desk with sweat beading at his hairline. “Petra should have asked you to wait at reception.”
I throw myself down in one of the ripped pleather-upholstered chairs that squeaks when I sit. “That Petra. What will she get up to next?”
He clears his throat and swipes the sweat off his forehead while combing his fingers through his hair.
“So…” I watch his gaze sweep over his desk like he’s checking to see what’s been disturbed while I was left unsupervised. “This is cozy.”
Taking a seat behind his desk, Mr. Goodwyn reaches into a drawer for a manila folder. “I asked to see you so we could talk about your homework in my class.”
He pushes the folder across the desk for me to open.
I stare at him. “It’s empty.”
“So now that we’re in agreement on that point, let’s talk about why you haven’t turned in a single assignment.”
A rather cheeky, self-satisfied little sparkle appears in his eye. He must have spent the entire harried jog over here devising that clever little empty folder scheme. Maybe even over breakfast.
“Look at that,” I drawl. “I wandered straight into your adorable little trap. Well done, sir.”
His mouth flattens to a straight line. “Lawson.”
“Mmm.” I bite my lip at the heated sensation that admonishing tone sends through my groin. “That was nice. I bet your wife likes it when you talk dirty.”
He flinches, aghast at the assertion.
“She’s a treat, sir. Well done. Let her know the white dress is my favorite.”
My dick gives a little twitch at a familiar late-night fantasy. Gwen on her knees, tits out, dress down around her waist, with him standing over her as he comes on her chest.
“This is an entirely inappropriate conversation.” A scowl grows deep and firm across his brow. “I realize I’ve let you indulge a certain preoccupation during class discussions, but—”
“We could entertain other things.” I lick my lips and watch him squirm in his chair. I bet he’s grateful to be concealed behind the desk. “I assume that’s why I’m here.”
“I don’t think I take your meaning.” Oh, yes, he does. “You’ve had your fun, Mr. Kent. Now I have to reiterate, the syllabus—”
“Mr. Kent again, huh? I liked it better when you called me Lawson.” I wink at him. “Jack.”
“Mr. Goodwyn,” he growls in frustration.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Jack.” I pull my leftover apple out of my bag and take a sweet, juicy bite while I recline in the chair. “Lots of married men are bi.”
The side of his neck, just below his jaw, flutters with his quickening pulse. “I don’t know what gave you the impression—”
“Don’t you?”
His chest rises on a deep breath. Right now he’s tearing through every conversation, every moment of eye contact, for the careless traces he left while he entertained himself with torrid little mind-plays of keeping his student after class. I wonder how he pictured it. When he closes his eyes, does he want my dick in his mouth? Or is he pressing me against a bookshelf?
“If you’ve misconstrued…”
“Hey, hey.” Holding my hands up, I lower my voice like I’m trying to coax a frightened kitten from a thorny bush. “I can keep a secret. No judgment here.”
“You’re my student—”
“And I’m eighteen. What are a few broken rules between consenting adults?”
“I didn’t mean—” He stops abruptly, cheeks flushed.
It suddenly occurs to me that he might not have any practice in this particular area of his predilections. A friend in college, maybe. One late night over study notes and coffee, a naughty little romp in the bookstacks. Staring down a life forever shackled to the same pussy and unable to resist knowing what it meant to get it up the ass just once. Then they part awkwardly and never speak again.
“It’s all good,” I tell him to ease his fears. “I think you’d be surprised how many people around here are living double lives.”
Jack Goodwyn’s repressed sexual appetites would hardly make the gossip section of the school paper.
“I think, Mr. Kent, you ought to go.”
“Sure. If there’s nothing else you’d like to discuss.” I take another bite of the apple, watching him swallow hard. “I do have one question, though. Does Gwen still go down on you?”
If he’s offended by the question, he doesn’t verbalize it. Stunned silent, maybe. Or else intrigued.
His mind is probably racing with his own forbidden fantasies. Wondering when he might wake up covered in sweat, still in bed with his fist wrapped around his own cock and imagining it’s my mouth he’s fucking.
“Are you still enjoying the honeymoon period, or has she stopped letting you touch her? Says she has a headache, but you can hear her going at that vibrator in the bathroom every night. Let me know if I’m getting warm.”