Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I’m breathing too fast, body dying for the exact same thing Colton wants. Why is it like this with him? Why is it now that I crave someone this way? And why him?
I nod.
“Good boy,” he whispers, tossing me his mischievous grin, then bending down and knocking on the back window. Sadie rolls it down. “Hey, Nash. Take my number. Hit me up if you ever want to play ball again.”
I don’t look into the car, but when Colton starts rattling off his phone number, I assume Nash did what he asked.
“See you guys later,” he says to the kids. He starts walking away backward, holding his hand up to me. “Talk soon, James.”
“Yeah,” I reply, in what feels like a trance. “Talk soon.”
Then I clear my throat, get into the car, and drive away.
*
I don’t stop thinking about Colton the rest of the day.
That’s not what we’re supposed to be doing. That’s not what any of this should be about. Our lives are becoming entwined in ways I’ve never had with anyone, ways I certainly shouldn’t be having with my student…who is also my Dominant.
This situation is so out of hand and so inconsistent with who I am that I can’t help wondering what in the hell I’m doing, which sends me into a tailspin and stresses me out even more. I’m not sure how I feel about any of it, but I know I don’t have it in me to talk to Sir tonight. It would just mess with my already scrambled brain.
Me: I’m tired and need to go to bed early tonight. Can’t talk.
The second I send the message, I can’t keep my eyes off my phone. He’ll know I’m lying and that I’m all up in my head about this, but that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t handle this tonight.
DLS: Are you okay?
I don’t reply because I’m not sure that I am okay, and that just pisses me off because I should be fine.
Why does this all seem so easy for him? Why am I the only one who is always all up in my head? We went from never doing this again to schedules, then to him giving me orgasms during video calls, then to him playing basketball with Nash and his best friend and her partner helping me with Sadie’s hair, all in a matter of weeks.
And a part of me wants more. That’s the scariest thing, and that’s why I need to end it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
James
One thing I hadn’t let myself think about last night is the fact that I would be seeing Colton in class today. The man will be making me a lunch and sneaking it into my classroom before our lesson. He’ll sit in his seat and listen to me lecture, his warm gaze never leaving me, making me feel naked and wanted while I crave hearing him call me a good boy.
Only, would he call me a good boy? Or would he be angry about last night? If he could, would Sir make me lie over his lap while he swats my ass and makes me tell him how sorry I am for missing our call? Would he get and keep me hard for hours but not let me come?
My dick throbs thinking about it, but I continue to ignore my erection while the water of my shower cascades down my body because I know I’m not allowed to touch myself. Sir says I can’t…the Sir I decided last night would no longer be my Dom, so why am I still thinking about him that way?
I will my eager cock to calm down while I wash my hair. It goes down before I wash my body, and I make sure I’m quick while cleaning my groin because I know it won’t take me much to get hard again. That says something, though, because last night I couldn’t get out of my head enough to get an erection even if I’d wanted to, but look at me now.
I finish getting ready, and as I head into the other room, I hear the kids joking about Nash eating a bagel after it fell on the floor.
“If all the other shit we’ve been through didn’t kill me, eating off James’s obsessively clean kitchen floor won’t.”
First, gross. Why is he eating off the floor?
And second, my house isn’t that clean. It’s normal clean. I think…
But third—and this is the point that’s got my feet rooted to my hardwood floors—is that I’m not sure I’ve heard him say my name before; at least, not like that. Not in this normal way you talk about a friend or family member, the way someone would talk about the weather or their plans for the weekend. When it comes to me, everything he does or says is so angry that I can’t help wanting to hold on to this absolutely ridiculous moment of him basically calling me a clean freak.