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 can’t. I have one right after this on Mondays. I was late last week because I went to speak to my advisor. I can’t do that again.”
“Fine. What time are you done for the day?”
“Three.”
“Me too. Not here, though. There’s a park on the other side of Peyton.” He gives me the name. “There’s a tunnel toward the back by the creek.”
I feel like he’s going a little overboard, but I don’t tell him that. I’m surprised he wants to meet me at all. “I’ll be there at three thirty,” I tell James. “Don’t be late.”
I walk up the stairs of the auditorium and find my seat toward the back. I don’t want to distract him. My goal is to make things easier on James, not harder. I pull my laptop from my bag and begin going over some work.
Still, even after other students begin to fill the room, I feel his eyes on me the whole time.
*
When I arrive at the tunnel, James is already there. I made sure not to arrive early because I know that would shake him when he’s already going to be nervous. While I like to test my subs, challenge them, this isn’t a way I want to with James, at least not at this point.
I also have no business thinking about him like he’s my sub because he isn’t, no matter how much I may want him to be. For a reason I can’t explain, I haven’t gotten my fill of him yet. And if we make the right choice here, I’ll never get the chance.
He pushes off the wall of the tunnel as soon as he sees me, hands in his pockets, looking around like he expects the dean to jump out of the bushes at any second.
I’ve never been to this side of the park. The trails and surroundings seem much quieter here.
“It’ll be okay, James. No one will see us here.”
“That’s easy for you to say. It’s not your career on the line.”
No, it’s not. He’s right about that, and it’s just the reminder I need why this is a bad idea. I have two choices when it comes to this conversation, and I wasn’t sure which direction I was going to go, but now I am. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Do you want to sit?” I point to the bench. He stares at me for a second, eyebrows pinched together, and I have a feeling I let him down. “Sit down, James,” I amend, telling him what I want rather than asking, though that’s not what this is about.
He walks over to the bench, ass near one edge, as though afraid if I sit down, we’ll be touching. Fuck, I want to touch him so damn bad, but I’m determined to be good.
“Why am I here?” he asks, me standing rather than joining him.
“Because I think you want more guidance than you realize, more than you’ve ever given yourself. You want someone to take care of you.”
“Fuck you. I’ve never depended on anyone in my whole life. I don’t need to start now.”
“Maybe it’s time you did have someone you can depend on,” I argue. “There’s nothing wrong with that, and I didn’t say you needed anything. But it’s okay to want, James.”
“I know who I am and what I want better than you.”
“Do you? Because I feel like I read you pretty well. Did I not give you everything you wanted the times we were together? Was there anything I misjudged?” That’s important for me to know, even if I’m never able to have him again.
He sighs, looking like he wants to lie but doesn’t. “You know you didn’t.”
“Good boy,” falls from my lips. Fuck. I need to stop that.
“I didn’t do anything.”
I don’t respond to his statement. “Honesty only: did you like me making your meals? Telling you to eat?”
He rubs a hand over his face and pushes to his feet.
“I don’t recall telling you to stand.”
“Are we in a scene right now?”
“You’re the one who made it obvious you wanted me to direct you. That wasn’t but five minutes ago. If you want it to stop now, you know what to say.”
Red. Those three letters change everything.
James doesn’t say them. “Yes, I liked it. You know I did.” He takes a seat again.
“Because you like to feel cared for?” I prod. It’s important for me to understand him.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had someone do that before. I didn’t know I would like it, so I can’t really tell you why I do.”
I nod. “You have a lot on your mind, a lot of responsibility.” I think maybe he always has. “Between your career and now having custody of your siblings.”
“Yes, Sir,” he answers, nearly making me weak in the knees. Why are those two words so much more potent coming from him? Why do they make every single pleasure receptor in my body sing?