4. Jules
JULES
Jules was sprawled on the couch pretending to watch whatever movie Davis had picked, half-focused on the screen and fully consumed by the fact that two days had passed without a word from Connor.
Two days of checking his phone like a man waiting on life-changing test results.
He’d been telling himself he wasn’t anxious while exhibiting every possible sign of anxiety.
Davis had yet to call him out on it, though he’d forced Jules into a movie night under the guise of hanging with his bro. His friend was the kind of person to let you marinate in your own stupidity until you were ready to talk.
He was forcing himself to focus for the umpteenth time when his phone buzzed against his thigh. It took tremendous effort for him to refrain from yanking the device out. While Davis was being chill, he would absolutely lose his shit if Jules did that.
The screen showed a text from an unknown number.
Unknown Number: 714 Winlet Drive. Saturday. 8 PM.
Jules bit his lip as he stared at the screen. It was nearly midnight, which meant in a few minutes it would be Saturday. Which meant it was the day he’d see Connor again.
The address wasn’t really necessary, though his professor didn’t know that. Jules had long ago figured out where the other man lived. Had even stalked him a time or two from a good distance. This was back before he’d started ramping up his plans to get Connor and him in the same place.
His message held no context. It didn’t even address Jules by name or admit that it was actually Connor on the other end. There was really no need to. Not when there was no one else who could possibly be messaging him.
Jules: I’ll be there.
Taking an extra moment of Davis being distracted by the movie, Jules labeled the man’s number in his phone. He’d been about to put the device away when another message appeared.
My Dream Man: My terms. Non-negotiable. You do as I say, or you leave.
Jules’s entire body went hot. He read the message twice, letting each word settle into his bloodstream. My terms. You do as I say. This wasn’t an invitation. It was a contract. One where Connor had outlined every clause and Jules was being asked to sign with nothing but trust.
The rational part of his brain told him to negotiate. It suggested asking questions and clarifying boundaries.
The rest of him, the part that had wanted this man since he was seventeen years old, typed two words.
Jules: Yes, sir.
No response came after that. Jules didn’t expect one. Connor had gotten what he needed. Confirmation of submission before Jules ever walked through the door.
“You good?” Davis asked from the other end of the couch without looking away from the screen.
“Yeah.” Jules pocketed his phone. His pulse raced at the thought of what was to come. In less than twenty-four hours he’d be under the command of Connor Thorne. “I’m going out tomorrow night.”
Davis turned to face him, brow raised. “Are you now?”
“I am. Don’t wait up for me.”
His friend stared hard, doing some type of silent analysis. Whatever he saw made him nod once and turn back to the movie. No follow-up. No interrogation.
Jules loved that man like a brother.
714 Winlet Drive looked a lot different up close.
Admittedly, the first time he’d thought of where Connor stayed, he’d pictured a high-rise apartment. Something sleek and impersonal that matched the version of his professor the world got to see. The kind of place that looked curated rather than lived in.
Instead, he’d discovered the opposite. A sensible home, larger than average, with dark brick and clean landscaping.
The night of his arrival, a porch light was on, but no other signs of life existed.
Even the street was silent, as if it understood the weight of what was to come.
The nearest neighbor was far enough away to mind their own business, a fact Jules was thankful for.
He wanted to be able to cry out Connor’s name without worry. Wanted to have that man take him apart in every room, every inch of the home until Jules could barely stand.
Connor hadn’t chosen a restaurant or a hotel. He’d given Jules his home address. The place where his walls came down, the professor and the businessman disappearing to his true self.
Jules sat in his car for a full minute, engine off, staring at the front door.
He wasn’t nervous. That wasn’t the right word. He was aware. Hyperaware of the fact that whatever happened on the other side of that door would be irreversible.
A few steps and his world would change.
Jules checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He looked good. Calm, even, which was a spectacular lie but at least his face was selling it.
He took a deep breath and climbed from the car. In a blink he stood at the door, hand raised, pulse a galloping beast inside his chest.
Connor answered on the first knock. Jules was thankful he didn’t have to wait, yet he was completely unprepared for this version of the man.
His professor looked different. Not in any way Jules could physically point out. It was subtler than that. He wore dark slacks and a black henley pushed to his forearms, no layers to hide behind. His hair was slightly less controlled than the classroom version. His feet were bare.
Jules had never seen anything more disarming in his life.
Connor stepped aside without a word to give him room to enter. As Jules passed him, he took a deep breath in. Ah, yes. There he is.
The interior matched the exterior’s quaint confidence.
Warm wood floors. Books everywhere, not decoratively shelved but instead stacked on surfaces and tabbed with sticky notes.
A kitchen visible through an open archway, clean and organized.
The whole place smelled like that same clean, woody scent from the office Jules knew could only ever be found with this man.
Except here it was everywhere. He felt as if he had a direct supply to his addiction of choice.
Jules wanted to explore the home more. Wanted to read every spine, open every drawer, map the private landscape of this man’s life the way he’d been mapping his public one for years.
Connor closed the door behind him, locking it with a resounding click of the deadbolt. It should have startled Jules. Maybe made him wary. Rather, his entire body sank into acceptance.
We’ve made it, he thought to himself. We’re here and he’s ours.
“Do you want a drink?” Connor asked.
“No, thanks.”
Connor studied him. That same grey-eyed assessment as he always did, though tonight it didn’t feel clinical. It felt like hunger wearing an ill-fitted mask of patience.
“You understood my texts.”
“I did, Professor.”
“Repeat them back to me,” Connor instructed.
Jules held his gaze. “Your terms. Non-negotiable. I do as you say, or I leave.”
“And you agree to this?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why? You have no idea what I’ll be requiring.”
The question caught Jules off guard. He’d expected Connor to take the reins immediately. To issue commands with the same cold authority he brought to his classroom. Instead, he was standing there, barefoot in his own home, asking Jules to explain his submission.
Jules knew he had to give him the truth. The whole, uncut version that likely wouldn’t make sense.
“Because I trust you. Because I know you ultimately don’t want to hurt me.”
Emotions waged war behind Connor’s expression. The word trust had hit something deep. Jules wondered just what there was beneath the veneer it appeared the other man still had some hold on.
“You don’t know me well enough to trust me,” Connor argued.
“I know you well enough to be standing in your living room at eight on a Saturday night, ready to do whatever you tell me. If that’s not trust, it’s something close enough that the difference doesn’t matter. Besides, what you think you know about me and what you actually know are very different.”
Connor’s jaw worked. He crossed the distance between them in three steps, stopping close enough that Jules could feel the heat of him.
“If you want to stop,” Connor said quietly, “you say the word red and everything stops. Immediately. No questions.”
“Understood.”
“Say it back.”
“Red. Everything stops. No questions.”
Connor giving him a safeword told Jules more than every conversation they’d had combined.
This wasn’t a man taking advantage of a power dynamic he hadn’t asked for.
This was a man who understood power, respected it, and refused to wield it without a failsafe.
It made Jules want him so badly his teeth ached.
Connor’s hand came up. His fingers traced along Jules’s jaw as if learning the shape of it. “On your knees,” he growled.
Jules dropped in an instant. There was not an ounce of him that wanted to pause. His knees hit the hardwood and the ache of it felt earned.
From this angle, Connor was enormous. Not just physically—though the man’s frame was significant—but in presence. He filled all of Jules’s vision from there. His hand settled on the top of Jules’s head, fingers threading through his hair, gripping enough to show exactly who was in charge.
“Look at me.”
Jules turned his gaze away from examining his sexy professor’s body to meet the other man’s eyes. Connor’s breath caught at the connection. It was very subtle, but there was no way to miss it from his angle.
“I haven’t wanted anyone like this. I haven’t wanted a man at all. This isn’t—” Connor’s grip tightened in Jules’s hair. “This isn’t something I know how to navigate.”
Jules turned his head slightly, pressing his cheek into Connor’s palm. “Then don’t. Just let it happen. Use me how you want. I’m all yours, Connor.”
The sound Connor made was barely audible. Half exhale, half surrender.
Jules took it as permission to continue. He reached for Connor’s belt, eager to reveal what was beneath.