Chapter Twenty-Four
James
“Yes, but I want more of you.”
Colton lets those words linger in the air before scooting over and sitting properly in the seat again.
He works my pants up first, and I lift my ass to help him, before he does the same for himself.
It’s nice the way he always takes care of me.
Could I pull up my own pants? Yes. Do I like that he did it for me?
Also yes. I’m not sure that’s something I could have ever admitted before him.
I don’t know if it’s because of how I was raised—the effects of living with Sandra—or how I’m hardwired—a combination of both, probably—but I like feeling loved, protected.
“What do you mean?” I ask, needing clarification. I work better with all the facts, knowing what’s expected and what will happen.
“I want to be your Dom…and your boyfriend.” My thoughts begin to spin, but Colton continues.
“This is as surprising for me as it is for you. I didn’t expect to want anyone this way, especially not right now, but here we are.
I would like more nights like tonight. Eventually, I’d like you to meet my mom and Dakota.
I’d like us to spend time with Han and Tasha, and to watch Nash play basketball, and to go to art shows for Sadie.
I understand that’s a lot. I know it won’t be easy, that it’s more difficult because of you being my professor.
And I also realize the kids come first. You have a lot on your plate, and the last thing I want is to make it harder on you, but I want us. ”
My words are trapped inside me, beating against my walls, begging to break free. I’m not sure which ones would even come out if I let them, if they broke through my defenses, because how can we do this? How can he want this? Is having him that way even possible?
“Breathe, dreamer.” He rubs his hand up and down my back, making me realize I am, in fact, not breathing. My lungs and chest hurt, so I let the breath free, nearly choking on the quick, intense exhale.
I follow his direction, look him in the eyes and get ahold of myself. It takes what feels like an eternity, but Colton doesn’t rush me. The first words that break free aren’t what I thought they would be. “Why me?” I ask.
“Why not you? You’re worth wanting, James.”
“No one has before,” I admit, then hate that it’s true. “I don’t mean that. I do, but not how it sounds. It’s hard to explain. I hate sounding weak.”
“You don’t sound weak. There’s nothing weak about feeling unsure, but it’s also okay to be weak sometimes. We all are. We’re only human. You haven’t had many people prove themselves to you before, but I will. I’ll prove I want you, but only you can make yourself see you’re worth it.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “You can’t like, boss me into that? Fuck it into me?”
He chuckles. “No…but we can keep trying.”
I smile, rest my head against his shoulder. “I want you too.” I’ve never wanted anything in my life the way I want him.
“Then we’ll try it. And we’ll take it slow. I understand what’s at risk.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to tell the kids. I don’t want to rush things with them, to throw too many things at them at once. Hell, they don’t even know I’m gay. Plus, there’s school, and you’re still in my class, and—”
“Shh.” He kisses my forehead. “You’re officially mine now. We’ll take it slow and figure out the rest.”
I nod, then let myself enjoy him for a few minutes before I say, “I should go. I don’t want the kids to wonder what we’re doing out here.”
“We definitely don’t want that.” He snickers. “Good night, James.” He grabs my face and kisses me sweetly before climbing out of my car and walking away.
I sit there dumbfounded, trying to figure out what the hell just happened, what it means, and how for the first time in my life, I might be truly happy.
*
I slap my hand over the box, closing it quickly and tucking it against my body as if anyone can see me.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Along with my lunch, Colton left a little something special for me today—and texted to tell me to open it alone, in my office.
Which is exactly where I am and why it’s so strange for me to behave as though there are people hiding out behind me, peeking over my shoulder, or tucked behind my bookshelf to see what he gave me.
I open it again, and yep, it’s still there—a clear-plastic cock cage.
My cell rings, and I know without looking that it’s him. My heart speeds up when I answer. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you left me this.”
Sir chuckles. “Then you’ll be even more scandalized when I tell you to put it on. I want you wearing it in class today. I want you to stand in front of me, lecturing me on government—which is boring, by the way—while wearing a cock cage for me.”
I swallow thickly, but my skin prickles with excitement. “Government isn’t boring.”
“That’s what you’re focusing on?”
“Well, it’s a lot easier than the rest of it. And do you really think my class is boring?” We don’t talk about it often. Mostly, we try to pretend he’s not in my class at all…well, unless he’s talking about fucking me in a room full of people. God, we’re so dirty.
“Your class isn’t boring. You’re a good teacher, and people enjoy it. They enjoy you. I’m not sure you realize you come alive when you teach, James. It’s what you were meant to do, but the subject…let’s just say it’s a good thing I don’t need any more poli-sci credits.”
That’s fair, and I do like hearing I’m good at what I do. “You can tell I love it?” Because I really, really do, which is why I can’t believe I’m risking it like this.
“Yes. I like watching you. I fall for you a little more each lesson.”
I grin, then suck my bottom lip into my mouth, wishing he could see me.
“Are you going to wear the cage for your Sir?”
“You know I am.”
“Switch to video call. I want to watch you put it on.”
Goose bumps pebble along my skin. The nerves are there, of course. It would be impossible for them not to be, but they’re buried under my excitement, under this feeling of being alive, really living, that Sir brings out in me.
“Okay.”
A moment later, his perfect fucking face appears on the screen. He’s so handsome, his dirty-blond hair mussed and his eyes playful and confident.
“Set the phone against something so I can see you. Take off your pants and put it on.”
“Yes, Sir.” Fingers shaking slightly, I do as he says, leaning the phone against a coffee mug, then standing in front of it.
Colton nods, and I open my slacks, pull them and my briefs down.
“Do you think anyone else will be able to see it?” he asks.
“If you talk like that, you’ll get me hard, and I won’t be able to put it on.”
“We wouldn’t want that.”
Luckily, though the thought does turn me on, my dick is playing nice.
It takes me a moment to open it and fit it around my cock, careful not to pinch any skin when I snap it closed.
It’s big enough to fit me soft, but there’s no getting hard in this thing, which, clearly, is the point.
I’m going to want to. It’s going to be torture, and Colton is going to love every second of it.
“Fuck, you look so pretty. I wonder how long I can make you wear that,” he says huskily.
“However long you wanted…I would listen, Sir. Because I like to be good for you.”
The smile he gives me rivals the sun in its brightness, and I still can’t believe how often it’s focused on me.
“You’re so fucking good for me. I don’t think you understand just how much I want you.”
No, I don’t, but I know how much I want him, and if it’s anything close, we’re in trouble.
“I wish I’d given you a plug too, but this will have to work for now. Don’t take it off.” There’s a place in it for a lock, but Colton didn’t leave one, so I know he’s trusting me.
“I won’t, Sir.”
“I know you won’t. Pull your pants up. I’ll see you soon.”
I nod. “Thank you, Sir.”
“You’re very welcome, boy.”
And then his face is gone, and I miss it instantly. How can I miss something so much that I just saw? That I just kissed and touched last night?
I try to put him out of my mind while I get dressed again.
It feels slightly heavy on me. Or maybe heavy isn’t the right word, but it’s clear something’s there.
I’ve never worn a cock cage before, certainly never in the middle of the day at work.
I look at my groin as I move around, trying to figure out if anyone can see it.
I hate that the thought of being caught wearing it makes an eager thrill build inside me.
“Stop this,” I tell myself. “Stop obsessing. You have a job to do.” Plus, these thoughts are really fucking inappropriate. It’s not that I want my students to know. That’s not my thing, but teasing about it does more for me than expected.
I manage to get my shit together and head to the classroom. The cage feels weird and noticeable each time I take a step, though I know people can’t tell I’m wearing it.
“Hi, Professor Valentine,” a student says walking by, my face flaming as if she knows, as if she can see what I’m wearing.
“Oh, um, hello.”
I’m stopped three times on the way to the classroom, which isn’t typical, but of course it would happen today. There are a couple of students there early, sitting and working, because of course there would be.
I continue to prepare my lesson, practically having to bite my cheeks to keep from smiling. Is it obvious? Are they wondering if I’ve lost my mind, grinning like a fool for no apparent reason? But there is a reason, and that reason is Colton.
The minutes tick by, closer and closer to class beginning, more and more students filing into the room.
Each time the door opens, my eyes are drawn to it, wondering if it’s going to be Colton, needing it to be him, but it isn’t.
This is torture, and there’s no doubt in my mind he’s doing it on purpose.
He’s never the last one in class, but he will be today. I’d bet money on it.
Finally, just as I’m about to begin, the door opens and there he is. I feel my face heat, know I probably look like someone should take a fire hose to me to put me out.
Colton gives me that smirk he has, the one that’s filled with innuendo from a man that’s clearly up to no good. I whip my head in the other direction, hoping like hell it’s not too obvious and wishing I could crawl to him right now and be his perfect little hole.
“Sorry, Professor Valentine,” he says. “I had something really important come up this morning.”
Oh God. What is he doing? What am I doing, I wonder, before I say, “I hope everything went well?”
“Oh yes. Very well. I’m proud of how it worked out.”
He’s proud of me. Of what I did for him. Of this dirty little secret between the two of us.
“Good. Please have a seat, Mr. Hathaway.”
“Yes, sir,” he replies with a smirk, the look reminding me that he, in fact, is the Sir, but in this moment, we’re playing a game for everyone around us.
It’s going to be a long class…and I know I’ll enjoy every second of it.