Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
PJ
I slip into a side door in Fallon’s classroom, dropping heavily into the front-row seat next to Ravi.
“There you are,” he says.
“I’m not late,” I grumble. “Still have three minutes.”
It would have been earlier, but after a fun day of pretending everything wasn’t falling apart while Fallon and I got Bruiser and Jolene used to each other, he did a one-eighty this morning and insisted I park two blocks from campus so nobody would see us together.
The opposite fucking end of campus from the Language Arts building.
Ravi leans over into my space. “What do you know about sounding?”
Okay, something tells me this doesn’t mean what I think it means. “Like sounding an alarm? Or instruments or something? Like musical sounds?”
“No.” The nineteen-year-old newbie escort sounds exasperated. “Like where you stick a metal rod into your dick.”
“Jesus fuck. What the hell?” I choke on a gulp of coffee, hacking inelegantly until I manage to cough it all over the desk attachment of the seat I’m in. Up front, Fallon strides into the room with a briefcase in one hand and his to-go cup in the other. Wonder where he got his coffee from.
“Mr. Jeffries, I trust you won’t leave that mess for the cleaning staff to take care of.”
It is hot as fuck to see the guy I spanked and fucked face-first into the sand lecturing me over the top of his wire rims. I could pitch a tent right fucking now.
Since I saw him last, he’s rolled his sleeves up to the middle of his forearms, and the way he’s standing behind the lectern, focusing not on me but on the papers he’s pulling out while he chastises me, strangely gets my motor going.
“Of course not,” I manage. “Sorry, sir.”
He still doesn’t look my way, but his cheek twitches while he sorts through the papers in front of him.
Wanting to stay on the good side of the teacher I happen to be fucking, I dart out of the room, grab paper towels from the nearest washroom, and focus on mopping up my desk.
“Whoa, you made a mess.” Ravi chuckles.
I give him a sideways glare. “This is your fault. Who the fuck mentions sticking a metal rod in someone’s dick before eight a.m.?”
Ravi shrugs, unbothered. “You said you’d been doing your own research on kink. I figured you would have heard of it.”
“Well, I hadn’t. Now I’m pretty sure I’m going to have nightmares about it, so thanks very much.”
Ravi pats my hand and says, “It’s what friends do.” As if he’s spotted me cash for lunch or given me his notes from a missed class. Not put an image in my head I may never get out.
“I already know I’ll regret asking, but why are you hell-bent on researching shit like cock cages and sounding?”
He shrugs. “It’s like I told you guys at brunch, I’m trying to figure out what kind of stuff I might be into. I know I’m kinky. I’ve known that for a couple of years. But, like, there’s a whole huge menu of stuff out there. If I’m going to get to try it all, I need to know what all entails, right?”
How the fuck would I know? “Don’t most couples experiment together? My ex-girlfriend got a book on different sex positions one time, and we tried some stuff. Almost broke my dick trying reverse cowgirl, but still.”
Better to leave out the times I’ve asked our instructor how much he liked me shoving my dick into his ass. Which is worlds away from the fumbling around I did with Alyssa. My ex and I experimented, but what Fallon and I have is next level.
“I’m not part of a couple. I’m still a virgin, remember?”
“Right. How could I forget your virginity auction?” Okay, I have to say it.
Someone’s got to. “Which is a terrible idea, by the way. You sell yourself to the highest bidder and tell them they can do whatever the hell they want to you, and you don’t think you’ll end up hurt?
You can talk to anyone else in the group, Rav, and I promise we can each tell you a story about getting beat down over money. ”
I still have a scar on my right pinky, barely noticeable, from the time my mom’s boyfriend thought I’d stolen from him. He threatened to cut it off. I was nine.
When I was in high school, I worked for about five minutes at a snow cone stand.
One of my coworkers went out with a guy who turned out to be abusive.
The sex was consensual, but the bloody nose he gave her after was not.
I found her cowering in the back of the shop, icing her face with our product.
Ravi’s a nice kid. A smart kid with straight A’s from his summer classes and a bright future ahead of him. I don’t begrudge anybody their desire to explore the wild world of pleasure, but it sickens me to think of someone dimming his light.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” Ravi says. “I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m not so sure you do know,” I hiss in frustration.
“Mr. Jeffries, if you’re done gossiping, I’d like to get class started.”
Fuck. “Yes, sir. I apologize.”
Fallon’s hard glare makes my pulse go wonky. When we’re together, it’s like he’s a different person. A little anxious, a little unsure, and a whole lot willing to kneel at my feet and do whatever I ask of him. I love it. It’s hot as hell.
The hottest part is knowing I’m the only one who sees him that way.
But seeing him grip the polished wood of the lectern with both hands and stare me down like I’m the one who needs a spanking? I want to get him home and naked so bad it hurts.
Instead, I do my best to focus while he goes through a summary of The Scarlet Letter, which—am I the only person who thinks this book sounds depressing as hell?
Although he gets to the part about a priest knocking up the main character or something, and all I can say is, go priest guy.
The stuff about sin, shame, and judgment could be interesting too. I guess.
Except while everyone around me is scratching their pencils on paper or tapping away at their laptop keyboards, I’m distracted by Fallon’s tattooed forearms peeking out from beneath his rolled-up sleeves. The passion in his voice when he gets into a rant about the flaws of a puritanical society.
Around the room, I’m noticing a few girls in the first and second row who are looking at Fallon like he’s a tree they want to climb. Not that I blame them, except I do because he’s my fucking tree.
When someone behind me whispers something about “Mr. Monroe is so hot” I slam my hand on the desk, turning around to give a glare to a curly haired brunette who looks like she’s dressed for yoga class. She glares back like I’m the one with the problem, but she should keep her damn mouth shut.
This earns me another “look” from Fallon.
The way he teaches does it for me too, though.
I like the way he paces a little because it seems to help him think.
And the way he smiles when he calls on a student and they’re telling him what he wants to hear.
Especially the way he sharply reminds someone in the back row that he won’t confiscate their phone, but he will be sure to add more test questions into the lecture if people can’t manage to give him the courtesy of their full attention.
The courtesy of their full attention. Are you fucking kidding me?
My Fallon let me jerk him off right in the entry of his house with the front door open. Here, he has power over everyone in this room, even me. It’s also clear that he loves teaching and he’s good at it.
Also, what would it take to get Teacher Fallon to come out in the bedroom sometime?
“…we’ll focus on not only the theme of the story but the historical context of Hester’s…”
When he pushes his rolled sleeves up to his elbow, I lose the plot entirely.
He wets his lips as he flips a page in his notes, and I nearly forget there are other people in the room. Only nearly, because Ravi whispers next to me, “He could get me pregnant anytime.”
“That’s—” I stop when Fallon subtly flicks his teacher gaze my way.
I’m completely fucked.
Just like what happened to me on day one of class, the doors at the top of the auditorium bang open and a girl in a tennis skirt comes rushing in.
She’s flushed and dewy from the humidity outside, and she fumbles a stuttered apology as she makes her way to her seat.
Which, unfortunately for her, is as far from the door she came in as it could be.
Fallon raises his eyebrows. “Nice of you to finally join us,” he murmurs before returning to the subject at hand.
Okay, tell me that isn’t hot. That’s fucking hot, right?
My ex wasn’t into porn, but she was super into erotic fiction.
I remember her telling me about this story where a girl kept showing up late to class and the professor made her see him after class, at which point he bent her over his desk and gave her a spanking, a fingering, and eventually a good hard fuck.
The girl liked it so much that she started showing up late to class on purpose.
That look on Fallon’s face right now? I’m tempted to show up late for class every damn day.
It’s not until the lecture wraps up that I realize I haven’t taken a single note.
“That’s enough for today, everyone. On Friday, we’ll dig into the first act. If you haven’t yet read through the first eleven chapters, that had better be on your to-do list for this evening. I’ll know if you don’t. I will call on you, and you will be sorry.”
A few students laugh awkwardly, in that way you laugh when you’re not sure if someone’s being serious, but you hope they aren’t.
Almost as soon as people start packing up to go, a few girls and one blond twink-looking guy rush to the front of the room to ask questions.
About what, I couldn’t fucking say, but I’d guess it has something to do with getting directions into Fallon’s pants.
I startle when I realize I’m poking the lead tip of my pencil into my hand.
“You coming?” Ravi tugs my arm toward the exit, and it’s best if I follow him anyway.
On the way out, we both get a message from the group chat.
Simon: Prince, I’ve been thinking about it, and I feel like we need to know if you were named after one of those Prince Alvert dick piercings
Troy: Isn’t it Albert?
Dean: Who’s Albert?
Adam: Do you, Prince? Have a dick piercing?
Dean’s not the only one in the group who’s short on brain cells.
Michael: That’s a completely inappropriate thing to ask someone you’ve just met, Adam.
Troy: He’s right. But also…do you??
Prince: Um. My mom named me after the singer, not the piercing.
I shake my head and stick my phone back in my pocket. Then I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder to where Fallon is holding court.
A blonde named Alice—okay, I don’t know her name, but she looks like an Alice—is wrapping a strand of hair around her finger while she chatters away at Fallon.
He laughs and responds with something that makes everyone else standing around laugh too.
There’s an ugly, slithering thing working its way through my stomach right now.
She’d better not touch him, or I swear I’ll strangle her with her own hair.
Ravi laughs and shakes his head. “Those guys are such idiots. Hey, you okay?”
I may or may not be giving Fallon and his groupies my best murder face. Not that any of them notice.
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Fine. Let’s get the hell out of here.”