8. Chapter 7
NATHAN
What the hell was wrong with him?
Had he seriously broken into my house?
Snuck into my pool?
What the hell was he planning to do if I hadn’t found him there?
Spy on me?
I shook my head.
Focus, he was getting away.
I pushed faster, boots crunching against the damp ground, his heavy breathing pulling me forward.
It was pitch-dark, but I could still make out his shape.
The slope of his back.
The tight little ass that—
Christ. You’re married, Nathan.
You’re his fucking professor.
I stumbled over a root, pace faltering, breath hitching, not from the run, but from the memory of him in my classroom.
The feel of his plush mouth against mine.
His wiry body twisting beneath me, begging—
My steps slowed without me realizing it.
My wife was literally upstairs.
Probably still replaying the moment I told her I was going for a midnight run, something I never did.
The disbelief in her face had made me feel like a complete asshole.
Focus, Nathan.
I ducked behind a tree, watching him pause ahead, scanning the darkness.
He was shaking, cold, but still somehow magnetic enough to make me forget, again , why I was chasing him at all.
I grit my teeth at the realization, he was in my house.
How the hell did he even find where I live? I saw no cars in the driveway, and campus is a long way from here.
He stopped again, bent over, gasping. Panic flashed across his face, quick and raw. Moonlight made his skin look pale, his soaked clothes clinging to every sharp line of his frame.
I could catch him now, take him down, drag him back, even if he kicked and screamed.
Even if my wife was still upstairs.
I exhaled, and the sound gave me away. His head snapped toward me.
Our eyes locked for a beat. His widened, mine narrowed, and he bolted.
“Shit.”
He tore deeper into the forest, the dark swallowing him. Toward Corkland Waterfall.
Did he even know? One wrong step and he’d be over.
I pushed harder, branches scraping my arms, my shoes slipping in the wet leaves. His breathing was ragged now, each gasp pulling me closer, until he glanced over his shoulder and stumbled.
“Ryan,” I called, closing in, dropping into a crouch. “Jesus, are you—”
A sudden kick caught me in the ribs. Not hard enough to break anything, but enough to make me grunt and grab my side. He used that moment to roll away, scrambling upright.
“Fuck.”
The roar of the waterfall grew louder. Mist hung in the air, the ground slick underfoot.
Something glowed in the dirt, his phone, screen lit with a call from someone named Devon. I snatched it up, stuffed it in my pocket, and kept moving.
Through the trees, a flash of blond hair. He looked back, saw me, and panic ripped across his face.
“Leave me alone!” he shouted, still running.
The water's edge was only yards ahead. He didn’t see it.
“Creep!” he spat over his shoulder.
I didn’t slow.
“You’re such a fucking asshole, fuck—”
I lunged, wrapping my arms around him just before the drop. We crashed into the dirt, rolling through mud and wet leaves. I braced my arms so I wouldn’t crush him.
When we stopped, he was on top, dripping, chest heaving against mine, every muscle taut. I could feel him shaking, part cold, part something else.
My shirt’s soaked and streaked with mud.
The waterfall was right there. Ryan turned his head, startled.
“Oh my god! What the fuck? Why didn’t you say there was a fucking waterfall right there?”
He huffed, then grinned.
“Whoa, this is a good view.”
I tried to roll him off, but he clung to me like a koala, laughing.
“Get off,” I muttered.
Instead, he laughed harder, his weight pressing me into the ground.
“Stop it, Ryan. This isn’t funny. You—”
He wouldn’t let go, so I grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head.
“Enough.”
His legs stayed hooked around my waist, but at least he’d stopped thrashing.
“You’re not very strong. Stop,” he scoffed, though he didn’t fight me anymore.
It was pitch dark, the waterfall crashing behind us. The full moon barely caught the angles of his soaked, dirt-smeared face.
My worry drained away, replaced by anger.
“How do you know where I live? What gave you the bright idea to break in?” I tightened my grip.
“Ouch, please—ouchy,” he whimpered, and I eased my hold slightly.
“Ryan. Talk.”
He met my gaze, breathing hard.
“I was just in the area.”
“My house?”
“Ryan.”
He sighed. “I’m freezing. Can’t I—”
“No. Answer the question.”
A smug look spread across his face, completely at odds with the mud on his skin and the fact that he was pinned beneath me. Something sharp twisted in my chest.
“I just wanted to introduce myself to your wife,” he said, teasing. “See if we could compare notes on how you kiss.”
The comment blackened my mood instantly. I stopped caring that he was cold.
“What the hell did you just say?”
His smile faltered for a split second before snapping back into place.
“What? No open relationship? I just really want to thank her… for teaching you that little lip thing you do when you’re groaning and—”
I shoved my hand over his mouth. His eyebrows knit together, muffled noises spilling against my palm.
“There’s no off switch on you, is there?” I muttered. “I’m going to take you home, then I’m calling your father.”
I let go, pushing myself off him. He unhooked from my waist instantly.
“What the hell did you just say?”
“I’m taking you home.” I grabbed his hand, holding it just tight enough to make my point.
“You are not calling my father. Don’t even think about it.” His voice was rough, sharp, right on the edge of splintering.
“You broke into my house, you—”
“If you call him, I’ll tell him you came onto me,” he cut in, quick and certain. “I’ll tell him you forced me to suck your cock, forced yourself on me, told me to go to your house or else you’d stop—” His eyes locked on mine, full of conviction.
I froze. That little—
That fucking—
I grabbed his throat. “You’ll lie? So I—”
“Yes.” He squeezed my wrist, eyes blazing. “I’ll tell that wife of yours too. I can play dumb. I’ll cry, I don’t care. You won’t be telling my father. How’s your wife gonna react to you forcing yourself on a student, huh?”
I felt my blood run cold. “My wife knows the kind of man I am. She won’t—”
He laughed. I felt his Adam’s apple move against my palm. “No? Really? Not even if I show her the scarf you gave me? Your gloves? You don’t think she’ll believe me when I tell her exactly how you like to bite down on the bottom lip during a kiss?”
I went still. My grip eased without me meaning it.
He muttered now, grin twisted and ugly. “Tell her how you taste like a bit of nicotine and birchwood. Would she stick around when your career’s over? I’ll make sure you end up in prison if that’s what it takes. But you’re not telling my father, you piece of—”
I dragged him toward a fallen log, seething. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him so bad.
“You’re cruel. Nothing like what I imagined when I met you.” I hauled him over my lap, ignoring his yelp.
“What the fuck? Did you hear what I just said? I’ll ruin your life, let me go.”
“Silence.”
My heart pounded harder and harder as he lay sprawled across my lap. His whole life he’d gone without consequences, so now he thought he could control anyone, even if it meant destroying someone else’s life. If it wasn’t him being validated, then fuck everyone else.
“You’re a brat,” I told him, low but edged. I was trying not to lose control, but it was clawing at my throat. “You’ve never had to earn a damn thing, have you? Daddy hands you everything, believes every word you say. You think that means he cares?”
His breathing stuttered. “Fuck you.” The words lacked his usual bite.
I pulled down his pants and he started thrashing. “Fuck off… fuck you. Fuck—”
I covered his mouth. He swallowed hard against my palm.
No underwear. He was cold to the touch.
“You think you’re a good person? Threatening someone like that?”
He exhaled, shaky, his voice muffled. “I’m going to ruin your life, asshole.”
I slapped him. The sound cracked through the forest, loud even over the roar of the waterfall. He whimpered and shifted.
“Why do you act like this?” My hand hovered over his pale ass.
He shuddered but glared back at me. “Enjoy this while you can, pervert, because I’m reporting—”
Another slap. And another.
He cursed me out between whimpers, but after a few more swats, his breathing changed.
“You don’t have to be like this, brat.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he angled his ass higher. My hand smoothed over the warm pink skin. “You can be good. I’ve seen it.”
His breath hitched. He bit his lip, turning slightly, eyes glassy with tears.
“Please. Please.” His voice shook. “I need punishment. I’m not innocent. I’m dirty.” He looked away. “So dirty.”
The strain in his voice made something in me go still. I spanked him again, harder, trying to ground him. He breathed against my thigh, trembling.
I went gentler, rubbing the reddened skin. “You are dirty, Ryan.” He shuddered, letting out a whimper. “But I’m going to take you home and clean you up, okay?”
He shook his head. “I’m bad. No matter what you do, I’m going to be dirty.”
I kept my touch slow, steady. “You’re not bad, Ryan. You just need proper discipline.”
When I lifted him, he was flushed, eyes far away.
“I’m dirty too, see?” I gestured to my own clothes.
He stared, gave me a faint smile, before looking down at his hands. “I’m dirty everywhere.”
“And I already told you—I’ll clean you up. Do you not trust me?”
His eyes widened like saucers. He nodded. “You will? Even though I said I’d ruin your life? I don’t deserve—”
He shuddered and covered himself.
“You’re cold. C’mon.” I lifted him bridal-style, and he curled into me.
“I won’t call your dad.”
He exhaled, relieved.
It rubbed me wrong how scared he seemed of his father, but that was a topic to breach for a different day.
“But some things have to change, Ryan. This is not normal behavior, and—” I stopped when he looked down.
“Let’s get you warmed up first.”
And let’s hope my wife was asleep.