14. Chapter 13
NATHAN
“Nice to meet you,” I said, my lips curling into something polite as I shook hands with our new English department head.
“The pleasure’s mine, Mr. Thorne.” She smiled like she meant it.
“Please, Claire, call me Nathan.” I step back, letting Michael swoop in and play tour guide around the humanities hall.
My phone buzzed. Lilly again.
I want to talk, Nathan. Before you sign those papers, you owe me that much.
I made a mistake, and I want to work this out… forgive you, the way you forgave me.
Nathaniel.
I sighed and slipped the phone back into my pocket. I wished her the best, but I wasn’t going to waste more of her time or mine. I should’ve ended things years ago, when she cheated, instead of clinging to a familiar routine that was already dead.
I thought it hurt me to watch her leave, but I think it was the choice being ripped from me that hurt my ego more.
If anything, what truly wrecked me, and lost me the most sleep was my behavior towards Ryan. I was supposed to be an adult but instead essentially tore him down for a mistake I made, and acted like a toddler.
I kissed him, I pressed his body against me and nearly screwed him.
I did those things out of pure will, but I dare blame him for putting a light on it?
Michael reappears at my side, eyes fixed on Claire across the room. “Damn, she’s hot.”
I give him a forced smile, which he takes as encouragement. “Do me a solid—talk to her for me. Let me know if she’s married.”
“Why can’t you?”
He rolled his eyes. “Because it’ll be obvious coming from me. You’re married.”
I sipped my coffee, feeling the weight of the divorce papers in my bag. “Fine.”
He patted me on the back, satisfied.
I weaved through students clustered around poster boards until I found Claire studying an old project from last year.
She spotted me instantly, tugging her brown hair into a high ponytail. “This is cute,” she says, pointing at the title: How Positive Affirmations Result in Higher Life Expectancy.
I chuckled. “That one was fun to participate in.”
“Oh yeah?” She sipped from her cup, apple juice catching the light. “What did they have you do?”
“Just a list of positive quotes to say in the mirror, then an interview after a month to discuss the results.”
She chuckled, glancing around before leaning in to whisper, “Feels like a weekend project for a final, doesn’t it?”
My laugh was more polite than genuine. “One could say that. They enjoyed it.”
Her smirk widened. “A whole year for this? Please tell me they got a C.”
She stepped closer, brushing my shirt, eyes locked on mine.
She’s flirting. Probably single. Or a cheater.
Before I could respond, another presence slipped in, low voice, calm but cutting.
“Though, it’s worth noting the student who made this escaped a cult.
Positive reinforcement was part of the structure that kept them trapped.
When they left, they felt like they’d done something wrong, when in reality…
” He gestures at the poster. “It was just the conditioning.”
Ryan.
His smelled made my stomach clench, fuck it was an intoxicating scent.
He stood close enough that Claire instinctively shifted back. His smile was bright, harmless to anyone who didn't know better.
“Hi, Professor.”
Hoodie today. Made him look even younger, nothing like the little drunk deviant in my car Friday night. Not that I had much room to judge. I’d been drunk as hell too.
Still, my mind flashes back, his text about “Devon,” my irritation at the thought of him running to someone else when he was too drunk to drive home.
I force myself to look away from that smile and back to Claire. “Yeah, that’s an important footnote.”
Claire chuckled, though her posture has shifted, more guarded now. “Oh, that’s admirable.”
Ryan gave a polite nod, then turned to me. “Professor, can I borrow you?”
I almost shook my head, narrowed my eyes in warning, until I noticed Claire watching us. I nodded instead.
He kept his expression professional as we walked, but I knew him well enough to feel the current beneath it.
We reached a quiet corner. He tsked. “Not here. Your office.”
I hesitated, but still followed. My legs moved before my brain caught up.
The elevator ride was a blur of greetings from other professors and students, none of them knowing the truth. To them, we’re just heading to office hours to discuss a grade.
When we reached my office, he shut and locked the door in one motion.
He went straight for my tie like it was his by right.
“Woah, what are you doing?”
He didn't stop, just fixed me with that too-bright gaze. “I’ve decided you don’t get an opinion anymore on what happens between us.”
Huh?
I scoffed, stepping back. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a coward. Getting drunk because you can’t face me sober. Cute at first, but I’m over it. You’re about to be divorced, don’t think, just let it happen.”
Did I mishear him?
“Ryan—”
“Shut up.” The word landed like a slap before his hand did, light but firm against my cheek. He caught my chin, angling my head where he wanted it. “I’ve had enough of your back and forth. You’re mine. I won you fair and square, and now I’m not holding back.”
The whiplash nearly staggered me. Friday night, he was drunk and pliant in my passenger seat. Now, he’s smug and sure, like he owned the ground we’re standing on.
“You’re mine,” he repeated. “Bet you haven’t had sex in a while. I could fix that.”
I scoff again, but his hands curl over my head, closing the space. “I can show you what you’re missing.”
“Ryan—”
“Baby to you.”
“Baby?”
“Yes?” he says, leaning closer. The doorknob rattles briefly, then silence.
“No, that’s not—why am I calling you baby?”
His grin widens. “Because I said so.”
He teases, “You made a big deal of telling me your wife is boring and I’m so much better, a perfect puzzle piece for your life.”
“I didn’t say that,” I deadpan.
“You basically did.”
“I was drunk, Ryan. I think you’re misunderstanding.”
He grabs me and kisses me hard enough that the divorce papers in my bag flash through my mind. Separated, not divorced.
I knew better, but I couldn't help but find my hands around his waist.
He kept going, mouth demanding, his voice a low possessive chant— Mine. Mine. Mine. And damn it, part of me reacted. My tongue met his– muscle memory from that first time he kissed me when I should’ve pushed him away.
A groan escaped me before I could stop it. He’s good. Too good.
Why was he intoxicating? Him? This insolent brat.
“Good boy.” He purred it as he hoped onto my desk, legs sliding around me. My restraint was fraying fast.
“Ryan, wait. I’m not divorced yet.”
A wicked grin. “You have the papers?”
I nodded. He plucked them from me like I’ve just handed over a gift. “Cute.”
He flipped them open. “You haven’t signed.”
“Was just getting to it.”
“Your full name is Nathaniel Thorne?”
I nod. He stifled a laugh. “Very cute. Get me a pen.”
I moved before I could think about it, and handed him one. He clicked it open, handed it back, then rolled my chair out and gestured for me to sit.
“Sign it.”
I started to speak, but then he started kneeling, mouth pressing against me through the fabric.
My brain shorted out. I should've stopped him, but my body went still. Teeth grazed my zipper, then he unbuttoned my slacks like it was nothing.
“Mmh… bet that bitch Claire wished she were here right now, the way she was eye-fucking you.”
“She’s… she’s new,” I stammer, breath catching as his warm exhale ghosted over me.
When’s the last time someone did this?
I grip the pen, eyes catching on the Sign Here line just as he spit on my cock, the heat of it pooling low.
Fuck. Did I lock it? If someone were to walk in I could say bye to my career.
“Sign it, Professor,” he murmured to me. “Please?”
I scrawled the first initial, his hand wrapping around me, not even fully, but tight. A sharp inhale cut through my teeth.
Another sound of spitting. I look down.
A mistake.
His pretty face was pressed against me, eyes locking with mine before sliding shut so he could lick his own spit off my cock like it was the best thing he’s ever tasted.
I felt myself get lightheaded.
Jesus Christ. Pull yourself together, Nathan.
A knock jarred me, Ryan ducked under the desk, dragging the chair closer with him.
I cleared my throat to send whoever it was away—
The door clicked open.
And there she is. Brown waves, deep blue eyes.
Claire.
“Hey, stranger.” Claire’s smile swept the room before settling on me. “Sorry—just got access and was checking around, looking for a—” Her gaze dropped to my hand. “A pen!”
Under the desk, Ryan hummed against me, mouth closing over my cock like he has all the time in the world.
Claire stepped closer. I forced a smile.
Part of me was wired with fear of getting caught. The other part, the smaller, nastier part, was savoring the thrill. Talking to a colleague while a student was on his knees beneath my desk, licking me like it was his favorite pastime?
I had to suppress my groan.
She closed the distance. My cock twitched involuntarily as Ryan licked the slit, and Ryan moaned, which I mask with a cough.
“Mind if I snag that from you?”
“Ye—yeah.” My voice stumbled. “Go ahead.”
Her eyes narrow with curiosity. “What are you signing?”
Ryan dragged his mouth lower, tongue tracing the vein before he pressed kisses against my balls, first the left, then the right. I bit my cheek, desperate to stay composed.
“They’re just—” my voice hitched, “—fuck, um… divorce papers.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, sympathy painted on her face. “Oh no, you’re divorcing?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She softened into a smile. “Hey, if you want, after this, we could go to the bar. I could buy you a drink.”
Ryan froze. So do I. Then teeth, lightly grazing my cock.
Fuck.
“Not today,” I managed, my voice tighter than I wanted it to be. “I have stuff to do.”
She pouted, and Ryan rewarded me with a slow, deliberate lick back up my length.
“Aww. Well, I’ll leave you to it, handsome.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before I blurted, “Are you married?”
Ryan stilled again, his breath hot against me.
Claire turned, a sly smile on her lips. “I’m actually single.” She crossed her arms loosely over her chest. “What’s with the interest?”
I can’t see Ryan, but his breathing quickened, and I know how close I am to him doing something reckless enough to give us away.
“Michael was asking,” I said, casually. “He’s interested in you.”
“Oh.” Her smile faltered, then reappeared. “Maybe we can all get a drink sometime.”
“Sure. Maybe.”
She left, and I didn't speak until the door clicked shut.
I really did need new locks.
Ryan emerged, not even bothering to finish what he started, and his expression is sharp.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded, ignoring the fact my pants were still open.
“What? I can’t control what she asks me.”
“Why does she have a key to your place anyway?”
“This isn’t my place,” I say flatly. “Everyone has a key here except the students.”
He huffed. “She wants you.”
I rolled my eyes, but he grabbed my arm. “Trust me, I know she does. I bet she didn’t care that you were married. Probably saw it as a cute little challenge to get you to fuck her.”
His voice is tight, angry.
“Yeah. Sounds like someone I know,” I shoot back. His glare wipes the smirk off my face.
“Ryan, I’m not stupid.”
“You’re oblivious. You can’t tell when someone wants you.”
“I can.” I exhaled. “I know she was flirting. I was just being polite.”
“That’s worse. You’re egging her on. She looked like a homewrecker.”
I gave him a look as I zipped up my pants. He pouted.
“Trust me, I know what I’m talking about,” he muttered. “I’m exactly like her.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.” His voice dropped. “I didn’t care that you were married…”
I reached up and pushed a piece of hair behind his ear.
“She won’t either.”
His eyes flickered with something sharper than jealousy.
I pulled him in, more to settle him than anything else. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Focus, Nathan. Manners. Boundaries. He's your student, if nothing else.
“Ryan, look at me.”
His pretty green eyes cut through me.
“It’s hypocritical, huh?” he said, a smile ghosting his lips. “But you’re mine. Nobody can steal you. Only I can do that. It’s not the same—”
“Shush.” His mouth snapped shut. He pouts, eyes softening.
“I know you were flirting with me,” I told him. “I was aware. I’m not stupid… I just—” I cleared my throat. “A part of me didn’t mind it.”
His pout shifted into a slow, dangerous grin. “Didn’t mind it?”
I sighed. “You want the truth?”
He played with my tie and nodded. His face came closer, and tried with all my might not to stare at those plush lips.
“I looked forward to it. Most days.”
That grin bloomed into something real, almost shy.
But then it faded. “If you ever let her touch you,” he murmurs, voice low enough to scrape my spine, “I’ll make sure she never walks into this office again.”
Jesus .