15. Chapter 14
RYAN
Sam:
Am I ever gonna see my worst half?
Helooo?
Stop ignoring me!
Me:
I’ll visit soon.
I toss my phone onto the couch and focus on the stale cereal sloshing in my bowl. The flakes have gone limp, blending into the cloudy milk, but I shovel another bite in anyway, chewing like it’s Nathan’s fault.
He’s finally divorced, this should be easy. He should be crawling into my lap by now. Instead, he’s more hellbent than ever on being professional .
Professional. Cute word for ignoring me.
He signed the divorce papers last week, and the next day, poof. Vanished. The one time I lingered after class, some smug sophomore told me he’d already left… with Claire.
Claire.
That prissy little bitch is like a parasite in stilettos. I don’t even know how she’s managed it, but in one week she’s wedged herself into his schedule more than I have all semester. Always at his office hours. Always finding an excuse to “grab lunch.”
And she’s not subtle about it.
Nathan isn’t overly friendly with her, which I appreciate, but he’s patient. Too patient. And that’s dangerous. She’s playing isolation, the first move in any good hunt. She wants him to herself.
The other day, when I was stretched out in his bed (without his knowledge, obviously), I heard his phone ping while he was in the shower. Claire. Text after text.
If I could delete them without him noticing, I would. Sometimes, I do. But she’s still crawling her way in.
It’s pissing me off enough to take it out on him.
I drain the rest of the soggy milk, wipe my mouth, and get dressed. Six p.m., not my usual hour to go out, but perfect for catching teachers winding down over a drink.
Like my Nathan.
The bar’s warm with chatter and dim light. I spot them immediately.
She’s leaned into him so far she might as well be in his lap, laughing with her hand brushing his arm. My stomach twists.
Mr. Norris is there too, all smiles. Good, maybe he can take her and leave Nathan for me.
She sees me before Nathan does. That tiny, practiced smile, fake, polite, before she turns his attention away from my direction.
Yeah, I know what you are.
Predator meets predator.
I plant myself at the bar in my tightest jeans, the kind that leave nothing to imagination, and catch her glancing over again. She sips her drink like she’s not sizing me up.
Cute.
She might suspect I’m into him, but she doesn’t know he’s into me. Not yet.
And she sure as hell can’t compete with me.
“Excuse me,” I say to the bartender. “Margarita, please.”
“ID?”
I hand it over, and he nods, mixing my drink.
By the time I turn back, my view is blocked by a man, older, broad-shouldered. Not my usual type, but perfect cover.
“Hello, sir,” I tease.
He smirks. “Hey, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?”
I gesture to my margarita. “Trying to take advantage of me already?”
He laughs. I lean in, lowering my voice. “I wouldn’t mind another one.”
He orders it without hesitation, and I give him a smile that could melt ice. I can feel Nathan’s gaze flick over here, once, twice.
Good. Watch me.
The older guy talks; I half-listen, half-track Nathan and Claire. Every time she leans closer, my nails dig into my thigh. Every time Nathan looks at her, I imagine peeling her face off.
By my third drink, I’m warm and buzzing, just enough to let my irritation settle into something sharp.
If Claire thinks she’s getting him tonight, she’s out of her mind.
***
I had let myself into his house, same as always. If Claire thought she could cling to him until he took her home, she clearly hadn’t realized who she was up against.
In the kitchen, I poured a glass of water, taking slow, deliberate sips as I peeled away my clothes piece by piece, leaving a trail toward the bedroom.
I waited.
The sound of tires on gravel pulled me to the window. Headlights swept across the drive, then faded as the engine cut.
He was alone. No Claire.
A slow smile tugged at my mouth. I bit my lip and finished sliding my pants down, letting them pool at my feet.
***
“Professor…” I let it roll off my tongue, slow and warm, giving him a look that said I’d been picturing him like this all day. “Mmm. Looking good.”
He was taller than me, but not by much. Close enough that I could read every flicker in his expression as he tried to decide what to do with me.
“Didn’t I tell you my home was off-limits?”
I stepped closer anyway, fingers threading into the back of his hair. He didn’t move. His eyes stayed on me, steady, but there was heat there, buried under all that professor calm.
I pulled gently, just enough to feel the give. His hair was soft. I tilted his chin, studying his face, and then leaned in to bite his neck. Hard enough to leave something he couldn’t hide.
His hands tensed at his sides, and I smiled against his skin. My fingers brushed his zipper, testing.
“That’s enough, Ryan.” His voice was low. He pulled my hand away, wouldn’t look down, like that would stop me from noticing how hard he was.
“That was further than you usually let me go,” I murmured. toying with the bottom buttons of his shirt. “I think you’re learning. Good boy.”
He sighed, took my wrists, and put my hands back at my sides. “Do not come to my house. Understand? Leave.”
“No.” I walked backward until I hit the bed, then sat and patted the spot next to me, biting my lip.
He stayed where he was. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, snapped a quick photo, and set it down before he could reach for it.
“If you kick me out, I’ll send that to my father. Tell him a certain professor likes inviting students over.”
His jaw tightened. That look, that mix of anger and something darker, made my chest go warm. I knew he wanted to grab me, and when he finally moved toward the bed, I straightened, ready.
The hit came sharp across my face, and I let the sting linger before sliding to my knees in front of him. My eyes found his. “Please,” I said softly. “Can I? I’ll leave after…”
He hesitated, but I could see the decision forming. “Fine.”
I smiled, unbuttoning his pants. “Daddy,” I whispered.
His hand was in my hair almost instantly, guiding me. I hummed against him, slow, unhurried, watching him from under my lashes.
“Did you let that older man at the bar fuck you before you came here?” he asked.
I pulled back just enough to smirk. “So what if I did?” I kissed the tip, slow and mocking. “You’re not jealous, are you, Professor?”
He bit his cheek, his hand pulling my hair strands a bit, “Should I be?”
I smirked, “I don't know, should I be about Claire?”
I peppered his balls, and he groaned.
“No.”
I stand up, catching him off guard, and push him back onto the bed, his pants around his ankles. He lands with a low thud, eyes on me as I climb on top, rolling my hips against his.
His dick is out and I'm naked, so the friction feels amazing.
His gaze is hazy, his breath uneven, the kind of look that usually means I’ve already won.
My hand slides down, fingers finding the nightstand drawer. I fish out a condom, tearing it from the box with a smirk.
That’s when his hand shoots up, catching my wrist.
His eyes darkened, but he stayed still. “Ryan… you’re my student. That line matters. You know it does.”
I stepped back, my jaw tightening. “So that’s it? You can touch me, kiss me, let me get on my knees for you, but when it comes to actually having me, you’re suddenly Saint Nathan?”
“It’s not about being a saint,” he said evenly. “It’s about not crossing a line I can’t uncross.”
Something in my chest twisted, and before I could stop it, the words were spilling out, sharp, fast, nothing like the teasing from seconds ago. “What’s the big deal? It’s just sex. Isn’t that all I’m good for?”
He stilled.
I gave him a smile that had no warmth in it. “Isn’t that what you told me? In your bed? That you were just horny. That I wasn’t the kind of person you’d ever want in any ‘real capacity.’”
“Ryan—”
“You said I was a lapse in judgment. You said you’d never want to be with someone like me.” My voice was flat now, almost calm. “So what’s the problem? Let me be what I’m good for.”
“That’s not—”
I laughed, low and humorless. “Save it. You can keep your morals, Professor. I’ll find someone who doesn’t choke on the idea of wanting me.”
I tried to keep my composure as I grabbed my clothes in lightning speed. I could hear him tugging his pants on.
“Ryan.”
I grabbed my hoodie and slung it over my shoulder. His eyes twitched like he wanted to stop me, but he didn’t move.
And that, more than anything, made me walk out.