The Professor

Chapter Eighteen | "Yes, professor."

⚠️Trigger warning: themes of suicide appear in this chapter. ⚠️

James takes charge immediately. He pulls on the hem of my jumper and has me undressed within a matter of seconds.

"Kiss me," he demands.

I do as I'm instructed, only to be told I'm doing it wrong.

"Not there," he insists, smirking. "Here."

He takes hold of my hand and together, he makes us cup his erection. I quickly catch onto his intention and drop to my knees, more than happy to oblige. His taste is intoxicating as I tease the tip of his cock. He moans as I wrap my lips around his flesh and suck, greedy in my need for more.

"Sloan, baby, I love seeing you on your knees for me."

I smile around my mouthful, enjoying every second. He has no idea how much I love watching him lose control because of what I'm doing. The way his eyebrows furrow when he's experiencing deep pleasure is the biggest turn on and it drives me wild when he lets slip one of his signature moans.

"Stand up," he orders, helping me by holding out his hands.

I manage to gracefully meet his height—with the exception of the few inches he has over me—and smile.

"I'm going to blindfold you now," he informs, loosening his tie.

Holy fuck!

"You won't come until I say so. Understood?"

"Yes, professor."

He smirks, undoubtedly impressed.

"Close your eyes."

The tie is secured tightly around my head, and everything fades to black. My other senses immediately kick in, my hearing and touch heightened the most. I can tell he's undressing by the rustling of clothes and the quickness of his breath. The longer I wait, the wetter I get, dizzy with anticipation. I desperately want to touch him. To feel his hard muscles beneath my fingertips. In the end, I don't get the chance as I'm encouraged onto my back.

"Spread your legs, baby."

I comply, eager to impress. James could quite literally ask me to do anything right now and I'd happily do so. I have nothing but respect for this man, and find I want to please him at every given opportunity.

"You look fucking phenomenal, Sloan," he shares, dragging a finger along my sleek opening.

I gasp at the sensation, alongside his compliment. I've never been described as phenomenal and—once again—James is proving that I am worthy of such praise. And it's not what he says that makes me take pause, it's the way he truly makes me believe what he's saying. Perhaps it's his delivery? The fact he says it with such conviction. In any case, my confidence grows the longer we're together, and that's something I can never thank him enough for.

"Sometimes, I can't believe you're all mine."

I grin, completely obsessed with everything he has to say.

"Tell me your mine," he says.

"I'm yours," I pant, nipples puckering under such talk.

"Tell me what you want," he continues, slipping a finger into my entrance.

The minute he goes deep, I see stars.

"I want your body to blanket mine," I respond, loving that more than anything. "I want you to press your piecing into my flesh and fuck me until the only thing I know is your name."