Professor’s Rule 01 - Giving an Inch

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Book: Professor’s Rule 01 - Giving an Inch Read Free
Author: Heidi Belleau
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accoutrements. A corset alone, especially in a specific cut and material, can actually be masculine-leaning-androgynous.
    Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.
    Although I certainly could see myself enjoying you in some panties, too.
    James’s face burned with shame just at the thought. And yes, this was why they’d broken up—or rather, why James had walked away. Too much, too fast, always pushing the limit. No matter what you gave Carson, he wanted more. More, more, more. Right at the end, James had begun to wonder if he was going to wind up like an orange squeezed to pulp.
    Maybe it was time to try something different. Something he hadn’t said before. Hadn’t known how to say. He’d been so under the spell that by the time things had become more than he could handle, he hadn’t known how to refuse.
    Too far .
    Oh, did my clever little student finally realize that things don’t have to be all or nothing, even with me?
    Okay, and now he was getting pissed off.
    You could have fucking said that at the time.
    Asshole.
    You’re right. I’m sorry. We should have been clearer on boundaries from the start. You were just so wide-eyed and eager, I suppose I got carried away.
    James blinked at his phone, gobsmacked. An apology? Fucking hell, who was he texting with again?
    He was still trying to figure out how to respond without sounding ungracious when Satish knocked on the door.
    Satish is back .
    Oh, so that’s his name. Well, by all means, don’t let me keep you.
    James opened the door, smiling, forgetting that his fly was open and his pants were hanging halfway down his hips.
    Satish’s eyebrows lifted, but he was obviously far too good at his job to say anything. He had what looked like four or five pairs of pants over his arm. “I’m afraid all of these are at the very least going to need to be hemmed. There’s a couple colors and fabrics here for you to choose from, though. The brown might look nice with that vest you’re wearing.”
    “Cool. Thanks.” James, inexplicably bewildered, accepted the stack of clothes with arms that seemed to move of their own accord.
    “No problem. There’s a little button on the wall there you can ring if you need anything else, but I’ll leave you to it for now.”
    “Yeah. Thanks. Thanks. I promise to buy something.” Jeeze, now he was babbling. Time to close the door before things got any more awkward.
    With timing so impeccable James could’ve sworn Carson was psychic, another text arrived the moment he threw the bolt on the door.
    You didn’t invite him in?
    Jesus, Carson. No. He’s just trying to do his job.
    James took the pile of slacks and hung them on the bar fastened to one of the cubicle’s walls. Four altogether. James immediately passed over the first pair. Wool, yuck. Just what he needed: to be doing a massively important presentation with itchy balls.
    Oh, very well then, although I can’t recall that ever stopping you before.
    Flashes of being shoved up against the grimy surface of a handicapped stall with a busboy rutting between his legs while the Professor looked on. Or taking a guy to the seedy backroom of some club while the Professor calmly sipped his drink at the table after giving James his marching orders: Go fuck that guy and report back when you’re done .
    No big deal.
    Correction. Never stopped YOU , James replied, but damn the fucking man because a very insistent erection was now poking out of his open fly.
    Let’s see your other trouser options.
    Oh, that asshole. That prick. That dickbag.
    I can’t, he texted back, wondering if Carson could read the way his teeth were gritted in the words.
    Whyever not? He could hear the smoothly arched eyebrow, envision the disingenuous expression.
    You know why.
    Let me see that, then.
    James reached down, taking his cock in hand, literally weighing his options. If he did this, there’d be no going back.
    God, he wanted to do this. Carson—striving to please Carson—was like a fucking

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