Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I’m forty years old, a tenured professor with investments, property, and a 401k.
But what I crave is to submit. To hand over control to Colton. We met on an app. His needs matched mine. It was only supposed to be once, then twice. No commitment, so I don’t feel bad cutting contact.
Then my world implodes when I get custody of siblings I didn’t know I have.
Everything would have been fine, I would have survived on my own, if not for Sir, my hookup, walking through the doors of my classroom.
He’s over a decade younger than me, and now I’m his professor, yet Sir is giving me schedules I need and caretaking from a distance. I know I should stay away, but I can’t. No matter what he gives me, I want more.
Colton
I’m twenty-eight years old, starting my first semester as a transfer student at a local university, finally following my dreams.
And then I see him, the sub I haven’t stopped thinking about, the one who comes undone for me in ways I’ve never experienced before. He makes all my Dominant instincts flare to life. I’ve always loved caretaking, but James makes me need it on a bone-deep level.
It’s not long before he’s on his knees for me again, surrendering in ways we both crave. He’s forbidden, my professor, my good boy, and I’m his Sir…his dirty little secret. But it’s not enough. I want it all from him, if only he’ll let me have it.
Dirty Little Secret is a student/professor romance, with an older sub and a younger Dom. Please use the look inside feature for a more in-depth content description and warning
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
James
May
I can’t stop my fingers from drumming against the steering wheel.
Traffic is ridiculous, which means I’m running the risk of being late. Well, not late, really, because I’m never late for anything, but running the risk of not arriving at least fifteen minutes early, like I do with everything.
What will Sir think if I’m not timely?
Tap, tap, tap, tap. My fingers continue to move as I sit at the red light, playing a rapid beat that matches my pulse.
This is my second time meeting with Colton, and I don’t want to disappoint him already. Even more importantly, being late would mess with my head, and it’s already hectic in there, no matter how much I try to pretend it’s not. That’s one of the reasons I need this—the discipline, the organization, not having to decide what to do. In every other aspect of my life, I need control, but this, in these moments and if I find the right Dom, I’m able to get out of my head and just be.
I startle when the car behind me honks, letting me know the light is green.
“Get it together, James,” I say softly to myself, frustrated I was spacing out like that. I’m usually very good at holding it together—I depend on being able to hold it together.
Focus. Most of life’s problems can be dealt with by hard work, focus, and determination, so that’s what I force myself to do the rest of the drive to the house I own in a suburban neighborhood. It’s farther from the college where I teach political science. I don’t live here. I don’t even know why I bought it, but once I started meeting up with Doms, it became a place to do that.
I pull into the driveway at three. I park beside Sir’s older SUV. I don’t know what he does for a living, but from the things he’s said and his callouses when he touches me, I assume it’s something with his hands.
It fits him. I can’t imagine him doing anything else, which is…typically not my thing, but nothing about Sir is similar to any of the Doms I’ve played with in the past—the biggest being that he’s younger than me. Twenty-eight to my forty. He mentioned his age in his bio on the BDSM site where we met. I wasn’t sure it would work, how I would feel about submitting to someone younger, but when he messaged, it had been a long time since I’d given in to this need, and everything he’d said or done had been exactly what I’d needed.
I thought it’d be a one-time thing—it usually is for me—but here we are, meeting a second time for him to control and fuck me.
My fingers tremble, frustration making the back of my neck prickle. I should have been here before him. I hate that he arrived first.
Sir is already out of his SUV by the time I get out, walking around my vehicle toward me.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I tell him, and he frowns.
“You’re not late. It’s two fifty-five. We said three. You’re all good.”
I don’t know him well—or at all, really—but from what I’ve seen, nothing seems to rattle him. It’s like everything just rolls off his shoulders, this lightness to him I’ve never had myself, and frankly, wouldn’t know what to do with.