Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
But his motives are wrong.
Not that I should judge. I never pursued law for philanthropic reasons.
“Carson.” With an icy tone, I pretend to read his name from my monitor, and he slowly stands up, still clutching the pen. “You will act as the defense attorney for James Rutherford. Your role is to prove that there is no clear evidence that your client is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.”
This time, the pen breaks in his hand, and I let my lips twitch in a smile as I call other students’ names on autopilot, assigning them as junior members of the defense team—all the idiot ones—and the smarter ones as jurors and witnesses.
“Your job is to scrutinize every piece of evidence, every testimony, and to come to your own verdict, just as you would in an actual courtroom. You’ll have a week for pretrial preparation. We’ll start with the opening statement next week.” I turn off the screen. “Class dismissed.”
I gather my belongings and exit the classroom before the students. Many of them fall into step on either side of me, particularly the prosecution team, asking follow-up questions about the assignment. The others are only using the assignment as an excuse to vie for my attention.
They’re barking up the wrong tree. One, I prefer women my age. Two, I’d never fuck a student.
Except for the one I catch a glimpse of in my peripheral vision who’s standing at the front of the class and watching me instead of listening to those surrounding him.
Though I don’t particularly want to fuck him.
I’m actually straight and have never found men attractive.
So how come the thought of filling Carson’s pretty face with tears as he chokes on my cock makes my dick twitch in its confinement?
Power.
Control.
Breaking someone into their subhuman form.
Those elements are clearly more important than actual sex or attraction to me.
Though I’ve never had an erection for a man I wanted to break. Hmm. What is it about Carson that’s…so alluringly titillating?
The tears streaming down his face when he was choking on my cock? The way he sucked me roughly, giving me much of the pain I was giving him?
I am into fucking mouths, that’s for sure, but most women are delicate, and I’ve always been careful not to take it too far, so I’ve never really fucked a throat that hard.
Never had vicious, violent lips trying to suck my cum dry.
And I, honest to God, didn’t give a fuck that it was a man’s lips. Maybe because it doesn’t matter whose lips?
No, that’s wrong. I was consciously aware of his male scent, his sharp jaw, and his ruthless big hands.
I knew he was different from the usual softness I’m used to, and I…didn’t hate it.
Some might say I enjoyed it way too much, to the point that my cock is twitching at the memories.
But I digress.
After I get rid of the clingy students, I finish my other classes for the day and head out.
I’ve opted for a full European life. No car or other means of transportation.
Brighton Island is small anyway, and I prefer to walk around in the UK’s depressing windy and rainy weather instead.
As if.
I’m mostly observing.
Just like the little pest who’s been tailing me.
Correction: a little monster.
Carson’s words about watching my back are actually a job he took upon himself. Literally.
For a week now, he’s been following me everywhere.
All the time.
Like a freak.
He’s even skipping some classes. I know because one of the other fool professors that he has in the palm of his hand has expressed concern about his absence.
“He’s such a bright student. It’s not like him to skip. I’m worried about him.”
You should be worried about your brain that he’d eat for breakfast if given the chance.
I walk into an organic food shop and skim through the freshly roasted coffee beans.
Carson does, in fact, make a decent stalker. He always keeps a safe distance, uses different cars, and even wears hats and sunglasses to cover his hair and face. He has a knack for making himself invisible when needed, and sometimes, it takes me a while to notice him.
Would give him four out of five stars. Knocking one star off for the unoriginal content.
“Hello there.” A teenager with orange hair and chipped black nail polish says in a singsong voice. “Need my help with anything at all?”
I’d hope not. I don’t expect someone like her to help me with my particular taste for coffee.
“Just looking around, thank you,” I say, browsing the bags and offering no smile. I don’t give a fuck how people perceive me.
I lost the ability to care about that a long time ago.
“That one is our bestseller.” She motions at a bag with a huge red tag that says ‘bestseller’ on top. Young people these days share one brain cell, I swear.
“Can I smell samples?”