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)
I’m deeply uncomfortable with this talk, but I still ask, “What does trial and error even mean?”
“A number of things. Like bottoming and hating it. Or topping and being ill at ease. Some people like switching it up, which means topping and bottoming. Some people hate those terms altogether. It depends on the person. You’re usually the top if you like fucking and being in control, though there are power bottoms who take control but don’t do the fucking. If you love being pounded or come by prostate fucking without dick stimulation, you’re usually a bottom.”
My ears heat. No way in fuck. “Who the fuck came up with these rules?”
“No one really. And there are no rules. Everyone is different. I’m speaking generally and in terms some might agree with yet others wouldn’t. Anyway, I’ll give you a free course on butt stuff. Lesson one, always have lube on you, like always. And prep yourself. Start with small butt plugs, then scale up. You’ll thank me later—”
“Okay, I’ve heard enough. Get the fuck out.” I push him out, then slam the door shut.
I bite on my thumb as I let out a long groan. There’s no way in fuck I’m gay, let alone the one being fucked.
I do the fucking. Next time I see Kayden, I’m taking the upper hand.
Not that I look forward to that.
Absolutely not.
11
GARETH
Two days later, I’m early for criminal law class.
Not because I want to test Niko’s theory about trial and error, but it’s more because I’m actually a good student. And I’m not allowing some immoral professor to tarnish my track record.
My eyes zero in on him as he walks into class. Everyone grows silent, almost reverent.
Professor Lockwood has built an impenetrable reputation in the couple of weeks he’s been teaching at TKU. Sort of a cult, really.
Girls visibly fan themselves when they see or pass him by—they love how he’s so mysterious and strict and just so hot—and even the guys respect him.
He’s annoying competition.
Though they’re right about the mystery factor. I’ve been thinking, and I believe maybe the reason he’s messing with my head—and, subsequently, my body—is because I can’t figure him out.
His actions don’t match his profile, so maybe when they do, I’ll lose interest. I always do.
His gaze flits in my direction as if he knows I’ve been thinking about him, and a small smile grazes his lips before it disappears.
Asshole loves getting on my last fucking nerve.
He also definitely knows he’s attractive and carries it well. Not attractive to me, but in general. From the girls’ point of view.
He always wears his black hair styled to perfection, a sleek, controlled look that highlights the strength of his forehead and draws attention to his thick, dark brows, framing his gray almond-shaped eyes with a predatory intensity.
The dark stubble along his jaw only serves to make it appear even sharper, adding an edge to his already striking features.
Navy slacks cling to his long, muscular legs, each step emphasizing their strength, while the light-blue shirt stretches across his chest and arms, taut over the solid muscle beneath in a perfect blend of elegance and raw power.
But I guess the most attractive thing about him, aside from his physique and face, is the confident way he carries himself.
The way he also hides his true nature.
No one would look at him and think he loves to fuck his students.
Wait.
Is he doing this to others?
That thought is disturbing, but I don’t focus on it as he addresses the class and says we’ll start with the opening statement for the trial case.
We shift into position, my classmates taking their notes and reading them one final time.
I carry my empty notebook just for show, then decide against it. I’m not going to hold back today at all.
Throughout the entire preparation, Kayden sits on the edge of his desk, his arms crossed. He has his sleeves rolled to his elbows now, exposing his muscular, veiny forearms, and I catch a glimpse of the girls filming him discreetly.
What an attention whore.
Seriously, is he trying to seduce the others?
Zara steps up on behalf of the prosecution. She’s black, tall, and possibly the best public speaker in class. Her posture is upright as she looks at her notes and speaks in a loud, clear voice. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, today you will hear the harrowing story of Rebecca Blake, a young woman whose life was violently interrupted by the actions of James Rutherford. On the night in question, Rebecca Blake was alone in a hotel room, far from the safety of her home, where she was drugged, sexually assaulted, and left in a state of unconsciousness. The defendant, James Rutherford, entered her room with the clear intent to harm, and that’s exactly what he did.
“You will hear from the attending doctor, who will confirm that Rebecca Blake’s injuries are consistent with sexual assault. Her body bore the physical evidence of violence, and the toxicology report will show that she was drugged, unable to defend herself or consent to any actions that night. Witnesses who were at the hotel that evening will testify to seeing Rutherford near Rebecca’s room, and we will present DNA evidence that links him directly to the crime. The victim’s confusion and memory gaps are not a defense for the accused’s actions, nor does it absolve him of responsibility for what he did to Rebecca that night. We will prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that James Rutherford is guilty of the assault on Rebecca Blake. The evidence is clear. The crime is undeniable. And we ask that you find him guilty.”