Tenure

44. Kiernan

44

Kiernan

I’m blushing as I pull my pants back on, crotch soaked, ass full of cum and a plug. But I feel . . . sated.

Happy.

James looks like a delighted little puppy, eyes big and smile wide as he yanks his jeans back up his thighs.

“God I made a mess . . .” I mutter, staring at the spray on the floor. I don’t even really know what it is, my body has never done that before, but it felt fucking euphoric , and I really, really want him to make me do it again.

He pulls a mop out of the mop bucket and runs it over the floor real quick before chucking it back into the yellow container and I laugh. He smiles at me, looking very pleased with himself.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

I just fidget and flush, and he grins like an idiot as he pushes the door open, and we head out into the hall.

“I can’t believe you made me come in front of all your students . . .” I say, staring down at my feet, my stomach squishing with embarrassment now that we’re out in the brightly lit hallway.

“You made yourself come, baby,” he says, walking close by my side. I can tell he’s itching to touch me, take my hand or touch my back, but he keeps his hands to himself, just brushing my arm with his every few steps, my breath hitching every time, the plug in my asshole keeping me from fully concentrating on where we’re going.

We make it back to his car, and he opens the passenger side door for me like a gentleman, watching me squirm as I take a seat and leaning over to buckle up my seatbelt for me, stealing a quick kiss while he does it.

This is insane. I have no idea how we got here, but it’s fucking insane. He’s fucked every hole I have but my damn nostrils, kept me overnight at his apartment twice, outed us to a colleague, and we’ve both said I love you all in the span of a couple of weeks.

“There’s no way this is sustainable,” I say as he gets in on his side. “There’s no way we can keep this up. Relationships aren’t like this.”

“No, they’re not. Which is why it’ll work.”

“James. There’s no way you can keep me full of come round the clock. At some point we are going to need to be”—I struggle to find the right word—“boring.”

“You could never be boring, baby,” he says, not really paying attention as he puts his arm on the back of my seat, turning around to check behind him as he backs slowly out of the parking space.

“I think we should talk about what an actual relationship is going to look like beyond my ass dripping with your cum, James.”

“Whatever you want,” he says, and I roll my eyes.

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

He turns to shift the car out of reverse when—

SCREEEEEEEEECH! The car is jolted, hard, my chest flying against the seatbelt which locks up tight, keeping me in place.

“What the FUCK?!” I shout, adrenaline spiking hard.

“Are you fucking KIDDING ME?!” James is shouting. A crappy, beat up looking Honda Civic has just reversed out of its spot full speed without looking and smacked into the rear passenger side of the car.

“Are you okay, Kiernan?” he asks me frantically.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I take a deep breath. It wasn’t a crazy hard impact, not even enough for the air bags to go off, but he leans in close to check me over, check my side of the car, check where the seatbelt crushed my airway for a hot minute . . .

“I’m really fine,” I say firmly. “You’ve cut off more air supply than that did.”

His lips twitch. “This isn’t funny.”

“Take your frustration out on whoever just hit your car. I’m too sore for a hate fuck today.”

He turns his attention to the civic, the passenger door of the car opening and someone ambling out.

Probably still drunk from last night. Good job.

“Oh for fuck sake,” James snaps. “It’s a fucking student. Goddammit, Graham . . .”

As James gets out of the car and slams the door, alarm bells go off in my ether. Graham . . . Fuck . . .

I hear the muffled sounds of James’ bossy, short-tempered voice half-yelling at someone and almost feel bad. But as I slowly turn around to look out the back, my palms instantly break into a sweat.

Graham. Fucking asshole Cheetos tongue Graham . I stare straight ahead, hyperventilating a little. Nothing happened. You’re fine, Kiernan. Nothing happened and you’re perfectly okay. He left you alone. He was just being a drunk dick.

Except he didn’t leave me alone. He only left because I was on the phone, because I managed to answer my phone. James’ phone.

I hear James reaming Graham out but can’t concentrate on the words. Eventually it gets quiet, and I see him walk around the front of the car and open my door.

“I need you to get out for a minute, Kiernan,” he says gently.

I shake my head. “I’d rather stay here.”

He sighs. “Just for a minute.”

But I don’t move, staring at my thighs, and I can see him frown out of my peripheral vision.

“Are you hurt?” His voice is worried. “What’s wrong?” He squats down to get a better look at me, reaching up with his hand and touching my temple, my cheek, my shoulder, feeling all over for signs of injury.

“I just want to stay in the car.”

He looks really worried and opens his mouth to speak, but Graham interrupts. “Kiernan?”

He has wandered over to us, bags under his eyes from an obviously heavy night of drinking, worry written all over his face as he glances at the rear end of the car.

I tense up at the sound of his voice, and James’ eyes narrow, sharp gaze taking in my fidgety hands, and I watch his entire body stiffen, a black cloud passing over his face and parking itself there.

He stands up slowly and my heart starts to thunder, lodged in my throat, as he turns to face Graham.

“You said fucking bitch ,” he says, his voice deathly quiet.

“What? I’m really sorry, Professor, I’ll pay for the—”

“Kiernan. You called her a fucking bitch. ”

“What? What are you talking about!”

“At the party. On Bleeker. She picked up the phone, and you called her a fucking bitch.”

His voice is steady. Sharp as razors. I brave turning my head to look at them and see all of the blood drain out of Graham’s face.

“She was practically riding my cock in front of the whole room and then she—”

Blood spatters everywhere as James’ fist connects makes his nose two-dimensional with a sickening crunch. I wince as Graham stumbles backwards into his car.

“What the FUCK!” he shrieks, touching his face and looking down at his blood-soaked hand. “Are you fucking crazy? She—”

Graham’s head snaps back—again—as James plants one right in his fucking mouth, his back landing flat across the trunk of his car.

I scramble out of the door wishing—for the first time today—that I didn’t have a toy in my ass just as James pulls his arm back again. I catch his elbow, and he stops, panting, shaking with rage.

“It’s not worth it,” I say.

James turns to me, eyes full of pure rage.

“Yes. It is.”

I squeeze his arm a little harder, genuinely touched. Who did this to you . . . It echoes in my mind, plays on a loop at night when I’m not thinking about his cock splitting me open or trying to actually study.

Graham spits and there’s a funny little tinkling noise. We both look over at him, and he’s spit a tooth out onto the concrete parking garage floor.

“He’s had enough,” I say quietly.

James cracks his knuckles. “I’m going to fucking choke him to death.”

I smile warmly at him, strings of blood dripping from Graham’s mouth as he stares at us in a panic, clearly dazed—probably concussed—with fear in his eyes.

“There’s only one person you’ll be choking today,” I say.

His eyes flare, but I can feel that he’s torn. That he’d very much like to stay and beat this piece of shit into pulp.

I lean into his ear, my palm on his abs, and whisper to him. “Please, daddy. Take me home and choke me.”

He closes his eyes, body shuddering, collecting himself a little— I think.

He puts his hand on my back and pushes me towards the car. I hesitate, but he looks me in the eye and seems to have rediscovered rational thought because he nods.

“Get in the car. We’ll leave in a minute.”

I get in and put my seatbelt on right away, and he smiles down affectionately at me before turning back to Graham.

“You’ll be paying for this in cash. I’ll email you the quote,” he says in a casual voice. “And if you ever so much as bat an eyelash at Kiernan again, I will remove your skin with my letter opener and use it as a toilet seat cover. Do you understand me?”

“Professor, I—”

James steps into his space and grabs him by the throat, lifting him right off the trunk of the car.

“I said do you understand me?”

Graham nods and James drops him, making his way back to the driver’s side and getting in, slamming the door, hard.

“James?”

“What.”

“I was being serious. You’ve made me jealous.”

He turns to look at me. “Jealous?”

I place my hand on my neck.

“I don’t want you to choke anyone but me.”