I wake up to the noise of intense talking and what sounds like breakfast being cooked. Nicole isn't in bed, and I recognise that deep, delectable voice as belonging to James.

"I'm not trying to smoother you," he insists.

I find them both in the kitchen, Nicole sat at the table; James towering over her.

"I know you're not tying to," she replies. "But you are!"

I quietly make my way towards the kettle, in no position to pry. Unfortunately, Nicole notices me and sees my presence as a chance to manipulate the situation into getting her own way.

"Sloan! Tell my brother I'm perfectly capable of going to a doctor's appointment on my own."

James spins around to face me, still gorgeous in yesterday's clothes.

"Umm—"

This is the exact predicament I was trying to avoid. On one hand, I've got Nicole who—as of last night—is my official BFF. On the other, I have my English professor who I'm involved with in ways that stretch beyond a student/ teacher relationship. Pair that with the look of desperation on his face, and I'm torn.

"Actually, I was hoping I could come," I say.

Both remain silent.

"I need to get some bits in town and afterwards, I thought we could get our nails done?"

Nicole narrows her eyes in suspicion. "You wanna get your nails done?"

"Sure! Why not?"

She laughs, seeing my excuse for exactly what it is.

A fucking lie!

"Fine. Sloan will accompany me to the doctors. Happy now?"

She directs her question at James.

"Ecstatic," he replies, giving just as good as he gets.

He shoots me a subtle smile as a way of thanks, and I rejoice in my own success at deflecting the tension. He's only worried, but I know from my own experience with Lara that concern is not always welcomed. In the past, I've also annoyed her with my tendency to worry.

"What colour are you thinking for your nails, Sloan?" asks Nicole, humouring me.

"I dunno? Red?"

I flick the switch on the kettle, in need of my morning coffee.

"Ohhh, sexy! I bet your friend will love it."

"What friend?" asks James, feigning indifference.

"Her boyfriend!"

"You have a boyfriend?"

"No."

Nicole laughs, facing her brother. "I caught them having phone sex the other day."

I slam my mug down and face her. "Nic!"

"What?"

I gesture to James. "Are you forgetting he's my professor?"

Her amusement only increases and—going against my better judgement—I laugh too.

"Maybe don't detail my sex life to him," I say.

"Jamie doesn't care! Do you, Jamie?"

He smirks. "Nope."

I return my attention to my coffee, figuring it's best I distract myself.

"So—umm—" begins Nicole, turning awkward suddenly. "Have you told Freddie about yesterday?"

James visibly stiffens. "Not yet."

"Are you going to?"

"He needs to know, Nikki."

"I know," she sighs. "I just hate how judgemental he gets."

"He only cares."

"Oh, please! Freddie only cares about himself."

"Nic!" he warns.

"It's true!"

"It's not true and you know it," he insists, keeping his voice calm despite balling his hands into fists.

Nicole shrugs, leaving her coffee practically untouched. "I don't understand why you defend him so much."

"He's my brother."

"So? He's mine too."

I feel like an intruder on their conversation but can't quite bring myself to leave. James and Nicole remain a mystery, and any insight into their life is interesting to me.

"In that case, you tell him," he remarks.

Nicole falters. "No way!"

"Why not, Miss. Independent?" he teases, coming up behind her to poke her in the ribs.

She laughs the minute his fingers make contact.

"You tell him," she wheezes, breathless from being tickled. "You're better with words."

I laugh, amused that she's using his skill and passion for English Literature to get her own way.

"That better be a laugh of agreement, Sloan Jackson!" he warns, smirking.

I nod, obediently. "Of course. Although—personally—I think I'm better."

He faces Nicole again, eyes full of mischief. "Did she just—"

Nicole nods.

"That's it!"

He turns on me, tickling my waist in a way that makes keeping a straight face impossible. It both hurts and delights and before long, I'm begging him for mercy. His back is pressed to my front and his arms are wrapped tightly around my shoulders. Had I not been pleading for my life; I might've enjoyed the moment.

"PLEASE!"

"Tell me I'm the best!"

"YOU'RE THE BEST!" I relent, desperate.

His fingers stop their attack and for a moment, we stay locked in position. Like magnets, we can't quite seem to break away. His fingers lightly press into my hips, and I gasp as they slowly descend to my ass. Thankfully, Nicole doesn't notice. She's too busy washing dishes and smiling at the theatrics taking place in her kitchen.

"Good girl," he whispers, grazing my earlobe with his teeth.

The action sends shivers down my spine, and I pull away before I do or say something stupid.

"What time is your appointment?" I ask, feeling flustered.

James smirks.

"Half eleven."

"I better get dressed," I announce, taking my coffee to go. "See you later, James."

"Bye."

I enter my bedroom and close the door, immediately surrounded by his intoxicating smell. I smile as I make my way over to my bed, appreciating his attempts at making it the way I like. The cushions are organised all wrong and he's positioned my throw in a way I never would—but still—he's tried, and that's what counts.

That's the James I'm attracted to.

The James that cares.

****

Having spent the entire day with Nicole, I'm now the proud owner of peach nails, caramel highlights and a Brazilian. After we sat down with her doctor to discuss her monthly meal plan, she got a phone call from someone in her class about a two-hour study session. We agreed it would be good for her to tag along and as a reward, we're going to watch a film later.

Not one to miss an opportunity, I took myself to the library and did some research for my up-and-coming thesis discussion. I'm still no further forward with what I actually want to write my dissertation on and live in the hope that if I come to the library enough times, I'll be hit with inspiration soon.

That's the plan, anyway!

I pack away my textbooks and laptop, having deemed my one hour enough torture for one day. I momentarily contemplate doing more work on my novel but decide against it. I'm not in the right frame of mind to connect with my characters, and—honestly—I don't know if I ever will be. James is right. I'm all over the place. I have no idea what genre I'm passionate about and I'm so indecisive it hurts. What once excited me now feels like a huge block in my personal development. If only finding inspiration was as easy as getting my nails done?

I head towards the exit and walk by James' office, noticing the lights are on. My stomach flips as a thrill creeps its way up my spine. I haven't seen him since this morning, and the fact he's mere feet away is too tempting a thought to just carry on. Before I can stop myself, I'm heading towards the familiar waiting area, heart thumping. I knock on the door and—without waiting for a response—reveal myself.

"Hey."

James looks up from his laptop screen, glasses on, hair a beautiful mess.

"Sloan."

He looks stressed to fuck.

"Your hair looks nice."

Despite being highly stressed, he still notices.

"Thanks. I saw your lights were on. You're working late," I state, unable to hide the concern in my voice.

"I like to distract myself when I'm feeling anxious," he admits, rubbing at his eyes.

Eyes that are—for obvious reasons—exhausted.

"Today went well," I offer, fully entering his office and closing the door.

I drop my laptop bag and textbooks, unbothered by the ungraceful thump they make.

"Does that help?"

He smiles. "Nope. Still stressed!"

I turn to face his door briefly, suddenly faced with a decision. What I'm about to do has the potential to go verywrong, but I feel the need to try within my every fibre.

"Let me help with that," I whisper, twisting the lock.

The sound echos around his office and when I finally face him, he's showcasing a range of emotions. Curiosity, excitement, wonder.

"How?" he asks.

I slowly walk towards him, eyes never leaving his. It's pitch-black outside and the twinkling city below is the perfect view. Clouded with darkness and beautiful to look at, it reminds me of James. He has demons beyond Nicole. I can sense it. Demons I want to break down tonight. Even if only temporarily.

"Just relax," I encourage, easing my way onto his lap.

He inhales as I settle myself into a straddling position. His hands instinctively go to my hips, and I make it my mission to gently run my palms along his beautiful, broad chest. He's warm to the touch and smells like lemongrass and sandalwood. It's the most intoxicating combination of smells and I absolutely can see myself becoming addicted to it.

"Practice restraint, James," I say, using his own words against him. "As long as we don't kiss, we're not doing anything wrong."

With that said, I slowly unbutton his shirt, paying special attention to the silk material against my fingertips. His gaze follows my every movement, fuelled by fire. He doesn't say anything, but I can tell he approves by the way his nails are digging into my flesh. It's a brilliant sensation, made better by the sight of his naked chest before me. Eventually, I reach the last button and push the material aside, taking in the gloriousness of a half naked James. He has the most defined body ever, dipping and curving in all the right places. His skin is sun-kissed with tan I can only assume he accumulated this summer and towards the bottom of his stomach lies a trail of dark hair. The first and only thought that comes to mind is licking it. Instead, I decide to savour the moment and focus my attention on the one thing that's been bugging me since seeing it for the first time. His tattoo. I trace the outline with my thumb and inch closer, in need of a better look.

"I can resist everything except temptation."

"Oscar Wilde," I gasp, looking deep into his eyes.

He smiles.

"I like it," I inform, leaning forward to kiss it. "I like this, too,"

I avert my attention to his nipple piercing and bite where I know his flesh is most sensitive. He squirms in his seat and groans through the pleasure. I desperately want to ask him what the thought process behind getting his nipple pierced was, but figure now it not the right time.

"Sloan—" He momentarily halts my advances by grasping my chin. "Once we do this, there's no going back."

He's offering me an out.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"I'm sure," I reply.

I shoot him my filthiest smirk and—with as much grace as a fucking elephant—slide from his lap. I part his legs and position myself in between them, on my knees.

"Oh, fuck!" he growls, catching on to my intentions.

I reach for his belt and undo each notch, painfully slow. I purposely drag my fingers along the waistband of his boxers and take great satisfaction from the way his body tenses. I free him of his restraints and gasp at the sheer sight of his erection. So thick and smooth, I want nothing more than to taste him.

"Sloan!"

I take hold of him in my hands and begin to stroke his length. His encouragement is immediate, and I watch him as he attempts to disregard his glasses.

"NO! Leave them on," I insist, squeezing a little harder.

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, smirking. "Fan of the glasses, are we?"

"Definitely."

He leaves the frames on and settles back into his chair, lifting his hips as a way of pulling his trousers further down. Then, with a mischievous smirk, he wraps his hand around mine and starts fucking himself in front of me.

"I want this image in my mind forever," he declares, biting his lip.

Our pace quickens.

"I have a better image for you," I inform, purposely licking my lips.

He lets go of his tight hold and instead, uses his hand to pull on my hair.

"Show me!"

I lower my head towards his greedy cock and slowly run my tongue along the tip. He moans the second I make contact and tightens his grip on my ponytail. Again, I'm shocked by how much I seem to enjoy being handled with such vigour. It's both thrilling and painful. And I fucking love it.

"Sloan!"

I open my mouth and suck, enjoying his salty musk. His moans and gasps are a delicious combination of sexual noises I never want to stop hearing. The fact I'm the one making him make them turns me on and before long, I'm just as desperate as he is. The more he enjoys it, the wetter I get.

"Sloan—baby—you're too good at this."

I smile in response and carefully graze my teeth along his shaft. It sends him wild and—on their own accord—his hips thrust forward.

"Fuckkkkk!"

I continue my routine which consists mostly of sucks and nibbles, though occasionally I throw in a sensual lick for good measure. He's frantic by the time I've established my pace and when he starts chanting my name under his breath, I almost lose it. He's worshipping my existence and I'm floating because of it. In the past, performing oral has been a one-sided act. Selfish. James—however—is making me his superior. His centre of attention.

"Baby, I'm close!"

I love it when he calls me that.

"Sloan!" he warns.

I fight back against his resistance and relax my throat. He needs to understand that I want everything he has to offer. This is the most aroused I've been during a sexual act, and I'm desperate to get my fill of him.

"Oh, fuck!"

I intentionally look up, wanting to experience his high with him. By now, my panties are dripping and I'm moaning around my mouthful. His gaze meets mine and with an animalistic grunt, his climax coats my tongue. I love his taste. His sounds. His enjoyment. He maintains eye contact the entire time he orgasms and tightens his hold on my ponytail. Growls of pleasure soon turn to sighs of contentment and in one swift movement, he has me in his arms and settled back onto his lap. He uses his thumb to trace the outline of my lips, now plump from our interaction.

"Consider me relaxed," he whispers.

I smirk, satisfied I've accomplished my mission. "Glad I could help."

I stare into his midnight eyes, getting lost in their depth for a moment. His touch has now moved to my jaw, and just when he opens his mouth to say something, the door handle to his office jiggles.

"James? Are you in there?"

"Thank fuck you locked the door," he remarks.

I laugh as I come to a standing position, helping him redress. I tackle his shirt buttons as he makes progress on his belt.

"Just a minute, Martin!"

In no time, he's put back together—barely resembling a man high from a blow job. I grab my laptop bag and textbooks as he approaches the door, firing one last cheeky smirk over my shoulder.

"Sometimes, it just needs a good...shove!"

James mimics struggling with the door and lets Martin in a second later.

"Ahh—sorry! I didn't realise you had a student with you."

"It's fine," replies James. "Sloan and I were just finishing up."

I nod, gesturing towards my packed laptop bag.

"We'll continue this later," he says, sending me a clear message. "Only, next time, I'll lead the discussion."

Holy fuck!

"Sounds good," I say, rather taking to the idea.

I mumble my goodbyes and exit the building, stepping out into the cool night air. My reality doesn't feel real. It's distorted in the most amazing way possible. In what world do I—Sloan Jackson—do reckless shit like this? If only Lara knew just how social I was becoming. She'd have a heart attack and a well-intended lecture at the ready, no doubt. But I won't tell her. I won't tell anyone. Not because what we're doing is considered unethical. But because it's far more exciting sneaking around with the fear of being caught.

Ping!

I jump at the sound of an incoming text message.

James:
I meant what I said.
Next time, I'm in charge.

Sloan:
Can't wait ;)

✨✨✨✨

Hello, lovely!

How are you?

Restock your holy water... you're going to need it for the next chapter too ;)

I have such a fun chapter planned and it involves missing panties and a certain note.

And don't forget to stalk me!