Chapter 9

I was close enough to catch Wyatt’s scent again, that clean, masculine mix that made my mouth water. If I moved any closer, I'd lose it and maybe reach out to him, touch the crisp edge of his shirt and feel the heat of his body under it.

“That's close enough.” I thought to myself, swallowing hard, my throat bobbing. My hands clenched at my sides to keep from myself fidgeting, but inside me, everything churned, my nerves, want and that electric pull drawing me in. Wyatt leaned back against the desk, his arms crossed over his chest, the fabric pulling tight across his pecs. He didn't say anything right away and just watched me, letting the silence stretch.

I shifted my weight, feeling the brush of my jeans against my growing hardness, praying he didn't notice. But god, I hoped he did and hoped this “word” he wanted to have with me would turn into something more, I hoped it would turn to the start of all those fantasies turning into real life, with his hands on me, rough and sure, stripping away the barriers of clothes we had on until it was just our skin on skin and our moans filling the empty room.

Wyatt stared at me for a few long seconds, his face blank leaving me no hint of what was going on in that head of his. Then his brows pulled down a little, like he was trying to puzzle me out and figure out what made me tick. But why? I had no clue. My stomach flipped just from that look, those blue eyes digging deep into mine, making me feel small and exposed right there in the empty classroom.

“Uhmm... I'm here, sir?” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I cringed inside. Sir? Really? I was such an idiot, always finding new ways to make a fool of myself around him. Heat rushed to my face again, my cheeks burning as I stood there with my heart pounding like a drum.

He didn't laugh or anything. He nodded once and slowly, like he was weighing my words. “I went over your research project. Let's say it was okay, but only to a point.”

Okay to a point? That stung a bit because it felt like a backhanded compliment but at least he remembered my project which meant something, right? That he took the time to look at my work, even if it wasn't perfect.

“Wasn't the topic on Graves' disease? The presentation, management, and prognosis?”

“Yes, that's it.”I said, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from adding “sir” again to the back of my sentence and I caught myself just in time, swallowing the word down. My mouth went dry, and I shifted my feet, feeling the cool air from the open window brush my skin.

“I saw you cited my colleague's work too…Professor Lockhart. He did some real research on it. It was smart of you to involve it in your project.”

Butterflies exploded in my gut when Wyatt said his name. Bryce. God, just hearing it from Wyatt's lips made my mind spin to all the wrong places. “Yeah... it was great. I enjoyed reading it.” I replied, keeping my voice steady.

Liar, a voice in my head mocked me. Did I enjoy the research, or the way I twisted it in my head, picturing Bryce's strong hands turning pages, his body close as he explained it all? In my journal, he wasn't just a professor explaining his research to me, he was part of the fantasy, fucking me alongside Wyatt, their cocks hard and demanding.

I shoved the thought away, focusing on Wyatt's face. He leaned forward a bit, his white shirt pulling tight across his chest. “You turned it in late, and Lucas mentioned this morning you were the last one again to submit the assignment I gave out to you days ago, yesterday.”

My face heated up more. Lucas, that ass-kisser, always running his mouth to the profs. Wyatt wasn’t even in his office when I submitted my work. He wouldn’t have known that I submitted late so why on earth did Lucas have to tell him?

“Now tell me, Jonathan. Do you love pain?”

“What..?” I stepped back, the words hitting me like a punch. Did he really just ask that? My ears rang, and I blinked, trying to process what I had just heard. Love pain? From him? It sent a weird thrill through me, dark and twisted, making my cock twitch despite the fear.

Before I could open my mouth to ask what he meant or even imagine anything, he continued talking, his voice dropping low.

“Would you love to feel the pain that comes with having low marks? The kind that could make you retake my class, drag you down so bad you might never pass it again?”

He sneered, his hands gripping his laptop bag so tight that his knuckles went white. I didn't need to look up to know he was pissed at me and yeah, I hated Lucas for stirring this shit up.

I took a deep breath, my head still down, staring at the floor. “No.” I muttered, my voice low.

But that wasn't enough for him. He wasn't done talking. “I hope this is the last time we have this talk, Wright.” He spat my last name like it tasted bad in his mouth, then brushed past me, his shoulder slamming into mine hard enough to jolt me. The door clicked shut behind him, and all the tension I'd been holding rushed out, leaving me shaky and drained.

The thing is, I'm a good student and always have been since starting med school. I've never struggled academically and never had to retake a course. My assignments were always submitted on time, every time, my essays were always on point and enjoyable when read, even my clerking of patients was among the best in the class.

But Wyatt's class? That's where it all falls apart and where I find it convenient to just mess up. I obsess over every word in my assignments and essays, reading it a hundred times, spotting flaws that aren't even there. One bad paragraph, and I scrap the whole thing, starting over from scratch. It's exhausting, this need of mine to be perfect for him.

I crave his approval every time even though he's never given it, well, not in real life but in my journal, though? It's different there, he praises me, his voice rough as he tells me how good I am, right before he bends me over and makes me scream.

Thinking about that brought a small smile to my lips as I headed out of the class.

By the time I hopped on the bus and got back to my dorm, that question Wyatt asked me wouldn't leave me alone.

“Do you love pain?” It looped over and over in my head, stirring something deep in me and making my body ache in ways that had nothing to do with school. My cock hardened just from the memory of his sneer, the way his shoulder hit mine roughly.

I needed to get out what I was feeling in my head and pour it into my journal. I needed to change his words into something filthy, into something that would make me cum hard tonight.