Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
We hadn't had many opportunities to go out and see more of Paris together, but we'd sure as fuck taken advantage of our bed. Tonight, it looked like we'd get use of the desk.
After drying off, I put on the pants Sophie had bought me for the party in LA. I zipped up carefully and then buttoned my shirt. I tucked it in, went on with the tie, then put on my shoes. That'd do.
Time to see what homework I supposedly gave Julian.
I strode out of the bathroom with purpose, wanting him to get the full experience. No pussy-ass teacher here. I could be a strict motherfucker when the situation called for it.
Julian lost composure for a beat as he spotted me. Parted lips, eyes widening, and then a whispered curse as he dropped his gaze and became the student he wanted to be for tonight.
"All right, let's see what you've got, Mr. Hartley." I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and came to his side of the desk. "You realize you have to impress me if you want me to change your grade, yes?"
"I, uh…yes. Um." He side-eyed me as I leaned back against the desk right next to him.
There was no way I'd let him get off with a cliché "I'll do whatever you want if you give me an A" fantasy. The power should be in the teacher's hands, yeah? Not the fucking student.
"They're, um, terms I heard at work." He tapped a finger on the piece of paper. "Instead of asking you what they mean, I researched and looked them up myself. But I didn’t finish all of them."
I withheld a smile. It did things to me, that he was serious about learning the language we spoke on set. He could've gone with anything for this. Even though we'd joked about it, me giving him homework, it didn’t really matter until now when I saw he actually meant it.
"I thought maybe you could test me?" he asked.
"Fair enough." I pushed off the desk and leaned over him a bit to see what he'd scribbled down. His breathing quickened, and I took longer than necessary to read his list. It was only the terms, not the meanings, so this should be fun. "Okay, start with the first one. Explain who the gaffer is."
*
"Excellent." I massaged his shoulders slowly, keeping him flustered. He was good, though. He'd done a great job at memorizing a shitload of terms, and we were already halfway down the list. "And the next one. If a director says broom it, what does he mean?"
Julian stuttered on a breath as I subtly pressed my erection against his back.
"It-It means he wants it—something removed from the set."
He was catching on. He'd noticed I rewarded correct answers with not-so-accidental touches. As for incorrect answers… I got stricter. I was catching on too, and it was clear he enjoyed a firm fucking hand.
"Very good." I stifled a groan as I eased away to give my cock a solid squeeze. If I didn’t get out of these pants soon, I'd go postal. "If you know the next one, I'll be impressed."
"Gone with the Wind in the morning, Dukes of Hazzard after lunch," was the saying. Tennyson had quietly used the phrase on me last week as a reminder, and Julian must've overheard it.
"I know it, I know it," he promised. "Um. Fuck—"
"Watch your mouth." I grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back. He gasped, eyes growing large. "You do not curse in my office."
"Yes, sir."
I nodded and let go, and he struggled to remember the task at hand.
"The answer, Mr. Hartley. Don’t waste my time."
"I'm sorry, I don’t remember," he said quickly, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Only that it was something about not spending too much time on…something…"
"I need more than that." I walked over to the seating area and grabbed the leather belt I'd worn all day. "If you know anything about film, it's self-explanatory."
The patronizing tone was evidently effective. It turned me on beyond belief to see him so worked up. It was as if he got really lost in the moment, and I liked it more than I could say. Fuck, imagine all the kinky fun we could have.
I returned to the desk, the belt in a firm grip, and I told him to stand up and put his hands on the tabletop.
"I don't have all day, little boy," I growled.
"Oh, fuck." He sucked in a breath and scrambled to obey me.
When I had him where I wanted him, I took a step back to watch him from behind. I stroked my cock through my pants, all the possibilities of where to take it from here rushing through my head.
"Push down your pants," I ordered.
"Um, but, sir—"
"Do it," I snapped. "I thought you came prepared, but you don't seem to know very much."