Professor’s Rule 01 - Giving an Inch Read Online Free PDF Page A

enough.
    Well, I’ll give you as many as you need to make up for lost time. Later. But first, call your Satish back. Seduce him into the room.
    Ok. I’ll try.
    You’ll do more than try. You’ll succeed. I know you will, my sweet. I believe in you. Call me before he gets here, and leave the phone on. I want to hear you proposition him. You can hang up after that. No need to compromise the lad’s privacy, after all.
    Yes, Professor.
    Strangely calm, James obeyed.
    Once you’ve ensnared him, get on your knees and suck his cock. He’s not to get you off. You’re not to touch yourself. You’re saving yourself for me now. Once I’ve had you for myself, perhaps I’ll let other men pleasure you again.
    A spark of rebellion fired and then faded at that, gone before James had an opportunity to assess why he’d felt it in the first place. He’d think about it later.
    The “perhaps” was mostly for show, anyway. Carson would most definitely let James get off with other guys; after all, watching him with another man, even just knowing he was with another man—especially if he was dictating the terms of the encounter, like now—never failed to get the Professor off.
    Set up according to Carson’s instructions, James dialed the phone. He didn’t say a word, though. He wasn’t ready to hear Carson’s voice again. He’d fall apart entirely. Then he pushed the call button on the changeroom wall.
    Satish was there in record time. His knuckles rapped on the door politely. “Need a size?” he asked.
    “Not exactly,” James said, and was surprised by how rough and pitchy his voice was. He unlatched the door. “Come in? Please?”
    Just before the door opened, he pulled his underwear back up; probably not a good idea to flash the guy, just in case.
    “Um, you didn’t like any of the slacks?” Satish asked, giving him an almost furtive once-over, clearly unsure whether or not he was crossing the line.
    Oh. Shit. James wasn’t wearing any. He was standing here in his fucking underwear and—
    Just go with it.
    James swallowed hard. Dropped his voice to a whisper, or as close to one as he could manage and still allow Carson to hear him. “I didn’t invite you in here because of the slacks. I mean, if . . .”
    “A new shirt then, maybe? Or a vest? I found another style in your size if you’d like to try it. Or if you’re really not keen on the vest, I found a blazer that might look sharp on you.”
    Wow. Had he totally misread Satish earlier, or was Satish being shy or playing dumb now? He’d thought his hint was rather blatant. Maybe his aim was off.
    God, why was this so fucking hard ? He was always so confident in his desirability, his ability to seduce, when Carson was around. But without Carson, it was back to the same flailing as always, trying to find the words when it was so much easier to type 25/5’3”/130lbs/uncut/bottom and send a picture of himself fresh out of the shower and wait for a reply.
    “I actually don’t need help with clothes at all.”
    That seemed to work as well as any string of text gibberish. Satish’s pupils dilated, black overtaking rich, deep brown and darkening his gaze.
    Fuck. He was gorgeous. James would have wanted this without Carson, definitely. But Carson’s involvement certainly made it, if not sweeter, then much more volatile.
    “Come in?” he asked, stepping back, and Satish tossed a look over his shoulder and followed.
    “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said, but he locked the door behind him anyway. “You’re lucky my boss knows you need a lot of help, because otherwise this would look seriously suspicious. In fact, it probably still looks seriously suspicious.”
    “I don’t want you to lose your job.” Even as he said it, James reached out, wanting to touch that curly black hair. A ringlet fell over Satish’s ear, and James’s finger slipped into it like it was a wedding band. So soft. It fit him perfectly.
    “I appreciate that,” Satish