Sinclair
To say the professor was relentless was an understatement. They, the students, became slaves of the subject.
And he was taking no prisoner. One only had two options. Passed or failed.He was a freaking slave driver.
And to think Sinclair loved literature. All along she thought it was the easiest of amongst her major subjects but it was not.
The research, the debate, and the dissection of each piece were mind-boggling. On top of that, she had to make a thesis with one old poem, and from there a short story with a minimum of seventy thousand words.
Basically, a novel. Who in their right mind would do that?Him.
Her professor.
-Wait? What?-
Where did that thought come from? Well, she didn't mean it like that. She meant in a purely professional way.
This conversation with herself was getting old.
And he was looking at her again. Not in a perverted way. Nope. Not like that. Like he was thinking of something to say. And she was the dictionary.
"What you do think of Charlotte Brontë, Ms. Yuan?" Christ! Can't he call someone else?
The spice girls were already tripping at her. They saw her as a teacher's pet and just yesterday that Sandy girl cornered her in the bathroom to splash water on her. Typical, cliche bullies.
Well, in retaliation, she dumped her OJ on the bitch's expensive top. So, they were even. For now. She mentally smirked.
What? She knew how to fight when cornered.
He cleared his throat to gain her attention. She had zoomed out once more. Her cheeks redden. What to say?
"I think Charlotte Bronte based her poems and novels on how she and her sisters survived adulthood. The way she spun her works that have combined moral realism with gothic views was a reflection of how they grew up. Poor but with morals. A good example of that is Jane Eyre written in 1847. Sir." She licked her dry lips nervously. His eyes pierced her even more. She tried to suppress her shivers.
Hoping it was the assessment he was looking for, she waited.
Their discussion centered on famous novelists and authors. Today was no exception.
Uncomfortable from his serious scrutiny, she looked away. Embarrassed all of a sudden.
He nodded and moved back to his generic classroom table.
"Great, Ms. Yuan. Before we go -- I know all of you are excited, frat party and all that -- please find time to read Shirley this weekend. Exams on Monday." Everyone groaned from the announcement. It was not surprising to her anymore. They had been doing this for a month now. Every Monday was exam day. Yehey! -Sarcasm once more.-
"You're dismissed. I was a frat boy once so I will be kind to you on a Friday night. Ms. Yuan get your paper before you go."
No! She didn't want to be near him. He smelled so good, she will have nightmares later. -Really, Sin. Nightmare?-
-Okay. Wet dreams. Happy?-
With small timid steps, she approached his table. People were filing out of the room. The two of them were the only ones left behind.
He looked up at her. Waiting. His dark brown depths were serious yet kind.
She glanced at the paper he was holding. Damn! She got an A+.
"I like how you interpreted To Celia. Just like what I did back in college." He murmured. She shuffled on her feet. Eyes cast down. She blushed at the compliment. Uncomfortable with his undisguised appreciation. To be compared to his accomplishments was bliss. He was an expert.
"Thanks...um...professor." Does she go now? With slightly trembling fingers, she retrieved her paper from his outstretched hand but he held on to it.
"Are you going to parties tonight?" Stunned, she met his eyes. Confused. Huh? Why question her that? Didn't he know she was an outcast and therefore was not invited to any of the parties her peers were enjoying every weekend? Not that she would go.
She shook her head instead of voicing her thoughts.
"No plans?" His voice grew deeper. As if he wanted to tell her not to attend college parties. She never did and she didn't plan to.
"Umm, I have work, sir. Tonight and weekends." Why was she telling him this?
-Can I go now, please?-
"Hmmm. Okay. You take care, Sinclair. See you soon." God! She had to go or she would surely fall at his feet. She nodded her head.
Without saying goodbye, she almost ran out of the classroom in her haste to be as far from temptation as possible.
Only then she realized she doesn't have the paper in her hands.
-This is bad. Really, really bad.-
***
Determined to forget a certain someone with dark eyes and handsome body and even a marvelous brain, she did an impromptu general cleaning.
She knew her old house in Rose Hill was beyond hope. The roof was leaking and she had to climb on it to fix it several times. It will be okay for a while. But it will only last for a month or two.
The carpets were worn out. Though always freshly scrubbed and cleaned. She only had one sofa, one old rocking chair, and a side table. No tv. Can't afford that nor cable. No phone. Just her old cell phone.
Old appliances and old kitchen table, again with two working chairs.
Sometimes, she had to bathe in cold water since she would run out of gas from time to time before the pay date. So the heater wouldn't work.
Her body had gotten used to everything. She even budgeted her food. Meals will only be twice a day with minimal snacks in between.
That's why she looked like a stick. A pale undernourished babe.
Who would want someone like her? Certainly, not the professor. -My professor.-
Shit! There it was again. A possessive form of the noun.
Scrubbing the pans vigorously, dispelling the thumping in her heart, she kept analyzing her preference for a certain someone. -Her professor.-
Not going there. Nope. Not her heart.
-You have a crush on him.-
She doesn't. Someone like him had girlfriends left and right. She can bet her meager savings on that.
And he would never be interested in her even if she stood naked in front of him.
Which will never happen. He will puke in disgust if he saw her like that.
Deep in thought, she almost jumped out of her skin when someone rapped his knuckles on her door.
Who could that be? It's 8 p.m.
A delivery guy? She didn't order anything.
Running to the front door, she opened it a few inches and peeked.
"Hi. Ms. Yuan?" She nod. Uncertain.
"Yes. That's me." She gasped at what was held before her. It was an expensive-looking box, a huge teddy bear, and perfect pink roses. Huh?
"Please sign here." He held out a tablet.
"Wait, there must be a mistake. I didn't order anything. Who sent this?"
The guy shook his head. "I just deliver, ma'am. Anything else, I leave it to my boss. You must have a wealthy relative."
Oh. Maybe Aunt Lydia. She sometimes sent her packages. Mostly canned goods, worn bags, and shoes. But not this type of expensive-looking gadget.
Having no choice, she signed the receipt. He tipped his cap and handed her the items.
This was unexpected. No name anywhere.
The huge bouquet of roses was very pretty. Like what one would see on P*******t. And the teddy, wow, it was bigger and taller than her. So soft and cuddly.
-I will call you professor. Shit!- The thought made her laugh.
-I'll cuddle with you later, professor.- She bit her cheek. It was an insane idea.
Now, what was in the box? Curiosity eating at her, with trembling fingers, she lifted the lid and she almost dropped the whole thing.
Her eyes widened. Expensive pieces of chocolates surrounded a MacBook Air.
Oh, God! Where did her aunt get all this?
She made a mental note to buy minutes to call her this weekend and thank her properly.
-Thank you, Jesus!-
Doing her homework will be fun with a new gadget.
Except, she was having second thoughts.
-Who did send her these?-
***
Sinclair rubbed her temples while she reread the same chapter. God! She was tired. And lonely. And sleepy.
The graveyard shift at the diner was taking its toll on her. And it was a school day tomorrow.
It's 1 am. Taking advantage of the empty place, she had taken out her borrowed books to study.
That was an hour ago and nothing had occupied her mind except her...the professor.
He must be busy with a lady's company tonight and her thoughts were with him. An ache had made known on her chest at her imagination.
-Just get over it, Sin. Your infatuation will lead you nowhere.-
With a heavy sigh, she slammed her book shut.
Her tired eyes fell on the clear glass window, her attention was caught at the odd sight outside the diner.
Five expensive-looking cars were parked outside. She didn't know the names of each but she remembered from the magazines and newspapers the diner has kept for the male regulars.
One of the car's doors opened and a man decked out in designer casual got out. A very handsome man with russet hair and ocean blue eyes. Wow.
Hmmph. Her professor was more handsome.
-God, Sin! Stop it!-
"Good evening, love." Yup, panty-dropping voice combined with a toe-curling smile. No effects on her.
She cleared her throat. "What can I get you, sir?"
"Just five black coffee to go," he murmured while he observed her. His eyes filled with...curiosity? Surely this guy was rich and he wouldn't rob her, right? She had no idea what she would say to the sweet old Mrs. Samson if that happened.
"Um... Coming right up, sir." Working efficiently, she handed him the hot beverages carefully in no time. He left a hundred on the counter.
Gods! Rich people always made her look for smaller bills. She was about to request a 20 when he turned to leave.
"Sir," Sinclair was unsure.
"Keep the change, love. It's yours." He winked at her then left.
She looked at the cars once more. One, in particular, caught her attention. The vehicle was in matte black and the windows were equally tinted heavily.
Why did she feel like someone was watching her behind those heavily tinted windows?
Weird.
***
Damn! It was 6 AM and she had to walk home because she missed the bus once more. In a few hours, she will have to be at the uni for her first subject of the day.
Almost in a zombie mode, hungry, dragging her feet, she fumbled for her keys, three paper bags at the corner caught her peripheral vision.
Turning fully, puzzled, she reached for one of the bags and fingered the note attached to it.
'Breakfast then sleep.'
What the...who...
What the hell was going on?
______________
SinclairNothing and no one could change her good mood today. Not even those wannabe spice girls.The extra money from last night made her fill her cupboards. It had been a while since she had indulged in grocery shopping. And the breakfast delivered anonymously, it was obviously from a top-notched restaurant, filled her tummy to the brim.Having extra shillings, made her buy her favorite lip gloss. Of course, it was cheap but it did wonderful things to her lips. Making her feel pretty, too.She had a few bucks left, the money was budgeted until payday.In high spirits and about to reach her locker, her happy steps faltered. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sandy, from her class walking a bit too close to...Professor Stafford. Cozy. Sinclair thought bitterly. They came out of the teacher's lounge at this early hour. When most likely no one was about. The girl was smilin
Sinclair -Later, sweet?- What did he mean by that? Nope. She was not going to wait and find out. Home was where she should be. Far from the tempting professor. She was almost out of the building when her path was blocked by Sandy and the spice girls. -Really? Isn't this overrated?- This was so old school. "What does he see in you, Chinese girl?" God! No originality. Sinclair was tempted to speak in Mandarin to prove her point. But she didn't know the language. A pity. -Old mother English it is then.- "Chinese girl, really? That's the best you can come up with?" That gave her nemesis a pause. Oh, the bitch was trying to think with her fish brain for a good comeback. "You are nothing. We don't even know your name. You are poor, deaf, and...and...
Warning Explicit Language and Scenes 18+ Sinclair All her instinct were telling her to run from him. From Nicholas. He was her professor and if the school administration found out... Wait. What would they find out? They were not even dating. He had not asked her out. And even if he did, she would say no. She didn't want to embarrass him. Though there were those not-so-innocent touches, holding her hands, embracing her to give her comfort, bussing her cheek and forehead, he always acted like a gentleman. Maybe this was how he acted with his lady friends? He must have lots of them, her mood turned sour. She hated imagining it but he was not hers, to begin with. After his friend fitted the earpiece and made necessary adjustments on her new medical aid, Nicholas had insisted on coming home with her despite her vehement protests.
Nicholas -Sinclair. My sweet.- It was never his intention to leave her at the break of dawn while she was sleeping. She was not a one-time thing and she was not his latest mistress. She was more than that. Much much more. Breakfast in bed would have been much better. Literally and figuratively. But dinner in bed was incredible. He reheated their take-outs and fed her despite her protests. There was nothing more fulfilling than watching his woman eat. Sated and content, they fell asleep in her small bed. And as he had predicted, she was draped on top of him because of the confined space. He wasn't complaining. He even looked forward to doing it again and he had hoped to occupy his mammoth four-poster bed instead the next time. This morning though, he groaned at the discomfort, stretching the kinks in his muscles. Yup, the stiffness in his shoulders and
Sinclair -I told you, didn't I?- She had made the most stupid mistake of her life despite her warnings. She trusted. She loved. She fell. And he was not there to catch her. She should have known better. The problem was she gave precedence to the chemicals emitting from her brain whenever he was around. Fuck attraction! Look where it landed her. She was once again back to that old box questioning her worth. After years of self-therapy, fear had crept over her once more. She was as unbalanced as she was when the people she cared for the most left her at a tender age. She was definitely worthless. -Stop! You are not!- The last text she received from him was three days ago. He said there was a family emergency. Yeah, right. She was sure he used that same exact excuse before.
NicholasGod! He was dead tired. The responsibilities resting on his shoulders were overwhelming.His father was a distinguished member of London's Aristocracy. His internment and the place where he was laid to rest had to befit his station in life.With friends at the club and with his solicitors' help, everything went smoothly as planned.The only important thing missing was his Sinclair. Five fucking days. He didn't receive one text from her. Not even a missed call. Nothing.His imagination was running wild. He told her there was a family emergency. No response. What could she be up to?Was she eating well? Did she get sick? He tried his best to sneak out but it was fucking impossible.Nobility from all over England kept arriving. Some stayed until the funeral. His duty was to stand beside his mother and support her in her
Sinclair-What am I doing here?- Her hands securely tangled in his, they walked hand in hand from his garage to the front of his house. He has yet to let her go.Sinclair looked around her. The neighborhood he was living in was far cry from where she came from. This was the opulent side of London where the rich and famous converged. More of an exclusive part of the city.And Nicholas's modern townhouse was no exception. One could not even call it properly a bachelor's pad because it was not. It was a freaking three-story high-end modern structure.It was still early in the evening but this type of neighborhood didn't have people milling about outside their flats. And it was too quiet."Nick," she squeezed his hand. He stopped and turned to her."Yes, sweet?" He arched his brow."Are you sure about this?" She bit her lip nervously.
NicholasHow much longer could he wait?Earlier before they surrendered to sleep, he fingered her hot and tight pussy to satisfaction. He had caressed and kissed her until she had fallen asleep. Though he didn't cum with her, he was contented. Only just.Their first night ensconced comfortably on the downy softness of his bed, she laid almost on top of him, their legs tangled under the sheets, her slender arm on his naked chest and he was extremely aware she was naked bar his shirt. Fuck! Too aware. His cock was pulsing for some time.The light of dawn graced their outside world. He was usually up at this hour, would render a few rounds at a nearby park riding his thoroughbred Black Arabian. And an hour or two at his private gym.This morning, he was enjoying the feel of Sinclair in his arms. But he was not enjoying his erection. He mentally winced."Hmmm..