Nathan

"So, now that we've navigated through the difference between a Sociopath and a Psychopath, can anyone tell me what three things differentiate the two?" I lean back on my desk, looking up at the students in the curved seating area and wait for one of them to speak. "Anyone?" It's the beginning of sophomore year and I've yet to find a single student that stands out in my class. "Yes?" I point to the student who has raised their hand.

"Is this going to be on the exam?"

Fuck me dead.

"Yes Julia, this is definitely going to be on the exam." Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I look around the room and sigh. "Why don't you all just gather your things and go. I want three chapters read of your Criminal Profiling textbook and we'll go through it next week." The students begin to scramble for their things, desperate to remove themselves from the class. My last sophomore class was phenomenal and it's like now I'm stuck teaching the town of deliverance about how to make fire.

Walking around my desk, I begin to gather my own things. Waiting for a few moments until the room becomes deathly silent. Removing the glasses from my face, I rub my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. This is fucking horseshit I didn't come here to teach fucking idiots.

"Nathan."

I look up to see Joseph Chambers -Dean of the University admissions- walk his swollen body through the side entrance to the classroom that's situated next to my desk. Joseph Chambers was one of the few people at this place that I actually tolerated. The man looks like an overstuffed chipmunk at the taxidermy office in town and honestly, I'm surprised his wife has stayed with him for as long as she has.

The clothes he's wearing are clearly a size smaller than necessary. He knows this but does absolutely nothing to change that. Not like me. Not at all like me.Most of the time I keep myself to myself. I come here, go to the gym, go home. Eat, sleep, repeat. This is a place of work, not a social club. I didn't get to where I am today without sacrificing certain things in my life so I could be the best at what I do, and I am the best.

I was head hunted for this place because I was the best, I excelled in all aspects of excellence and with everything I had to offer, there was no way they weren't going to give me everything I asked for. After all I was packing up and moving half way across the fucking globe just to work here.

I've won many prestigious awards in my time and now, finally being here at Brown, it gives me a chance to expand myself and my knowledge. To push myself for further achievements.

I've been here now for three years, and I've worked my ass off sucking up to the man standing in front of me. Just so when the time comes to him deciding who will take over as ‘Dean of Admissions', I'll be at the forefront of the old bastard's head.

"Joseph," I smile, taking his hand in mine and giving it a brief, yet solid handshake. "What can I do for you?"

"I have you're new TA waiting outside the classroom. Would you happen to have five minutes spare, so I can introduce the both of you. She's a transfer student from Penn state. 4.0 GPA and very eager to learn all she can. Sweet kid too. Nineteen I think."

Nineteen. A bit younger than I was hoping for but beggars can't be choosers.

"Of course, bring her in." A 4.0 GPA? Transferred? For what, I wonder. I look up as the door clicks against the framework and the moment I do; all moisture leaves my mouth. My heart begins to hammer so heavily in my chest I feel as though it might burst through the bony cage its encased in.

"Nathan, this is-"

"Ashley." I murmur. All sense instantly leaves my brain the moment I lay eyes on the girl before me.

Shit, shit, shit. SHIT!

This can't be happening to me right now. Jeeesus. Fucking nineteen. She was nineteen when I… Fuck! Rape. Wait, statutory rape is anyone under sixteen in the US, so I'm clear of that.

Ok, good. But fuck me I'm thirty-eight and she's… she's… She's nine-fucking-teen. Almost twenty years my junior. Not that I look my age. I look exceptional for my age really, and she didn't look her age either.

Not the least bit nineteen when I had her on all fours, taking my cock so far down the back of her throat it was criminal, all the while I was leant forward, and finger fucked her-

GET A GRIP DANVERS!

This is not the time to think about shit like that. Hold on, my job? Is my job safe? I mean technically speaking she hadn't even started yet. But she was enrolled.

Shit!

Although it was before she came here. I can't really get into trouble if they found out. I'd just be known as the nonce who liked to fuck little girls.

The things I did to her.

She was in a bar. I just assumed she was twenty-one.

If they do find out about it, it will also affect my position as Dean next year. God almighty, this cannot be happening to me. I'm a fucking paedophile.

"Nathan?" Joseph waves his hand in front of my face. Bringing me out of my dissociative stupor.

"Sorry, Joe, I spaced there for a second. Realised I forgot to tell the students what chapter to read for next week's class." Lies, all lies. I'm shitting a brick.

"Always works hard this one." He claps a hand on my shoulder and grins. Turning to face the angel I fucked three ways from Sunday a few days ago with a broad smile. "Ready to insert himself anywhere."

Kill me now.

"Oh, I'm sure he is," Ashley giggles. Covering her perfect little mouth that was made for sucking cock, and here I am, again, thinking about her like that. I need to stop, this is so fucking inappropriate of me.

Granted, sex with Ashley was quite possibly the best sex I've ever had in my entire god damned life and that says a lot. Connection is a massive thing for me, and I never just go out and fuck random strangers. For some reason though, that night at the bar I just couldn't resist her. She was fucking perfect.

Nonce mate.

Ashley holds out her hand to me and leans in. Her picture-perfect, small-town girl image causing me to go rigid. "It's really nice to see you again, professor."

"You've met?" Joe questions, his brow creasing in confusion as he turns to face me.

"In the hallway earlier," Ashley interrupts, dropping her hand from mine and covering for me. If I had to speak right now, I'd stutter like a little bitch. "I was trying to find English Lit," she continues. "Right?" Meeting my eyeline for the second time. Fuck, I dazed off again.

Shit, shit, shit.

I'm going to jail. Jesus H. Christ.

Nineteen?

"Yes," I clear my throat. "Poor girl was wandering around the hallway like a lost puppy," I chuckle. Can he smell the child predator on me?

"Well, it's rather big that's for sure." He laughs this time. "Anyway," he shoves his hands into his checkered slacks.

His rotund belly hanging over it like a fucking apron and I have to stop myself from gagging. "Ashley here will be starting with you as of tomorrow. I have to leave but talk between yourselves and set up details of timings and everything so she's here to best support you."

He nods and turns on his heel to leave. The door clicks closed, but I can't take my eyes off of her. I need to sit down. Pulling my chair back, I drop down and sigh. Resting my elbow on the arm of the wooden swivel chair, I throw my fist to my mouth. Taking a small step forward she presses her hand to the oak table, leaning forward slightly to meet my eyeline. The action so smooth that I almost find myself shuddering as I watch her. Willing for my cock to stay asleep.

"Nathan I-" I hold my hand up, cutting her off.

"Nineteen? Did you plan this?"

"What?" She frowns, hurt lacing her eyes. "No not at all. How was I to know you were the teacher of the class I'm not only taking but assisting too?" I search her eyes for any inclination that she might be lying. I've been teaching criminal psychology for thirteen years now and I know all the facial expressions of a manipulator. Yet here, on her, I'm coming up empty. There's not a single micro-expression on her face and I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse.

"You understand that what happened between us can never happen again, right?"

She steps around the desk and sits on the corner. The book that her hand is wrapped around, placed gently in her lap as she looks down at me.

I grip the opposite arm of the chair until my knuckles go white and I lose all feeling in my fingertips.

"I really didn't know, I swear."

Her breasts jiggling slightly as she speaks. Oh my god. Stop. "Ok. But this is now strictly a student-teacher relationship." I stand from the chair.

Towering above her and as the air swirls around me, the scent of her fruity perfume sails into my nose and I have to suppress a groan. Locking it away deep in my chest.

"Of course," she agrees immediately. Nodding her head as she says the words.

"Meaning, nothing but work-related conversations. No flirting. No," I swallow as I remember what it felt like to have my cock buried inside her, "touching of any kind." She giggles then and the sweet sound flicks my memory back to three days ago when I called her a ‘dirty fucking slut' and she found it hilarious.

"No touching and no flirting… Got it," she nods. "Friends?" She smiles, holding out her hand to me again. She slides her hand in mine ever so softly and grips it as hard as she can. "Ashley Porter. TA, Gemini, and I love Chinese food."

"Nathan Danvers," I counter, trying my best not to smile. "Scorpio but Thai is better." I drop her hand and she places it back in her lap.

"I also have a penchant for older men too it seems," she winks at me, standing up and flicking her long, curly blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Ashley," I sigh.

"Too soon?" she smirks.

I blow out a frustrated breath and begin packing my things up again. "I'll need you in class tomorrow at eight AM, no later. Please read chapters one through seven of-"

"The Psychology of Criminal Conduct by James Bonta and D. A. Andrews as well as the Psychology of Crime by Philip Feldman. Done."

I snap my head to her, and she grins. "Done?" I query. Surely not.

"Yeah, done. I've read them both twice. Both extremely contradictory in their own right. However, I did enjoy Feldman's analysis on criminal behaviour based on the biological aspect better."

If I didn't want to fuck her before, I definitely want to now.

"Impressive," I nod.

"Go hard or go home, right?" her shoulder lifting in a delicate shrug.

"You'll be prepared for tomorrows lecture then." It's not a question. Pulling my tan, leather satchel from the desk, I hold out my palm, indicating for her to walk first. Turning on her heel, her hair flicks over her shoulder and I'm greeted with that fucking coconut shampoo that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. She's absolutely perfect in every way but it can never happen again. I have to keep repeating that as I follow her out the door, eyes strained to that perfectly round ass of hers. Locking the door to my classroom, I turn to face her. "I'll see you tomorrow Miss Porter-"

"Eight AM bright and early." She winks as she walks backwards. Swinging back around after a few steps and disappearing around the corner.

I'm completely fucked.