“Swallow,” Rutledge ordered.
Shawn glared up at him but did as he was told, albeit with some difficulty. Thankfully, it didn’t taste as gross as he had expected.
Looking down at him through heavy-lidded eyes, Rutledge took a deep breath.The next moment, his face closed off. He removed his hands and tucked himself in. “Passable.”
Shawn didn’t know whether to laugh or punch the asshole in the face. He got to his feet, wiped his swollen lips and said, “Thanks, Professor.” His voice was hoarse and scratchy—from sucking his professor’s cock. “So, what about that grade?”
A muscle pulsed in Rutledge’s cheek. He looked downright pissed off. “Dismissed, Wyatt.”
Shawn left.
As the door to the professor’s office closed behind him, Shawn breathed out. He couldn’t believe he’d actually done it. He had sucked another guy’s cock. He had let Derek Rutledge, of all people, fuck his mouth in exchange for a grade.
Shawn flushed and looked around, suddenly paranoid that everyone could guess what had happened just from looking at him. But no one was paying him any attention. No one knew.
Everything was fine.
What was done was done. He could put the incident behind him and pretend it had never happened.
Now he could only hope Rutledge would keep his end of the deal.
Chapter 4
“Relax, man,” Christian said, dropping into the seat next to him.
“What do you mean?” Shawn said, glancing around the lecture hall before looking at his hands.
“You’re tense as hell. Are you nervous about your grades? Didn’t you say you talked to Rutledge and convinced him to give you a second chance?”
“Yeah, I did. He didn’t fail me yet—I just found out he gave me a D.” And god, it had been such a relief. Shawn didn’t think he had ever been so happy to receive a D.
“Congrats,” Christian said with a grin, patting him on the back. “I’m still amazed you managed to convince him.”
Shawn studiously avoided his friend’s eyes.
“Speak of the devil,” Christian muttered.
The instant hush that fell over the lecture hall was almost amusing. Almost.
Shawn glanced at Rutledge’s tall form before dropping his gaze.
“The midterm grades are in,” Rutledge said, without preamble. “I reported the grades of thirty-eight students whose grades were below C-. The reports were sent to the Office of the Registrar, which distributed them to the individual students.” He paused. “If you have any questions, ask.”
Silence.
Some guy lifted his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Taylor?” Rutledge said, walking toward the student. Shawn didn’t look; he just saw it in his peripheral vision.
“I don’t understand,” Taylor said. “I got an F, and apparently that’s it! I can’t even improve my grade? In every other class, midterm grades don’t affect our overall GPA. They’re pretty much there to tell us where we are in the class, and whether or not we need to work harder, but apparently, not in your class. What the—I don’t get it!”
Shawn cringed.
“Poor guy,” Christian muttered.
There was a pause.
“Mr. Taylor,” Rutledge said at last, his voice dangerously soft. “Have you read the syllabus?”
