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The younger students definitely looked up to them, some in more romantic ways than others, but we had a good group. Mike and I had often described them as theDadsof the club, but we’d been careful not to say that around them.
There was just something confident and easygoing about them, and even the girls in their friend group had an air that made me wonder if they were Dominants.
Not that I’d ever ask.
Nope.
Just because I was a young professor at one of the strangest universities in the whole country did not mean I was wondering if any of the students in the club were Doms…or Daddies.
Nope.
Not me.
I was professional and liked my privacy.
Ugh.
I needed to date more.
Students who were younger than me were not supposed to buzz with Daddy vibes. I was supposed to be looking for someone older and more mature who wouldn’t mind that I wasn’t so mature in my personal life.
“Now, don’t forget, if you’re participating in the Secret Santa gift exchange, grab your present at the back and no trying to guess this early.” Jamie glared at everyone, pointing a menacing finger and shaking her head. “The point is to guess at the party right before winter break starts. Don’t ruin it for everyone else. Some of you can’t keep secrets at all and we’re not guessing our Santas until it’s December.”
She seemed to be taking the whole Secret Santa gift exchange a bit too seriously, but my worries might’ve been because I was her Santa and she was giving me ulcers.
“Remember. Present. Present. Party and reveal.” She glared at a few girls in the corner who were giggling, clearly not taking the game seriously enough. “I’ve heard you guessing. Don’t fuck with your Secret Santa.”
Yep, I was going to end up with an ulcer.
But after another round of laughter and teasing, everyone nodded like good minions and the club meeting started breaking up as everyone went to pick up their present or to get another brownie.
Thankfully, who ever had been in charge of dessert this time had better taste or at least hadn’t wanted to fuck with everyone.
“Hey, Professor Winslow?” One of the freshmen from my Intro to Psychology course nearly ran up to me and charged right in on questions about class as I desperately tried to figure out which twin was in front of me.
Max?
Adam?
I was starting to think they liked fucking with me because they never said which one they were unless a grade was involved.
By the time they were done…and I thought it was Max based on the questions…the room had emptied out and the brownies were gone.
Shoot.
No pouting.
No pouting.
I had Cocoa Puffs at home that would be a good treat and probably healthier than brownies based on the vitamin content listed on the side of the box.
“Don’t worry. I saved you a piece.” The surprisingly deep voice coming from behind me had me trying not to shiver.
Dante.
I was a grown-up.
I was a grown-up.
