Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Are you sayin’ Kit’s not a sub?” Greer chuckled, confused.
“No, ’course he is—but that side of him appeared slowly over time,” Colt replied. “I mean the servitude shit. It was a couple things in the beginning, but it’s not until now—or the last couple of months—that he’s been asking for more chores and whatnot.” He nodded at Greer. “Your boys have definitely been an influence.”
I nodded, understanding that bit. Submission, as dominance, was fluid, and I was sure Gael would be affected by both Noa and Cam once they spent more time together.
A knock on the door ended our conversation, and I opened up to see a fine-as-fuck Reese in a three-piece suit standing there.
He sucked his teeth. “I shoulda been a coach.”
I laughed.
Greer put his hands on his hips and performed a couple lunges. “Can you do this, monkey suit?”
Colt cracked up at that too, whereas Reese gave us a bitch stare before storming off.
“Club area in thirty seconds!” he bellowed.
“I think you mean Great Hall!” Colt hollered back. He tugged at his shorts and tightened the drawstrings. “Maybe free-ballin’ it was a bad call.”
Greer and I had warned him.
We left the office together and headed for the club area, where every Top but us three was dressed to kill. Or teach at a preppy academy. Dean was delicious as always, though he looked mildly offended about everyone stereotyping his profession. Which was funny because he was the walking stereotype. He wore sweater vests sometimes, corduroy, and he even had a pocket watch.
Tonight, he’d dug out a brown suit, with a vest, and he was sexy as sin. Even I wanted to give him an apple and get an A+.
“Okay, everyone into position!” Penelope called out. She was rocking a snug pencil skirt, blazer, and high heels that I was sure Nora would appreciate.
All professors and coaches trailed over to the platform, where the suited-up professors sat down on chairs and we coaches positioned ourselves behind them.
I dipped down and kissed Dean’s cheek. “Gorgeous.”
He glanced back at me and gave me a once-over. “Tuck in your shirt, dear.”
I stifled a laugh and did as told. “Yes, Professor.”
His mouth twitched.
Our helpers were dressed nicely too. Franklin, Archie, Ivy, Gretchen, and someone named Anthony—I hadn’t met him before—had volunteered to help us run the event smoothly.
And in the far back, we had our audience. I noticed August and Ev were here, presumably to keep an eye on their pregnant Ivy.
“Gretchen, you may open the doors,” Penelope said.
“Yes, Ma’am.” Gretchen complied as Walker joined Penelope by the podium.
Within seconds, uniformed brats barged in from the patio—and Lucas, who unbuttoned his suit and took a seat on the platform. A buzz of excitement tore through the room, and it was difficult not to grin.
“Take a seat, students!” Penelope ordered.
“Oh wow, look at Master Kingsley.”
“A show of hands, who wants to be flogged by Master McKenna?”
“I just wanna point out it’s a fashion crime to wear dress shorts unless you’re a schoolboy in England or you play guitar for AC/DC.”
“Holy crap, look at the Tenleys.”
“Yeah, but look at my Daddy in that headband!”
At the sound of Kit’s giggle, I had to fake a cough to hide my amusement.
“What the fuck?” Colt muttered under his breath. “We’re fuckin’ fabulous.”
Of course we were, buddy. Of course we were.
Precisely nineteen subs filled the wooden chairs in front of the platform, and I saw Gael somewhere in the middle between Cam and Kit.
It warmed my heart to see him surrounded by friends. He was so visibly excited too.
Walker clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat, causing a few subs to shush the others, and the rush of conversation died down.
“Welcome to Mclean House Academy,” he stated, all business. “Before we begin, Professor West has the results from the last Game to share with us. Pay attention.”
Oh, right. That was the photo event. They’d called it Picture-Perfect. Competing dynamics had been tasked to submit three photos to represent a kink or two, and it’d culminated in an exhibit with a vote last month.
Lucas walked over to the podium, prepared with a few flashcards. “Hello, everyone. As promised at the last Game, we are going to announce the top three from the Picture-Perfect event in January, so I have with me the results of your votes. These three photos can be found in the hallway on the second floor, but after tonight, they will move down here and grace the wall in the lounge area.” He paused to flip to the next card. “At the exhibit, you each had ten points to distribute however you liked—with the exception that you couldn’t vote for your own photos—and this is how you voted.” The next pause was for dramatic effect, and it seemed to work. The subs were antsy to hear the results. “In third place, we have Master Jack and his Franklin with image six, titled At the End of the Day. Well done.”