Page 95 of The Headmaster’s Rule

My excitement has me speeding up, and the fist in my hair tightens in warning again, but I don’t relent. I want his salty taste on my tongue, spilling down my throat, into my belly. His cock stiffens even more in my mouth, balls tightening in my hand, and I know he’s nearly there.

He growls at my disobedience, releasing my hair and grabbing me by the arm, hauling me roughly to my feet before I can register what’s happening. Then he’s out of his chair, spinning me around, pinning me over his desk, face-down.

Holy shit.

I’ve never been manhandled by a guy like this, a guy I trust, who’s doing what I asked for and doesn’t mean me harm, and it’s so fucking hot.

I whimper as he plunges one hand into my hair again, the other lifting my dress, tugging my panties down. They only make it to the back of my knees before blistering heat breaks out across my backside as his hand strikes me, making wet fire burn between my thighs.

“I said slowly,” he forces out between gritted teeth. “Do it right or I’ll deny you the honor of sucking my cock.”

Another crack on my bare skin, and I emit a low moan as pleasure shudders through my lower half. I’m dripping, literally dripping. I can feel it on the inside of my thighs. I squirm, rubbing my legs together, desperate for him to fuck me. He notices, fingers sliding between my thighs, through the wetness he’s caused without touching me there.

“Look at you,” he says, voice laced with reproach. “What a mess.” Again he spanks me, harder this time, a blinding flash of pain that instantly melts into pleasure.

Fuck, he’s good at this. Good at being so stern and disapproving. I glance at him over my shoulder, needing to check we’re okay, that he’s still only playing. A devilish smirk slants his lips, fingers loosening in my hair to stroke once, reassuring.

“I’m your mess,” I breathe, lifting my ass for more, and he gives a low, dangerous chuckle.

“Yes, you are, baby. So you’d better learn how to behave.” Another blow from his hand, then the hard, blunt tip of him nudges my entrance. But instead of thrusting inside, he teases me, dragging his tip through my slickness, making me quiver with need.

“God, Theo, do it,” I beg, and his hands come to my hips, gripping me hard enough to bruise.

“Naughty girl,” he growls, still teasing my soaked entrance. “So desperate to be filled by the headmaster.”

He’s right, and I’ve lost the will to care, to be ashamed. The need I feel for this man? I’d follow him straight into the flames.

Then he’s inside me, hard and fast, fingers twisting in the strands of my hair again, hips pumping with the same animal intensity he showed on Halloween.

“Next time you want to misbehave,” he rasps, “remember how I fuck you after.”

A laugh shakes out of me as I take his brutal thrusts. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

His hand meets my backside again, hard and loud, the pain mingling with the pleasure of him being inside me, filling me, until he pulls away suddenly, cool air rushing across my ass. I look back at him, wondering if I’ve said something wrong, but he takes my arm gently, turning me to face him. Then he sits me on his desk and pulls me into his arms.

“I’m done being rough with you, sweetheart. Come here.”

The sudden change in him takes me by surprise, and I melt against his chest, burying my nose in his shoulder, inhaling his musky sandalwood scent. He shoves everything from his desk, sending papers, his nameplate, pens, and empty coffee cups clattering onto the carpet, and leans over me, sinking inside me on a long sigh.

“Much better.” His elbows fall beside my head, chest flush with mine, and I wrap my legs around him as he kisses me tenderly. “Now I can see that beautiful face as you come undone.”

“And I can see yours,” I breathe, stroking his beard, gazing at him.

The look in his eyes hits me like a jolt of lightning straight to the heart—raw, reverent, stunned, as if he can’t believe I’m his.

And I know, in this moment, that I’ve fallen in love with him. That whatever happens between us, I’m not prepared to give him up.

My throat tightens at the realization, my pulse scattering. I blink rapidly to clear the emotion welling in my eyes, breath catching.

I love him. I love him.

“Baby,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine, hands on my face, in my hair, like he knows what I’m thinking, how I feel. He doesn’t say anything more as we move wordlessly, mouths fused, bodies in sync until we reach our breaking point.

We collapse together in a breathless heap, limbs entangled, his hand still cradling the back of my neck as if he can’t quite let go. Our breathing slows, but the ache in my chest doesn’t. I don’t know if it’s from the intensity of what just happened, or the fear of what it means.

Eventually, the hard wood under my back becomes too much, and we peel ourselves apart. He tucks himself back into his pants, motioning to his private bathroom in the corner of his office. I wash up, hands shaking, wondering how he feels. If it’s what I feel. If he’d ever consider taking the risk of making this something more than stolen moments in his office.

Theo leans against his desk, deep in thought, gaze lifting when I enter.