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I storminto Mr. Boyd’s office on Monday, having awoken very early. Which should have been his warning when I slam the door to his classroom, locking it.
“Doll Face,” he rasps, and I have to fight that instant pull. As if I’m a moth who recklessly wants to burn to ash from his radiating light. “Have you come to explain yourself?”
I slam my hands on his desk, leaning over him. He smirks, his strong hands rubbing up my sleeve-covered arms. I want to melt. Damn it. Three seconds and I’m already sexually frustrated. “I only have one thing to say.” He looks up to me, ashwood eyes smoky as he watches me, eyelids heavy. “You’re not enough for me.”
“I know,” he says sincerely.
I pause. Caught off guard. I shake my head slightly. “You’re hot and cold. Giving me whiplash, and I can’t handle it.” His fingers rub the hem of my red velvet skirt. “And—” I stumble on my words, trying to remain focused. “If I wanted another deadbeat in my life, I’d call my real father.”
He nods. “I know. All of that is true. Which is why I’m letting you go.”
“You are?” I ask, not believing him.
He nods. His hand lightly grabs ahold of my throat, pulling me closer to his face so that I’m leaning above him. “Only after I taste you one last time.” His lips crash to mine, slow and thoroughly. His arms wind around me, settling on my ass as he pulls me to straddle his lap. I’m helpless to anything but kissing him. His tongue rubs against mine, causing a groan to break past his lips and into my mouth. His hands slip under my skirt, his fingers tracing the curves of my hips as he pushes my skirt up to my waist. His hands clasp around my waist as he bucks up into me, causing me to moan loudly. He rises, his hands gripping my ass as he slams me into the whiteboard. Releasing me, he pins my body in place with his, his hard length grazing at my heat as he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. His lips break from my hot mouth, trailing down my neck, biting through the thick material of my sweater and into my breast. Suddenly, he drops me to my feet, taking a step back. He loosens his belt, heated eyes watching me as I lean breathlessly against the whiteboard. “You want the belt, my dirty little slut?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper breathlessly.
“Come here.” He licks his lips. I walk to him on shaky legs, body humming with anticipation. “Hands behind your back. Bend over my desk.”
I do, of course I do. I bend over the desk, hands behind my back as I wait. I feel him step in behind me, the usual dark energy gone this time. There is something different. Like maybe this is goodbye. Which makes me break a little inside. He slowly runs his hands up the backs of my thighs, flipping my skirt up. He loops his thumbs in my panties, dragging the lace down to my ankles without reprimand. I hear the tear of the condom, feel the heat of his body behind mine. And then, I feel the delicious ache of him sinking inside me, filling me to the hilt. His hand leans against mine as he stays still for a minute. Allowing us both the time to soak each other up one last time.
“Doll Face, I fucking love these bows. Can I keep this one?” He tugs on the bow with his teeth, I assume, because his hands are currently firmly placed on my waist.
“You’ll mess up my outfit, so I’m going to have to decline.”
He chuckles, pulling out slowly and sinking back in. “Don’t ever stop wearing them,” he rasps, picking up speed as the desk scrapes against the floor. He’s careless, reckless of anyone seeing or hearing us. I bite into the stack of papers in front of my face, tamping down my moans as my body wiggles on his desk. A loud slapping of flesh against flesh and the scraping of the desk against the floor echo in the silent room.
“You need to control yourself, Mr. Boyd. You’re being really loud, and someone may hear us.”
“Like I give a fuck,” he says into the hot skin of the back of my neck, lips dragging down my clothed spine.
There is something different about the way he fucks me this time. Almost raw and primal. The strong grip of his unforgiving fingers embeds into my hips. The way he fucks, the long strokes, letting me feel every inch of him with no rush. The way he doesn’t fumble when it comes to finding my clit, hitting my most sensitive spot. The way he owns my body, how he molds himself to it. I have paper cuts on my mouth, on my lips, tiny droplets of blood falling onto the papers. I’m close, and with one bite to my throat and his thumb strumming my clit, I fall. I whimper into the desk as he continues to thrust.
A knock on the door has us freezing. He moves quickly, tucking his shirt back into his pants and zipping them up. He pushes my panties up and rights my skirt, since my hands are still tied. The knock comes again, and I look to him with panic-filled eyes. “Go sit in the back of the class. I don’t have time to untie you.” My mouth falls open. Is he serious? I go to protest when the knock comes a third time, more urgent and louder. “Go.”
I walk quickly to the back of the room, knowing I look unnatural with my chest puffed up and arched in the seat. I lean back against my chair, trying to calm my breathing as he walks to the door calmly as if the stench of sex doesn’t still linger in the air.
“Hey, Mr. Boyd.” I freeze at the voice, squeezing my eyes shut to somehow try to become invisible. “Oh.” My eyes shoot open to see Jennifer. “If it isn’t good girl Callum. What? Did you get detention?” I nod. She pauses, looking back and forth between Mr. Boyd and I. “Yeah, I’m not really getting those vibes. It feels like something more is going on here. Something that, if I expose, will get Callum in a lot of trouble.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Whatever you’re thinking, Jennifer, it’s not true.”
She taps her chin, grinning. “Oh, but I think it is. But maybe—”
“What is it you need?” Lincoln cuts her off.
“My grade. Maybe if it’s bumped up to an A-plus instead of an A-minus, I’ll keep your secret.”
Lincoln arches an eyebrow at her. “Are you threatening me?”
“Maybe.”
“You better have some evidence before you take this to the principal, because if not, you’ll be expelled.”
She smiles. “I think I’ll take my chances. Unless you want to bump my grade up?” Jennifer asks.
“Grades are earned, not bought. Now, leave my classroom.” He dismisses her, but I feel sick.
She waves her finger at me, practically floating out of the classroom.
