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Swiping his master key at the door to The Classroom, he holds it open for me. Feeling playful, I skip to one of the two desks in the front row and sit.
“You’re in the wrong spot.”
Confused, I ask, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re the teacher. I’m the student.”
I furrow my brow. “But I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He pulls me to stand and places his hands on my hips. “Last time, I did whatever I wanted to you. Now it’s your turn to tell me what you want.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re in charge.”
Not having thought through this scenario, I get flustered. I don’t know how I feel about that. It’s one thing to work through what’s happening when I can mentally check out and just feel, but this is something else.
“Hey, hey.” He gives one of my pigtails a tug. The hairstyle made sense when I thought I was the student. “Don’t overthink it. We’re here to play and have fun.”
“I don’t know what to do or say.”
“Just tell me what you want. Teach me how to please you.”
My mind spins with possibilities. It’s not a bad idea to let me control things. It’s all I wanted when I applied for the courtesan job. Besides, if I’m in control, I can explore his body the way he’s done mine, and I’m dying to make him feel as good as he’s made me.
I can do this. It’s Rigger, the man who would never make me feel unsafe or do something to harm me.
“Okay.” I sidestep him and turn around, building a character in my head. I can do this. I can be his college professor, and he can be the troublemaking student who’s never paying attention. Then, I can make him do extra credit, only make it naughty. “You’re late again, Mr. Brown. Please take a seat so we can get started.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says.
Rigger is a dominant man who thrives on control. At any given moment, he knows everything going on at the Honey Pot and the clubhouse. He derives pleasure from telling me what to do and having me do it. I’ve seen it over and over, and to be honest, I like it that way. After so many years of making all the decisions and not having anyone as a sounding board, it’s been like a mental vacation since he’s been back in my life.
All to say this can’t be easy for him. I know he’d much rather be at the head of the room ordering me around. This is just another example of the lengths this man will go to for me.
Walking up to the whiteboard, I pop the cap off a marker and poise my hand inches away. “Today we’re going to learn about—” I look behind me, not surprised that Rigger’s eyes are on my ass. I recap the marker and turn to face him. “Do you have a problem, Mr. Brown?”
“Who, me? No, I’m good. Proceed.”
“I don’t think you are. As of yesterday, you’re barely passing my class, and now I catch you being inappropriate? I don’t think I have any other choice but to fail you.”
He jumps to his feet, a sneaky grin on his face. “You can’t do that, Miss Kennedy. This is the last course I need to graduate.”
I snicker. “That’s too bad.”
“Please.” He lowers to his knees, begging. “I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
He nods, a fake plea in his eyes. God, he’s so cute. It’s hard to remember this man is in a motorcycle club. He’s left little doubt in my mind that he’s killed people, many people, and here he is, playing along and getting on his knees for me.
“I guess I could give you extra credit.”
“I’ll do whatever you tell me to do,” he begs.
“Hmm.” I turn around so he’s facing my back and slowly lower my panties, bending in half so he gets an eyeful of my ass.
“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath.
