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My muscles spasm, and my vision blurs, either from the lack of oxygen or the breathtaking climax this God of a man brought me to. Perhaps a mixture of the two as I continue to writhe beneath him, taking every thrust of his hips as he becomes more uneven and uncontrolled, grunting and groaning above me.

He roars, sinking his teeth into my shoulder as he unleashes inside of me. Shot after shot of his cum floods my pussy, and it’s the most overwhelming sensation as my vision returns, and Oak releases my throat, panting above me.

At that moment, I know that I’ve never felt so close, so connected to another human being before. As I look into his hazy, unfocused eyes, I feel my chest ache as I know this can’t happen again.

Oak is the principal of this school and my teacher. And yet, I want it to happen daily. I never want to leave his bed, as I know this silly fantasy will be over.

Oak pulls his cock from me and lies down on his back, reaching for my hand. He squeezes it, making that ache in my chest deepen. We lay in silence, neither of us knowing what to say.Tonight was the best night of my life, but I fear it will have to remain a treasured and forbidden memory and nothing more.

21

OAK

As I walk toward leadership class with the seniors, each step I take is hesitant, knowing that Eva should be there. I haven’t seen her since we had sex, as she didn’t turn up for our class on Tuesday. It’s now Friday, and I can only hope she turns up; otherwise, I’m going to hunt her down. I can’t stand her avoiding me.

My stomach flips as I notice her instantly, sitting in her usual seat, doodling on her notepad as she so often does before class. I can’t help the smile that twists onto my lips the moment I see her, which both irritates and confuses me.

I clear my throat and enter the room. “Morning, class,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on Eva, who, despite blushing a pretty crimson, doesn’t meet my gaze. “Today, I want to discuss five different leadership styles.” I turn to the board behind my desk and grab my marker pen, writing five words on the board.

Authoritarian

Participative

Delegative

Transactional

Transformational

I turn back to the class. “Which are the most common in the crime world?”

Natalya’s hand shoots up, as always. “Authoritarian.”

For once, Natalya isn’t right. “Not exactly no. You would think so, but not the most common strategy.” I search the faces watching me. “Does anyone else know the answer?”

To my surprise, Eva puts her hand up. “I believe delegative is the most common strategy since leaders don’t do the work themselves. They delegate.”

I clap my hands together once and nod. “Exactly right.” I tilt my head and walk around the front of my desk, struggling to keep my eyes off of Eva. “Can anyone tell me the advantages and disadvantages of delegative leadership?”

Natalya puts her hand up. “Yes, Natalya.”

“The advantages are that the leader can spend time on the important workings of the organization while his or her men handle the day-to-day running.” She runs a hand through her hair. “However, it can lead to the people below believing they have more power than they do and may make it difficult for the leader to keep proper tabs on his or her soldiers.” She shrugs. “In that case, it is a perfect breeding ground for disloyalty and betrayal.”

“Thank you, Natalya. That’s exactly right.” I grab the textbook off my desk and hold it up. “All of you turn to page one-hundred and fifty-five and read the five pages on the different leadership strategies.” I push off my desk and take my seat on the other side. “Then, I want a three-page essay on the leadership strategy you would choose and the reason behind your choice.”

A few pupils grumble, but I ignore it as everyone begrudgingly pulls out their textbooks and finds the page. Eva, who is still a pretty shade of pink, won’t look up at me as she focuses all her attention on the task at hand.

I lean back in my chair and watch her, utterly captivated by the girl who broke my resolve earlier this week. Eva has made me question everything I believed I knew for the past five years.

A knock at the classroom door draws my attention, and my brow furrows when I see my secretary, Melissa, standing there. I signal for her to come in. “What is it?” I ask.

She glances around nervously. “You should see for yourself.”

I glance at my class, who focus on us rather than on their work. “Get back to work,” I growl. “I’ll be back shortly.”

I stand, following my cryptic secretary into the hall.

“Melissa,” I hiss, once we’re out of earshot of my students. “Tell me what is going on.”

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