Teach Me a Lesson

by Jasmine Haynes

She tried to wriggle free. “You bastard.”

  He held tight. “You, Miss Moore, are incorrigible. You can’t follow directions. You don’t obey orders. The only choice is to tie you up and make you take whatever I dish out.”

  Of course, he had a problem now. If he let go of her wrist, she’d roll away and run. But without releasing her, he couldn’t get the damn cuffs on.

  She looked from him to the bedside table, reading his mind, and smiled wickedly. “Gotcha.”

  “No such luck, Miss Moore.” He flopped down on top of her, surprising an oomph from her. “You have to remember that I always win.” The silk cuffs were in reach and within a few seconds he had her wrists secured.

  She glared at him, her lips set in a grave line, and tried to buck him off.

  “Oh baby, that only makes things so much better,” he whispered.

  When she opened her mouth, presumably to hurl a few more insults or to scream, maybe even to bite him, he sealed his lips on hers. He drugged her with the kiss, taking her deep with his tongue until she fell still except for the slight rise of her head to meet his mouth. A moan vibrated in her throat.

  He backed off. “You are so easy, Miss Moore.”

  “Actually, I’ve got you right where I want you, Principal Hutton.” She gave him a haughty little smile. “You’ve stopped castigating me about Eric and now you’re going to make me come. Gee”—she flashed him toothy grin—“looks like I’m the one in charge.”

  Hell, yes. She was. He was completely smitten. He’d do anything she wanted. If she said she wanted to tie him to the bed, he’d have handed her the rope and loved everything she did to him. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell her that.

  He flicked the neck of her sweater. “Is this an expensive outfit you can’t live without?”

  She laughed. “It’s so old, half the nap has worn off. Since you failed to let me know you were coming, I didn’t have a chance to dress up for you.”

  “Good.” He reached for the rope he’d brought with him. Already cut in lengths, he wound one of the pieces through the center of the silk cuffs between her wrists and secured it to the brass rail above her head.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked.

  “Will you untie me if I say yes?”

  “Only if I think you’re telling the truth.”

  “You’re not going to have any idea.”

  He eyed her. She would never be any man’s submissive. She would always give her master hell. That’s why she was so perfect. He didn’t want a doormat. “In that case, I presume everything feels fine.”

  He left her there, her wrists bound and tied to the headboard.

  “Where are you going?” she called.

  He padded into the kitchen, opened and closed drawers until he found what he wanted. Then he returned, laying a pair of scissors on the side table.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are those for?”

  “If you stay very still, this won’t hurt a bit.”

  He tucked his fingers in the waistband of her leggings and yanked them down over her hips, pulling her panties right along with them. Her pretty little bush was a lighter shade of red than her hair, almost a strawberry blond. He couldn’t resist putting his lips to her trimmed mound. Then he couldn’t resist flicking his tongue between her lips. She was spicy and hot, potent on his tongue. And very, very wet.

  Charlotte groaned.

  “Why, Miss Moore, for all your talk, it appears you’re actually enjoying this.” He blew a breath on her and was rewarded with a shudder. Her legs moved restlessly.

  Lance tugged the leggings and panties all the way down. “Love the slippers, Miss Moore.” Then he tossed everything aside.

  She lifted her head to look at him. “I hate it when I’m naked and you’re fully dressed.”

  He trailed a hand up her shin, over her knee, along her thigh. Then he toed off his shoes and climbed onto the bed to straddle her. “All in good time, baby.”

  Retrieving the scissors from the table, he slit the sweater up the front.

  Charlotte shrieked. “Oh my God.”

  He brandished the scissors. “Settle down, Miss Moore. Or I’ll have to gag you.” After cutting the shoulder, he sliced the sweater down her arm. Charlotte didn’t struggle. Repeating the procedure on the opposite side, he yanked the ruined material away to reveal her gorgeous breasts in a black lace bra. His mouth watered with the need to taste her.

  “You could have just taken it off me before you tied me up,” she said dryly.

  “You were struggling.” He flashed a wide grin. “Then I forgot until it was too late. At least I remembered to take off your pants before I tied your legs.”

  “Oh no, please. Don’t tie my legs. I won’t struggle anymore, I promise.” She was such a good actress that tears brimmed in her eyes.

  “I don’t trust you not to kick me.”

  “I promise I won’t.”

  He shook his head slowly. “No. This is what I’ve dreamed of and this is what I’ll have.”

  Climbing off, he surveyed her ankles, her legs tight together. The possibility of rope burns existed. “Stay right there.”

  “It’s not like I can go anywhere,” her voice followed him down the hall.

  He found two washcloths, one pink, one gray, in the pink-and-gray bathroom. They’d work perfectly. Back in the bedroom, he was struck anew by the sight of her. The glow of the lamp through its colored shade bathed her limbs in lavender tones. The sweet triangle of hair at her apex beckoned. Her lush breasts spilled over her bra cups.

  His gaze traveled up to the hollow of her throat, then to the frowning, narrow-eyed glare focused on him.

  “Someday, you will pay, Principal Hutton.”

  “I look forward to it.” He swathed her ankle in a cloth, knotted a length of rope and twined it around, then ended by tying it off on a foot rail. “This is going to be so good,” he mused as he rounded the bottom of the bed. He spread her legs, tied her down.

  Fishing in his pocket for the condoms he’d brought, he laid them on the side table within easy reach. He’d need them eventually, but first, he was going to play. “Now, what to do with a naked woman all spread out for me like a feast?”

  “Eat me?” she suggested.

  “Good idea.” He leaned over and sucked her big toe.

  She giggled.

  He licked his way up her shin, over her knee cap, along her inner thigh, following the path he’d taken earlier with his hand. Dew drops glistened on her neatly trimmed curls, the bud of her clit pink and plump. Instead of his tongue, he used his nose to nudge her, breathing in her spicy scent. He felt the slightest of tremors travel through her body.

  Then he looked up. She’d lifted her head to watch him, her eyes an exotic, primitive jungle green, her hair a sexy, rumpled mess.

  “I’ll make you scream with pleasure, Miss Moore. Then I’m going to fuck the hell out of you.” He slipped a hand into the cup of her bra and pinched her nipple, startling a gasp from her as her body arched into his touch. “But first I’m going to feast on these perfect breasts.”

  * * *

  CHARLOTTE COULD BARELY BREATHE. THE PINCH HAD BEEN LIKE a live wire attached directly to her clitoris. Her body was on fire, her pussy dripping with need, her nipples aching for more.

  Then he took off his clothes, standing gloriously naked before her.

  She’d never met a man who could make her lose all sense the way he did. One minute he was berating her, the next he was spreading her out on her bed. And she let him. She wanted everything he did to her.

  She was completely under his spell.

  He grabbed one of the pillows he’d thrown on the carpet earlier and tucked it beneath her head. Better. Now she could see everything he did without getting a crick in her neck.

  “Don’t you dare cut this bra,” she said hotly as he straddled her, his leg hair soft against her skin, the underside of his balls caressing her, his cock hard and pulsing. The words were supposed to give her a
modicum of control, but she was totally in his power. Not because she was tied down and at his mercy, but because she wanted this.

  “It’s too pretty to destroy.” He undid the front clasp, pushed the cups aside, and let out a long, slow breath of appreciation. “Your breasts are so fucking gorgeous.”

  She wanted to preen beneath his gaze. She wanted to hold them out for his touch and his taste. Instead, he gathered both nipples between thumbs and forefingers and tweaked hard.

  Charlotte cried out as sensation zinged straight down to her clitoris.

  There were things they needed to discuss. Eric. His father. Her job. Melody.

  But in a split second, Lance had turned off all those switches and flipped on the one that was all about sex, about touch and taste and sensation.

  “These are mine,” he whispered, bending low over her, plumping one breast in his big hand, and devouring her nipple. He licked and laved and sucked hard until she was on the edge of pain. It made the pleasure all that much greater. She tried to form words, but there were only sounds, a groan, a sigh, a moan. He switched his attention to her other breast, gave it the same treatment, and just when she was sure it was pain and not pleasure, he pinched the opposite nipple. Charlotte cried out. She almost came. She quivered, felt a rush of moisture inside, close, so close, yet she squeezed her muscles, holding it off. Not yet. It wouldn’t be good enough. She needed his fingers on her clit, his tongue in her pussy, his cock filling her.

  Just when she thought she might not be able to fight the climax, he lifted his head to gaze up at her. “Perfect,” he whispered as he insinuated a hand between their bodies and dipped his fingers in all her moisture, stroked her. Her body started to hum again. She thrust her head back into the pillow, arched into him.

  “This isn’t punishment,” she said on a gasp.

  “It is. Because you’re going to beg me to stop at some point. And I’ll just keep going until you scream for me.”

  She couldn’t hold out. The climax roared through, blinded her. Until he was no longer straddling her, but lying beside her, knees bent by her ear, his shoulder next to her thigh.

  “Now I’m going to lick you, baby. You’re going to come again for me.” He spread her folds, put his tongue to her. Charlotte’s body jerked. She was still sensitive.

  “No flinching. Or I’ll hold you down.”

  “I can’t help it.” She gasped and jerked as he sucked on her. Too much, too much.

  He climbed over her in a classic sixty-nine position, gathered her buttocks in his big hands, and went at her. Trapped beneath him, she strained and bucked. His cock bobbed close, and Charlotte opened her mouth, capturing him between her lips, drawing him in. She couldn’t come when she was sucking his cock. She’d ride the edge, but Charlotte had never been able to do two things at once, at least not those two things.

  Yet somehow it was worse—or much, much better—where her body felt ready to tumble, almost there, quivering, rolling, needing, wanting, but just a second away from implosion. His taste in her mouth, his scent swirling around her, thick, hard, hips pumping slightly, fucking her mouth. There were only the guttural sounds of sex, its mesmerizing aroma.

  Then he put two fingers inside her, and Charlotte opened her mouth to scream, lost him, felt only the warmth of his flesh against her cheek as she shattered yet again.

  He barely let her catch her breath. Once again, he was lying beside her, his lips and chin glistening with her juices. “Where’s your vibrator?”

  “In the drawer.” She pointed with her chin.

  He rolled over her body, found the toy, flopped back down beside her, and switched it on. She felt the buzz of it deep in her body before he even pressed it to her.

  “You like it right here, don’t you?” He glanced up as he circled her clitoris with it.

  “Oh God, oh God.” The sensations were almost too intense to bear after having already come twice.

  He circled lightly, didn’t press too hard, didn’t enter her, just swirled round and round until she was mindless. When she was alone, she could come, then rest, start again, build again, come, rest.

  But Lance never stopped. He just kept on and on at her. With his fingers, the vibrator, his mouth, his tongue. She rode from peak to peak, or maybe it was all one long orgasm that never ended. She begged but he didn’t stop.

  When she couldn’t have said her name or his name or even her safe word, Charlotte gave him what he demanded. She screamed.

  19

  CHARLOTTE COULDN’T OPEN HER EYES. HE WAS ADDICTIVE. SHE was supposed to be angry with him about something, but he had the ability to make her completely forget everything else.

  He leaned over her, his skin brushing the length of hers, his cock hard against her belly, his breath sweet in her hair. “We’re not done yet, Miss Moore.”

  She groaned. She simply couldn’t take another orgasm. But he was off the bed, padding around it. Charlotte couldn’t find the strength to open her eyes to see what he was doing. Then he was touching her, lifting her, shoving a pillow beneath her bottom. If her ankles weren’t tied, it would have been quite comfortable.

  His hairy legs nestled between her thighs. He teased, petted, stroked, and her body responded despite the fact that she was drifting in another plane of existence.

  Then he caressed her folds with the blunt tip of his cock. Her body began to tingle the way her mouth did after a breath strip or a potent mint. He eased inside her, just the head, pumped slowly, filling her with barely more than an inch or two. The tingle became heat, then fire, but somehow icy at the same time.

  Finally Charlotte opened her eyes. “Oh my God. What are you doing?”

  “Special condom,” he said, his body arching, withdrawing, hands on her thighs.

  Of course she knew about them. She’d recommended such items, even used them, but in that slow, shallow rhythm, he caressed her G-spot with heat and frost that had the potential to drive her mad.

  Yet this time she needed to watch. With his swarthy features and his hair more dark than gray, he was like a wicked satyr plundering her. She wanted to reach out to stroke the light dusting of silver-and-black hair on his chest, but her hands were tied. She wanted to curl her legs around his hips, pull him in, but she could do nothing more than strain at the ropes binding her ankles.

  “Untie my legs,” she begged. “Please.”

  He smiled his devil smile, knowing he had her, that she’d given in to all his temptations. He leaned right, then left, the knots releasing easily, and Charlotte wrapped her legs around him, drawing him deep inside her. “God,” she whispered, shoving her head back into the pillow and arching.

  “Jesus, that’s hot.”

  She looked up again to find him watching the slow glide of his cock in and out, thick and hard, possessing her. Wrapping her fingers around the bedrail he’d tied her to, she braced herself, bearing down on him.

  “Fuck.” His whisper was harsh and guttural. His eyes on her were smoky hot.

  She’d always told her clients to let themselves go, try new things, experiment. She’d claimed that with the right partner, anything could happen. But in this moment, she knew she’d never achieved what she’d recommended for her clients. She hadn’t even come close. Until now, with him, her principal.

  Then he reached for something on the bed beside her, the vibrator. Its heavy buzzing filled the air as he parted her, pressing the edge to her clit and the tip against his cock. Her body started to tremble, her breath puffing. Everywhere they touched was hot and icy, and the vibrator simply intensified it all.

  “Put your legs up here.” He patted his shoulders.

  She lifted her limbs, laid her calves on his chest, her feet up close to his ears. He held one ankle. “Squeeze your legs tight.”

  As she did, the sensations magnified tenfold, the vibrator on her clit, his cock stroking her with the tingly, icy heat of the condom. Her body contracted around him, her legs quaked, and she felt herself riding the edge of an endle
ss orgasm.

  * * *

  SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL IN HER BLISS, HER EYES SQUEEZED TIGHTLY shut, lashes fanning her cheeks, red lips pressed together, fingers white with tension around the bedrail above her. Her body’s contractions urged him on to a faster pace, pulled him in, but he kept up that slow, inexorable thrust. He’d found her G-spot and he rode it relentlessly. Her legs trembled and shook against him, but he imprisoned her ankle in one hand so she couldn’t wriggle away or dislodge the vibrator. She bucked and heaved against him, her hair flying across the pillow, strands catching in the lipstick that remained on her mouth. She was no longer aware of him, he was just a body, a cock, hard flesh. He’d never felt anything like it, the tight squeeze of her muscles along with the zing of the condom. He’d felt it the moment her body had begun to heat the latex, setting sensation loose. It was enough to drive a younger man to fucking her hard and fast and deep, taking his pleasure, needing it. Yet Lance didn’t give in, not yet.

  He had never done to a woman what he’d done to her, never made a woman scream, never made her lose herself the way Charlotte was lost in this moment. Now that he’d had it, he’d never give it up, never give her up.

  She wailed with her release, her body bowing. If her hands had been free, she would have curled into him. Fixing him with a suddenly fervent gaze, she chanted, “Now, now, now.”

  It was time. He tossed the vibrator, parted her legs and fell on her, taking her, plunging deep, pounding her with his body, her cries in his ear. She took him with the same ferocity, muscles clenching, milking, working, until he was as lost in her as she was in him. Until the orgasm that tore through him was both pleasure and pain, infinite ecstasy.

  For long moments, minutes, or hours, he was aware of nothing but the heat of her skin against his and the lush feel of her pussy surrounding his cock. He didn’t know how long he’d lain flush atop her with his full weight, but he became aware of her laughter, soft, a little crazed.

  “Oh my God,” she muttered. “So that’s what they mean by having died and gone to heaven.”

  “I’d say it was just going to heaven,” he murmured into her fragrant hair. “We’re still alive to do it again.” And they would, over and over. This was just the beginning.