The Principal's Office

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The Principal's Office Page 15

by Jasmine Haynes


  “I put my hand over your mouth and fall on top of you.”

  She could actually feel his weight pinning her to the bed.

  “You can’t move. You can’t scream. You can only look up at me in the darkness.”

  She moaned, because she couldn’t speak, couldn’t make any other sound.

  “I put my hand over yours on your hot little cunt.”

  That word. It was filthy, and God, it made her so wet. She uttered soft terrified noises for him.

  “I hold your wrists together in one hand and tug your arms over your head. Then I see the pretty scarf sitting on the bedside table, and I bind you to your headboard with it.”

  “It’s red,” she whispered, thinking of one she had in her lingerie drawer. Overcome with the images, she needed more, so much more.

  “Slut red,” he agreed. “You’re at my mercy, and now my fingers are the ones rubbing that throbbing little clit, and inside you, stroking.”

  She could feel him touching her, and she mewled like a frightened animal. She didn’t want to like what he did, but he’d caught her when her blood was high, when she was horny.

  “You’re so wet and your skin is so hot. I fuck you with my fingers. You struggle, but it’s only token. You love this.”

  Oh yeah, she did. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

  “I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked in your life.”

  “No, no.” She writhed on the bed as if she were trying to buck him off. But his fingers were in her; she couldn’t stop him. He was too strong.

  “I spread your thighs and nudge you with my cock.”

  “Oh no, please, you’re too big.”

  He gave an evil laugh. “The bigger the better.”

  “Please don’t fuck me.” She whimpered. It felt so good, his voice, his fantasy, her hands on her own body. She grabbed the vibrator off the bedside table. “Please don’t put your cock in me.” She sounded like Nell begging Snidely not to do her, but secretly Nell had always wanted him over the insipid Dudley.

  “Fuck. I thrust deep in you.”

  The vibrator slid all the way in, thrumming inside like the pulse of his cock. “Oh no, oh no,” she chanted, because God, it was so good.

  “You can’t stop me. You’re so tight, so fucking ready. You don’t want to stop me. You’ve teased me on the street, pretended you don’t see me, but you’ve wanted my cock in you all along.”

  “Oh God.” The sensations were immense, almost as if he were there, inside her, fucking her, forcing his cock into her.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted. “This pussy is mine. I’m going to keep you locked away forever, tied to this bed with all your pretty scarves, where you’ll always be mine.”

  She rocked and rolled on her bed, both hands between her legs, one working the vibrator inside, the other putting pressure on her clit, rubbing, stroking, circling, his voice in her ear the whole time, never letting her down, pushing her higher. She bit her lip, cried out. “No, no, please, no.” Then she screamed, long and low, a wail, totally alien to her, from deep in her chest, deep in her need, deep in him and the fantasies he made her believe were real.

  “JESUS,” HE WHISPERED. THEN HE SMILED AS IF SHE COULD SEE HIM. “That was hot.”

  She laughed softly, a sexy, dreamy, satisfied sound. “How do you do that?”

  “I have a vivid imagination.” But he wanted reality, her in his bed. They’d never spent the night together, but he’d have loved to wrap his body around her now and fall asleep. “Was it as good for you?” He wanted to keep her talking.

  “It was embarrassing. I wailed.”

  “Yes, you did. It was fucking sexy. That’s when I came.” He’d shot high up his belly. He rubbed it in. He wasn’t ashamed or afraid of his own come.

  “We can only do this over the phone.”

  Her words threatened to kill the mood, but they were in the right direction. First, she’d cut him off completely, but he’d known she’d change her mind. She needed him. He needed her. Neither of them was done yet.

  “We’ve proven the hypothesis that phone sex is almost as good as real sex,” he said, the operative word being almost. He figured that within a week, she’d realize phone sex wasn’t enough. She was too much woman to go without a man’s touch now that she’d had a taste of it.

  “So you agree to the ground rules?”

  Her ground rules. They’d made him hot. Talk dirty to her and make her come. No talking about Nathan. That was okay, too; he’d be talking with her in that other compartment of their lives. They now had a foot planted firmly in each part, and there, he’d help her with Nathan. The boy was definitely salvageable.

  “I will agree to the ground rules if,” he bargained, “you come like that every time we talk.”

  “And you won’t push to meet face-to-face?”

  “That wasn’t one of the ground rules.”

  “I just thought of it.”

  “Rachel, you know how I feel. You know what I want. Don’t expect me not to ask for it.”

  He couldn’t remember a woman affecting him with this intensity before. It had to be the mentoring thing. He’d been born to mentor, and she’d fulfilled him in yet another way.

  She sighed. “All right. But I’m a mom, and I know how to say no in the face of wheedling.”

  He laughed. Her sense of humor was back. With every phone call, he’d be a step closer to her return to his house and his bed. Or his deck. Or the hood of his car.

  18

  NATHAN SAT IN THE CHAIR OPPOSITE RAND, WITH A TACITURN face that would have been handsome if he smiled. He was taller than his father, and Rand didn’t think he was done growing.

  Rand opened the conversation. “How’s the week been?” He’d given Nathan a week to consider things.

  “Fine.” Nathan’s lip curled slightly.

  He decided not to beat about the bush. “We didn’t finish our conversation regarding Wally.”

  Nathan raised his eyes, glowered. “I told you it was an accident. You don’t believe me. There’s nothing to add.”

  Rand had seen. It was no accident. What he wanted to know about was the three minutes before, when Nathan had been in the huddle with Tom Molcini, Rick Franchetti, and a couple of other JV basketball players. The boy had looked nervous and uncertain.

  “Do you dislike Wally for some reason?”

  Nathan blew out a breath. “I don’t even think about him.”

  “Then why would a student”—a freshman who would remain nameless for purposes of this discussion—“say that yesterday you and some other students were seen hassling him again?” He’d received several versions of the latest incident, and none of them matched, just that a few of the basketball players, including Tom Molcini and Rick Franchetti, plus Nathan, were on scene. Rand didn’t mind stretching the truth to see if he could get a reaction.

  “What do you mean by hassling?”

  “The contents of his backpack were tossed onto the floor.”

  Nathan lowered his gaze to the desk. “He probably dropped it,” he muttered. “I don’t remember that happening.”

  Wally lacked even the most basic social skills, but he was intelligent. Over the six months Rand had been principal, the boy had made improvements. Until a few students, who should know better, had started picking on him. Now he was in decline.

  “Wally’s a good kid, and we both know he doesn’t deserve this. Let’s talk about who’s really responsible.”

  “I’m not a rat,” Nathan said through gritted teeth, then added, “and I don’t know anyway. What happened with Wally in the cafeteria was an accident.”

  “So no one put you up to it.”

  Nathan flushed. “Why would anyone do that?”

  More aptly, why would Nathan defend them? Rand wasn’t sure when the problems had started. With a student body of more than fifteen hundred, he hadn’t learned all the names and faces yet. First you began to recognize the overachievers, the underachievers, the spe
cial kids, the popular kids; it was only natural. Nathan hadn’t come to his attention until a couple of months ago when his name started cropping up in reports involving others who had a reputation for bullying. There’d been no proof until Rand himself had witnessed the incident in the cafeteria, but Nathan was a follower, not a ringleader. He wanted to join the in crowd or get on the basketball team, and the price of admission was giving a bad time to kids lower on the totem pole. It was probably as much a hazing for Nathan as it was bullying for Wally. But Rand wasn’t tolerating bullies at his school, especially when a special-needs kid like Wally was involved.

  “Nathan, I need your help on this.” His biggest mistake was that he hadn’t noticed Nathan until the trouble started. He’d established no rapport with the boy before he’d questioned him about the incidents. It had all been downhill from there.

  “I don’t know anything, and I can’t help you.”

  “I know you don’t approve of this kind of activity.”

  Nathan pursed his lips into a militant scowl. “I don’t have time to worry about Wally. I’ve got enough to do to take care of myself.” He grabbed his backpack off the floor, yanked it onto his lap, and sat forward, waiting.

  Rand heard the unspoken plea in Nathan’s words with no clue how to interpret it. “You’re free to go. But I’ll be here if there’s anything you can think of that will help Wally. He needs you, Nathan.”

  Nathan didn’t answer. He jumped to his feet, yanked open the door as if he’d like to break the handle.

  That had gone exceptionally well, hadn’t it. Rand shook his head. Dammit.

  For the most part, he loved his job, but being unable to solve problems for a boy like Wally, even one like Nathan, sat heavily on his shoulders.

  The fact that this was Rachel’s son turned it into complete failure.

  “I’D LIKE TO COME TO THE BASKETBALL GAME WITH YOU TOMORROW NIGHT,” Rachel said to Nathan over the phone on Thursday.

  “You can’t.” His voice was surly. “Dad’s coming.”

  Her heart lurched at his dismissive tone. “That’s fine. We can both attend.”

  “It’s bad enough that he’s there. I don’t need the other kids thinking my parents are checking up on me.”

  Rachel rolled her lips together. It was ridiculous that his words should hurt because Gary got to go instead of her. “All right. Next week then.”

  “Yeah, sure, whatever,” Nathan said caustically. “JV games are over for the season, and there’s only one varsity game left after this one. It’s on Tuesday.”

  He was so contrary. Last week, he’d made it sound like she’d committed a crime because she’d never gone to a basketball game. He wasn’t even playing, for God’s sake. “I’d like to come anyway.”

  “Fine,” he spat out. “But if Principal Tor-Vik”—he uttered the name with disgust—“is there, I’m leaving.”

  Rachel sighed. Please, not again. “Did something happen with Principal Torvik?”

  “He called me into his office to ream me out again over Wally, and what I didn’t do to him. Every minute of every day, watching what I do, hounding me. I’m not a criminal, Mom. Can I sue for harassment?”

  She closed her eyes, shaking her head wearily. “We aren’t suing for harassment. Just keep your head down. I’m sure nothing else will happen.” Damn, wasn’t that a wishy-washy answer.

  Nathan obviously thought so, too. “Right. I have to finish my homework, Mom.”

  She didn’t want to let him go, but what else was there to say that wouldn’t make it all worse? “Okay, honey. Love you.”

  She cut the connection. She and Gary had discussed this. They would go to the basketball games, though Rachel hadn’t realized there were only two left. Whatever, they’d both agreed to make an effort to be more involved. It had actually been a civil conversation, and Gary was holding up his end. She’d ask Erin if she could leave a little early on Tuesday. Justin could join them, and they’d all go out for hamburgers afterward, make a fun evening of it.

  With her goodnight calls done, she still wasn’t tired.

  And Rachel gave in to the desire to hear Rand’s voice.

  “Horny already?” he asked. “It’s not even ten.”

  Busted. Yet for some inexplicable reason, his assumption irritated her. “Actually, I called about Nathan.”

  “I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about Nathan,” he said levelly, his tone overly reasonable. As if suddenly he were talking to an irate mom he had to soothe.

  “I’m wearing my mother hat now.” God, she sounded like a bitch again. She’d already been irritated when she called. It wasn’t Rand’s fault. Still, shouldn’t they discuss his conversation with Nathan? “He said you had him in your office again. I wish you’d let me know these things up front.”

  “I don’t call parents whenever I bring a student into my office for a discussion. I only call if there’s an issue.”

  She felt like a chastened child. So she rebelled like one. “Why did you bring him in if there wasn’t an issue?”

  “This was a follow-up. I do that. It’s my job. To keep abreast of student situations.” He sounded cold. She could imagine him using that tone with Nathan.

  “I wish you’d told me about it last night. I would have been prepared.”

  “Our evening activities are separate from our daytime activities. Wasn’t that your ground rule?”

  It pissed her off that he was throwing it back in her face. “Let me rephrase. If you’re having an issue with Nathan, I would appreciate a heads-up.”

  “For you, Rachel, I’ll call ahead of time. Then I’ll report the discussion to you afterward.”

  “You don’t need to be sarcastic.”

  She was able to count to ten before he answered. “I didn’t intend to come across as sarcastic. I apologize.”

  She pursed her lips. She was simply incapable of coping with Rand in two distinct parts of her life. Her initial reaction had been the right one. She couldn’t have both. “This isn’t going to work, Rand. I just can’t do it.”

  “Rachel, we can work it out. I didn’t realize it would bother you that I talked to Nathan without your knowledge.”

  She noticed he didn’t say it wouldn’t happen again. “I have to handle my family situation first. This thing between us is not helping.” She had to think of what was best for Nathan. Phone sex with his principal wasn’t going to cut it. “Let’s take some time apart, okay?”

  “Rachel—”

  She pushed the End button and cut him off. She was pathetic. She hadn’t even told him she couldn’t see him anymore; she’d simply been wishy-washy, just like she had with Nathan.

  RAND STARED AT THE PHONE. IF HE’D APOLOGIZED AND SAID IT would never happen again, perhaps she’d have listened. But he’d have been lying. It would happen again. He and Nathan weren’t finished, and this issue hadn’t been laid to rest. The bullying was ongoing. No matter how much he wanted Rachel back in his bed, he wouldn’t compromise his principles, no pun intended.

  But he wouldn’t let Rachel walk away without a fight. He’d come up with another plan for her, something very special.

  19

  THEY NEEDED TO TALK, FACE-TO-FACE, SCREW DITCHING HIM OVER the phone. Since she hadn’t returned any of his calls, her statement now had much more meaning. Take some time apart—that was tantamount to saying they were through. They were so far from through, and Rand was going to prove it to her.

  On Saturday night, he drove past Rachel’s house. It was dark. If she was out, she hadn’t even left the front porch light on; he’d have to give her a lecture on safety issues. He wasn’t about to give up, though, and parked several houses down due to her hypersensitivity about anyone guessing they had a relationship. The street was full of cars; his wouldn’t be noticed.

  The lawn sloped up sharply from the road, the house on the rise of a hill, the main floor a level higher than the garage. From the driveway, he climbed the path, wide concrete steps bordered by o
vergrown bushes that had lost their shape. He was hidden from the street as the walkway turned and the steps narrowed, becoming steeper as they led to the porch. A large juniper obscured the view of the front porch from the road. It needed trimming, too. Another safety issue. Anyone could be hiding up here, ready to jump her when she went for the front door. He glanced at the lighted dial of his watch. He wondered where she’d gone and how long she’d be, but he’d wait as long as necessary.

  In only a few minutes, headlights flashed across the front lawn, then the bushes. She was home, yet nothing happened for long moments. Finally the minivan’s door slammed, and soft-soled shoes scuffed the concrete path.

  She was exceptionally sexy in the tight jeans he liked and a fitted top beneath a short-waisted sweater. Rummaging in her purse for her keys, she didn’t notice him in the shadow of the juniper. Finally pulling the key ring out, she opened the screen, holding it with her foot as she unlocked the front door.

  She still hadn’t seen him. She was completely vulnerable to anyone hiding on the porch. Didn’t she even sense the danger around her?

  His heart began to race; a plan formed, so quickly he didn’t have time to analyze the judiciousness of it. He saw only how perfect the opportunity was to make the fantasy they’d shared become reality. And an object lesson in personal safety.

  He waited until she’d shoved open the door, then followed her, pushing her into the house and kicking the door shut behind him. He heard the screen slam.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered. “Don’t turn. And I won’t hurt you.”

  “DON’T MOVE. DON’T TURN.”

  Rachel froze, her heart stopped, her skin chilled. She hadn’t even heard him behind her, but now he was in her house.

  “And I won’t hurt you.”

  She caught her breath. Oh God. That voice. She should have been terrified. She should have turned and slapped him for scaring the crap out of her.

  Instead, she held her purse out to the side. “You can have my money. Just leave me alone.”

 

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