Bait: Winchester Academy, Book 1

by Madison Faye

  Blue fire swirls in those eyes, burning me, captivating me, and pulling me in like a blue whirlwind. His jaw is clenched tightly, and yet there’s a small little hint of a smile at the very corners of his perfect lips. He runs his tongue across his teeth under his lips, the scruff on his jaw rippling along with the ink on his arms as he raises one hand to stroke his chin. The hand drops back to his desk, a single finger tapping the wood as he stares right into me before he slowly raises his hand.

  The finger crooks, beckoning me.

  “Come here.”

  I tremble as I swallow thickly, feeling my pulse race a little faster. I brace myself, taking a shaky breath as I force myself to stand.

  “Professor Bard—”

  “Come here, Ms. Penworth,” he growls lowly.

  God he’s so commanding—his voice so deep and growly. The sound of it in class is enough to take my breath away and make my blush. But here? Alone with him, at midnight, with him looking at me like that?

  Well, right now, that voice sends a shiver down my spine and heat blooming between my thighs.

  We both know what this is. We know why we’re here. I mean, we’re both adults, right?

  …As of one minute ago, that is.

  I move towards him, feeling like I’m drifting underwater in slow motion. He watches me the whole time, his eyes sweeping over me and sending a tingling, naughty feeling through me.

  “Here,” he growly, crooking his finger again and then turning it to point at the desk. He slides back from it in his chair, meaning for me to stand between him and his desk. I shiver, nodding quietly and feeling the heat blazing across my face as I move where he’s pointed, standing there half-leaning against his desk, hands clasped in front of me.

  “Yes, Professor Bard,” I say quietly.

  “You know why you’re here.”

  God yes.

  “Y—yes.”

  Professor Bard nods. “Today was unacceptable, Anastasia.”

  God, the way he says my name has my core tightening, my pulse skipping.

  “I know,” I nod.

  “And?”

  “I—I’m sorry.”

  “For?”

  “For acting up. Mouthing off.”

  He nods, and even with mine looking at the floor, I know his eyes are burning into me.

  “Anything else?”

  I swallow, shaking my head.

  “Nothing? Nothing else at all you care to mention?”

  I shake my head again. “No, Professor Bard.”

  He nods, the room going silent again as I lean against his desk, feeling his gorgeous blue eyes burning into me.

  “It’s your birthday today, isn’t it?”

  I nod, looking up and forcing a smile through the red in my cheeks.

  “As of…” I glance at the clock and tremble.

  “Three minutes ago.”

  Oliver’s eyes flash, and he clenches that chiseled jaw even tighter.

  “And how old are you?”

  He knows damn well how old I am.

  I swallow. “Eighteen.”

  Professor Bard growls.

  Growls. God, he growls, and it’s so fucking hot, I actually have to shut my mouth to stop from moaning.

  “Happy birthday,” he says quietly, eying me.

  I blush as I rake my teeth over my bottom lip.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Doing anything fun?

  I shake my head before I glance up at him, a smile teasing my lips.

  “Detention?”

  He chuckles darkly, his blue eyes sparking blue fire at me.

  “Not going out with friends after? A boyfriend?”

  I shake my head again. “No boyfriend, actually,” I whisper.

  “I know.”

  I tremble at his voice, biting my lip harder as my hands toy with the hem of my skirt.

  “And you’re sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me about? Or apologize for?”

  I shake my head. “No, sir. I’m not sure what you mean—”

  “I mean these,” he growls deeply, pulling his desk drawer open and reaching in. And when he pulls his hand back out, my entire body blushes. Because there, in my gorgeous older professor’s hands, is my little white thong with the pink lipstick hearts on it—the very ones I left in his desk that day.

  I cringe, chewing hard on my lips a I shake my head, ready to deny it all out of sheer embarrassment.

  “Sir, I—”

  “Yours, aren’t they?”

  I blush even brighter, cringing under his deep, brooding eye.

  “No,” I whisper.

  “No?” He smiles thinly, his eyes blazing

  “I think they are. And I’m wondering why you left them in my desk drawer.”

  I cringe, biting my lip and looking down as my toe scuffs at the floor. Somehow, my fantasy never went here. In my fantasy, he found them, and then somehow, we’re just kissing. There’s never been the consideration that him finding them would make him angry like this.

  “I—they’re not mine,” I blurt out.

  Oliver looks at me fiercely, clearing his throat.

  “Ahh, my mistake, then,” he says quietly, gently fingering the panties in his hand.

  “So, since they’re not yours, you don’t mind that I took them home.”

  My eyes dart to his, going wide. I swallow, panting, my pulse racing.

  Professor Bard stands, looming over me, and as he steps forward one step, I press back against the desk, trembling.

  “Well?”

  I shake my head. “No, sir,” I whisper.

  “And since they aren’t yours, you don’t mind that I smelled them, then.”

  I gasp quietly.

  “I could smell sweet little pussy on them, Ms. Penworth,” he growls, and I fucking melt against his desk as my pulse thunders through me. Because I know we’ve just crossed another line. Even pulling my freaking panties out of his drawer and teasing me was one thing. But my high school government professor saying the word “pussy” somehow makes the whole room feel a little warmer, and smaller, and the air between us heavier.

  “But of course, they’re not yours, right?”

  I whimper as I shake my head, my mouth opening but no words coming.

  “Ahh, I see,” he growls. “And so, it doesn’t matter to you that I took these little pussy-soaked bad girl panties and wrapped them tight around my cock, does it?”

  I moan, and it’s just there, hanging in the silence between us like neon sign. It just tumbles out, and once it’s out there, I know there’s no taking it back.

  Professor Bard’s eyes blaze into me, holding my gaze as I stand there looking up at him, trembling with nervousness and need and aching for whatever comes next.

  “I think you’re lying, Anastasia,” he growls quietly.

  He moves closer, his hands going to either side of me, gripping the desk as he moves against me until his masculine scent surrounds me and the heat of his body teases against mine.

  “So why don’t you tell me why you left your little panties in your professor’s drawer.”

  “I—”

  “Tell me,” he grunts.

  “Because,” I whisper, panting.

  “Yes?”

  “Because I wanted you to… I mean… I wanted…”

  “You wanted me to find them.”

  I swallow, trembling, my eyes lowering to the floor and my face pulsing red. His hand comes up, and when I feel his fingers brush my chin, tilting my face up, I moan softly as I look up into his fierce blue eyes, burning right into me.

  “Answer the question, Anastasia,” he purrs.

  “Yes.”

  I choke the word out, and his jaw tights, his eyes blazing blue fire

  “Well,” he growls, moving closer, his hand cupping my jaw and my entire body shivering with aching need.

  “Well, I did. So, what are we going to do about it now?”

  I rake my teeth over my trembling lip, looking up int
o his fierce, commanding gaze.

  “Am—am I in trouble?” I whisper.

  He grunts, his jaw clenching. And when he moves right against me, pinning my small body to the big desk pressed against my ass, I whimper.

  “Yes, Ms. Penworth,” he growls lowly. His fingers trace my jaw until his hand his cupping my cheek, and a tremor teases down my spine.

  “But something tells me, that’s exactly what you wanted.”

  The move is both lightning fast and in slow motion—the blink of an eye and eternity. And yet, all I know is, one minute they’re not, and the next minute, his perfect soft lips are crushing fiercely to mine, and I’m kissing my professor.

  Hard.

  I moan as he steals my breath away, kissing hungrily, and fiercely, and demandingly. It’s a hard, crushing, bruising kiss, and my entire world spins around me as I completely lose myself in it. I moan, falling into him, my body arching into him like it’s been aching for the connection. He growls deeply, darkly, his hand cupping my face possessively as the other hand slides around to the small of my back, pulling me tight to him.

  His tongue teases my lips, and when I turn my head a little and open my mouth for him, suddenly, he’s kissing me even fiercer. His tongue swirls with mine, his lips seared to mine, and his hands holding me like he’s never going to let me go.

  This is wrong.

  This is really, really, really fucked up and wrong. But something tells me, if I actually believed that, we wouldn’t be here, or I’d be pushing him away and running from the room.

  But I’m not. And I’m not going to. Because all I want is to keep kissing him, and I never want to stop.

  He groans into my mouth, pushing me back until my ass hits the edge of his desk again. But he doesn’t stop, and when both his hands drop down to cup my ass firmly, I squeal into his mouth as he lifts me up and sets me down on the edge of his desk. He moves into me, kissing me fiercely as his hands grip my waist tight. His mouth drops down to my jaw, biting and nibbling and sucking his way across it as I cry out, clawing at him. My head spins as he moves to my neck, his lips teasing across the tender skin and his kisses growing hard and punishing.

  I know he’s leaving marks on me, and I love that he is. He’s marking me, and the more he kisses my soft skin and nips at my neck, the wetter I get.

  He pulls away, his eyes wild and blazing with heat as he breathes heavily through his nose. His hands slide to my thighs, tugging gently on my skirt and pulling it higher. I moan, panting, my eyes dropping to my bare legs as he pulls the skirt up over the edge of my knee-high socks, and then higher, baring inch after inch of creamy skin. His hands tighten, and when he starts to pull my legs apart, I shiver excitedly even as I blush fiercely.

  “Let me see, baby girl,” he growls, his eyes sliding up to mine, blazing into me as he spreads my legs. My skirt rides higher and higher, until it’s basically covering nothing by my panties—draped down over the front of them like a flimsy little tease of a cover. I blush deeply, as he kisses me once more, knowing he’s not going to stop here, and knowing if he gets any further, he’s going to see how fucking soaked my panties are.

  His tongue swirls with mine, and he grunts, sucking mine into his mouth and making me moan before he pulls away. His teeth drag over my bottom lip, sucking on it before he steps back and slowly sinks into his big chair. He moves closer, his hands sliding up my knee-high socks until his strong fingers brush my bare thighs. He slides them higher, his eyes dropping down between my legs, but when he starts to tug at the hem of my skirt, I gasp, my hand dropping to his and stopping him.

  Professor Bard growls, his eyes flashing fire as they blaze into mine, his jaw clenching at being stopped from his prize.

  “I…” I blush heatedly.

  He lips pull into a hungry grin.

  “You want me to stop?”

  I swallow, biting my lip, my head shaking side to side so gently it’s almost impossible to see. But he does.

  “So why are you stopping me, baby girl?”

  I swallow, panting.

  “I think I can guess,” he purrs.

  I swallow again. “No, you—”

  “Is it because if I pull this skirt any higher, I’m going to see your little panties covering that tight little pussy, and when I see those, I’m going to see how fucking wet you are, and then I’m going to know just how naughty a little bad girl you are, with your bad girl pussy getting all wet and messy for your Professor.”

  It is, without question, the filthiest, dirtiest, most scandalizingly forward thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

  …And instantly, I’m wetter than I’ve ever, ever been.

  Soaked, actually, and I can feel my thin panties molding to my lips—so wet I’m afraid I’m going to leave a freaking puddle on his desk. Oliver reaches for my skirt again, and my hand stay on his, holding him back for one second, before they falter and drop. He grins wolfishly as my hands move to the side, and slowly, he pushes my skirt up all the way to my waist.

  I moan quietly, my legs moving together on instinct, but he groans as he shakes his head, his eyes blazing fiercely.

  “Uh-uh, little one,” he purrs. “Don’t you close them. Let me see, Anastasia. Show me how messy your naughty panties are.”

  I gasp, whimpering in pleasure as his hands slide to my thighs again. He tugs my legs open, spreading them wide, and my face goes red as I feel a man’s eyes on me, there, right on my soaked little panties, for the very first time.

  I’ve worn a white cotton thong, with pink lacy edges and a little pink heart right over the front of them. Except right now, they’re so wet that they’re literally transparent, clinging wetly to my pussy with only the pink heart giving me the very tiniest possible shred of modesty.

  “My my my,” Oliver growls, his eyes dropping to them and his whole face tightening and hardening with something wild and hungry. He makes a tsking sound as he shakes his head.

  “I think someone’s exactly as naughty a girl as I thought.”

  His hand slides up my thigh, my breath catching more and more, until his fingers brush lightly over the lacy edge, right at the little crease between my thigh and my pussy. I moan deeply, trembling, and when my hips buck traitorously, pushing gently against his hand like my body is desperate for more, he chuckles darkly.

  “Eager little girl, aren’t you?”

  He groans, and when his hand slides over to the front of my panties, I gasp, panting as the pleasure melts through me.

  “And such a wet little girl too,” he groans. His thumb brushes up and down, stroking my pussy through the sticky wet cotton, and everything around me starts to blur as the pleasure between my legs begins to pulse.

  Oliver leans close, his breath on my bare thighs making my skin prickle and shiver, and when he looks up at me, my eyes lock on his and I fall into his gaze.

  “I think we should take these off.”

  “I think we should too,” I manage to whimper out breathlessly.

  His thumb keeps stroking me as his fingers slide up to the top edge of my panties. Two of them slide under, and he starts to tug them, stretching the waist down as he pulls it lower and lower, until he can see my bare, clean, shaved totally smooth lips. And he groans.

  “Fuck, Anastasia,” he growls, his face blazing with fierce lust and heat. His fingers tighten, tugging my panties lower even though they’re still on my hips. The fabric digs into my skin, but there’s this restraint feeling to it that sends my pulse racing. He grunts, stretching my little panties out as he pushes them lower, baring all of me to his hungry gaze.

  He moves in, and my breath catches as I feel his across my bare, slick lips. He pauses for one second, his eyes flicking up to mine—one last little shred of hesitation on his face.

  “I’m eighteen,” I whisper. I don’t know why, maybe because that’s what I think his lingering pause might be for. He growls lowly, his eyes flashing into mine as the words leave my lips.

  “I’m eighteen, Professor Bar
d,” I whisper again, a touch of urgency and need in my voice that I know he hears.

  “Eighteen,” he purrs, his jaw grinding.

  “Please,” I gasp quietly, so… so… desperate to feel his mouth on me. So eager. So I’ve-been-waiting-for-this-for-way-too-long-to-stop now.

  And slowly, he grins.

  “There’s a good girl.”

  He leans in, and when is tongue drags over my bare lips, I throw my head back and cry out. Pleasure I’ve never even dreamed of melts through me, a flooding sensation starting between my legs and radiating out through my entire body. Oliver groans, moving back in and letting his tongue swipe up over my pussy again. His tongue bumps over my clit, and I cry out, trembling and bucking my hips wantonly against his mouth.

  “Greedy little thing aren’t you?” he purrs, pushing his tongue into me and making me squeal as he starts to push it in and out, like he’s shallowly fucking me with his tongue. My body trembles and quivers, my pussy flooding his tongue with my arousal as he starts to lick me faster, and more insistently. His fingers tug at my panties, stretching them away from my pussy as he devours me. That wicked tongue of his slides up and down my lips, pushing in against my virginity before sliding up to swirl across my clit.

  Oliver pulls away with a snarl suddenly, and I start to whimper in protest before he grabs my panties and with one quick tug, yanks them down my legs and tosses them onto his desk. He grunts, shoving my thighs apart and moving in, and I moan loudly as his tongue delves between my pussy lips again.

  I fall back, one hand planted on his desk, my mouth slack and my eyes hooded with lust and pleasure as I look down at him. His big hands grip my creamy thighs, pulling my legs lewdly open for him as he tongues my little pussy. My other hand drops to his head, my fingers pushing into his thick dark hair, and when he starts to swirl his tongue around and around my clit, I start to come undone.

  “Professor!”

  “Let me taste this pretty pussy, baby girl,” he groans into me. “Let me make this little cunt come all over my tongue. Let me taste what your virgin cum tastes like, baby. Come for me. Come on my fucking tongue.”

  He snarls like an animal as he moves back in, and pleasure explodes through my body as he sucks my clit between his lips and starts to bat it with his tongue. His hand moves up, his fingers stroking my lips and teasingly pushing shallowly inside as he tongues me.