by Zoe Blake
This was a man of focus, of determination. A man who did what needed to be done. Who took what he wanted. Who was accustomed to being obeyed.
“Good morning, Mrs. Ludtz,” Phoebe said with false cheer, watching the older woman closely. Phoebe wasn’t sure if Mrs. Ludtz recognized her as one of the people on the shore who witnessed her strange behavior the other day. If she did, it would make Phoebe’s task all that much harder. Mrs. Ludtz barely spared Phoebe a glance before returning to her typing.
Well, that answers that, thought Phoebe, at least Mrs. Ludtz was back to her usual restrained appearance with a tight bun, no makeup and serviceable shoes.
The woman gave her a scowl over her glasses as Phoebe tossed her shoulder bag on the ground and plopped down into a chair. She started to reach for some old-fashioned looking strawberry wrapped hard candies in a class bowl on the desk, but a disapproving glare from Mrs. Ludtz had her pulling back her hand.
Phoebe had a definite feeling the woman didn’t approve of her. It looks like Amber was right. The woman clearly didn’t like other women who dressed fashionably, and with Phoebe’s penchant for high heels and bright red lipstick, she was definitely on that list. Today she was dressed more for a heist than the classroom. She had worn black form-fitting pants with black knee-high boots and a black V-neck sweater. She was on a mission after all.
“How may I help you, Professor Pringle?”
Phoebe thought she would try the direct approach.
“I was just at a little teacher’s party,” she stopped as the bitter woman frowned in disapproval. Rushing on, she said, “And I was hearing some strange rumor that the murders could be connected to this crazy old tale of a mad monk! Do you think that could be true?”
Mrs. Ludtz pulled a key from the center drawer of her desk and stood. Taking up a pile of paperwork, she walked through an adjacent door and returned empty handed. All the while Phoebe watched and waited.
“I would focus on your duties here and not pay attention to idle gossip, Professor Pringle,” Mrs. Ludtz said stiffly as she replaced the key.
“But I just feel so bad for those women,” needled Phoebe.
Mrs. Ludtz sniffed. “Don’t. Neither of them were proper young ladies. They were lucky it was not a few hundred years earlier. Back then, they would have probably been burned for witchcraft given their loose morals, provocative dress and unmarried state,” sneered the woman as she gave Phoebe a knowing look.
Phoebe’s eyes widened at that cruel and callous response not to mention the not-so-subtle reference to her similarity to the victims.
“Was there something else you needed, Professor Pringle?” she asked, her agitation showing.
“Yes, Mrs. Ludtz. Would you perhaps know if there is a local library in town? I looked online but didn’t see one listed. I thought perhaps it didn’t have a webpage.”
Lifting her lips up in distaste, she asked, “Why would you need a local library? There is an exceptional one here at the school.”
“Yes, I know. I just find myself fascinated by some of the local…foliage,” lied Phoebe, knowing a reference to local lore would remind Mrs. Ludtz of her interest in the mad monk tale and probably bring on another lecture about morals and the proper place of women.
“There is one on Oak Street just off Main. Now if there is nothing else, Professor Phoebe, my day does consist of duties outside of entertaining your varied questions.”
Recovering, Phoebe thought for second. “Yes. Knowing how you guard the traditions here, I just wanted to let you know I saw a few midshipmen out of uniform on the quad.” She leaned in close with a conspiratory gleam in her eye. “And I think they were wearing…jeans!”
With a cry of alarm, Mrs. Ludtz sprang to her feet and ran straight out the door. The woman could certainly hustle when she thought her precious traditions were not being respected!
Phoebe did not waste a moment. Leaning over the desk, she opened the center drawer. Brushing aside a few prescription bottles of pills and a tiny, souvenir dreamcatcher, she located the key. Rushing through the door which she suspected led to the file room, she wasn’t disappointed. Placing the key in the slot on the side of the cabinet, she turned it, unlocking all the drawers. Tossing a quick look over her shoulder, she pulled each drawer open till she found one containing student files. Her fingers slipped over the tabs. Locating the files for Drake and Casey, the two midshipmen she had learned were repeatedly disciplined for troubled behavior, she hustled over to the copier in the corner. Casting another glance through the doorway to the receptionist’s area to make sure all was still clear, she began to copy the contents of each file without even risking a look at what they contained.
Grabbing the warm stack of paper straight off the copier, she returned to Mrs. Ludtz’s desk to grab her shoulder bag and shove them inside. Now that her copies of the files were secured, she returned to the side room to put back the student files and relock the cabinet.
Just as she was turning the key, she heard footsteps and a low, male voice just outside in the hallway. Knowing she would raise suspicion if she were found in the file room or lurking around Mrs. Ludtz’s desk without her near, Phoebe crossed the threshold and slipped into Michael’s office, pulling the door almost shut so she could hear but not be seen. If she were in luck it would just be someone dropping off something for Mrs. Ludtz. She was certain it wasn’t Michael as he was off-campus all afternoon according to Amber.
The male voice came closer. They must be standing directly in front of Mrs. Ludtz’s desk. It sounded as if they were on the phone.
Phoebe backed away from the door and leaned against the bookshelf. She tried to listen. You never knew what you may learn listening at keyholes!
“It’s no problem. We will just reschedule for later this week.”
Her hand flew to cover her mouth. Good god, it was Michael!
And she was hiding in his office! This was so stupid of her, thought Phoebe. She should have just brazened it out. It would have been far easier to explain her presence in Mrs. Ludtz’s area than in the commander’s office! Dammit.
“In the meantime, I will send you my report on the possible security holes which led to the murder occurring just off campus grounds and the ways I have rectified them,” he said as he continued his call. “I am also waiting on a more detailed report of the students once suspected.”
There was a long pause.
Then Michael continued, “I’m aware. Yes. Yes. You have nothing to worry about, sir. I will be discreet.”
Her heart was beating so fast and loud, Phoebe swore it would give her away. Clenching her fists to her chest, she leaned over and hazarded a glimpse through the thin slit in the doorway.
Michael was standing in profile in front of Mrs. Ludtz’s desk on his cell. Looking sexy as hell in his dress blues, damn him. And damn the effect all men in uniform had on women, thought an agitated Phoebe.
She watched as he ended the call then leaned over to write a post-it note which he left in the center of Mrs. Ludtz’s desk calendar. He then bent to pick something up.
It was her shoulder bag.
Phoebe thought she might faint as all the oxygen left her lungs. Michael’s brow wrinkled as, holding the shoulder bag, he scanned the empty receptionist area.
There wasn’t a doubt in Phoebe’s mind that the observant Marine recognized it as hers.
Please don’t look inside. Please don’t look inside. Please don’t look inside, chanted Phoebe inside her head.
Getting caught stealing files from the King of Chinatown meant getting screamed at and possibly chased down the street by a man with a carving knife. She didn’t even want to think what getting caught by the commander meant.
His intent gaze rested on his partially closed door. Phoebe jerked back, away from the narrow opening, uncertain if he saw her.
She waited, holding her breath.
She heard a rustling of paper and the scrape of a pen. Unable to help herself, she risked another glance throug
h the doorway.
He was writing what looked like another note. He then turned and started to walk out of the office area.
Phoebe closed her eyes in relief. That was too fucking close, she thought.
She heard the click of a door. Opening her eyes, she looked again to see if the coast was clear.
Michael had closed one of the double doors. She watched as he adhered the post-it note to the front. He then closed the second door.
And locked it.
He could smell her perfume.
It was a sweet floral scent he’d noticed the first day she walked into his office. It suited her. There was no denying he wanted to learn what it smelled like on her soft, warm skin. Then he saw the shoulder bag she seemed never to be without.
She was here…and the little minx was up to something.
Writing a note sending Mrs. Ludtz on some long errand, he closed and locked the doors.
Turning back, he unbuttoned his dress blue coat. He didn’t want to be in uniform for what he was about to do. Shrugging out of the coat, he was left in his blue slacks and a silver, Under Armour t-shirt. Thinking he had let her stew long enough, Michael stepped to his office door. Laying a flat palm on its polished surface, he slowly pushed it open. His office looked quiet and undisturbed.
He was not fooled.
He had entered enough enemy encampments to know when a room was occupied.
She was here.
He scanned the room.
Nothing looked disturbed.
He took two steps onto the center of the plush carpet.
There was a slight rush of air as the minx scurried out from her hiding place behind the door and tried to bolt across the threshold to freedom.
She wasn’t so lucky.
“Not so fast,” he called as his hand lashed out, snatching her back by her slim upper arm.
He pivoted, slamming her back against the bookshelves. Blocking her escape with his own body.
She was breathing heavily but did not say a word. Just stared at him with wild, wide eyes, like a rabbit caught in a predator’s snare.
He took his time lowering his gaze over her body, from her red lips to the outline of her breasts in the tight-fitting black sweater to the shape of her hips and legs in her black slacks and leather boots. She was even dressed to be up to no good, he thought with a smile.
Placing a booted foot against her left foot, he kicked it out, spreading her legs open. He stepped forward, fitting his hips against her stomach. Her tiny frame was dwarfed by his powerful one. Sliding his hands down her slender arms, he secured her wrists and wrenched them over her head. He could smell her perfume. The old leather from the books. The faint hint of peppermint on her breath.
“Mind telling me what you are doing breaking into my office, princess?”
Her expressive green eyes flashed at the endearment.
“Don’t call me princess,” she fired back defiantly.
“Why not? The name fits. A beautiful female who stubbornly runs headlong into danger. That is how fairy tales go, isn’t it?” he responded, a wry twist to his lips.
He didn’t miss how her eyes focused on his mouth as he talked.
Still, she tried to fight him. “And what? You’re my knight in shining armor come to rescue me? To let me go?” she added hopefully.
Securing her wrists in his left hand, he ran the knuckles of his right over her cheek. “Oh, princess. This isn’t that type of fairy tale. I’m not that kind of knight. And letting you go is the very last thing on my mind.”
His mouth crashed down on hers, finally tasting those cherry red lips. His tongue swept in, teasing her own. He could feel her hips twist as she tried pulling down on her arms. Her tiny sharp teeth sunk into his lower lip. He wrenched his head back. His tongue swept out to taste the small drop of blood. The light of battle shone in her eyes and spurred him on. He could tell she was loving this test of wills as much as he.
Grabbing her jaw with his free hand, he warned her, “Bite me again and I will tear off your clothes here and now and fuck you senseless against the wall.”
Testing his resolve, she spat out, “I fucking dare you to try!”
His mouth silenced any further protest. Releasing her arms, his large hands slid over her thighs, pulling them up to straddle his hips. Rubbing his thick shaft between her legs, he tasted her moan. His left hand reached under her turtleneck to seek her warm flesh. He could feel the soft scrape of her lace bra against the center of his palm as he cupped her breast. Using his thumb and forefinger, he ruthlessly pinched her nipple through the thin lace. Phoebe cried out as her hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.
“That’s it, baby. Let me hear those cries and moans.”
Books and long forgotten awards fell from the shelves as he rocked into her. Pulsing his hips against her mons, he desperately wanted to sink his hard cock deep inside her wet heat.
Knowing it was impossible. It was the middle of the afternoon. In his office. The Commanding Officer of the Academy’s office. There were certain lines even he wouldn’t cross.
Licking her lower lip, he grabbed the soft fullness of her ass with his right hand and demanded, “Call me daddy.”
“What?” she asked, breathless and confused.
Nipping at her lower lip, he demanded, “I want hear these lips call me daddy,” as his hand squeezed her flesh.
With a challenging flash of her gorgeous eyes, she whispered, “Daddy.”
The forbidden kink of that simple word and all its wicked meaning sent a bolt straight through his cock. Ruthlessly, he harnessed the emotion for later.
Tasting the sweet peppermint of her mouth one last time, he shifted to bury his face in the side of her neck, feeling the warmth of her skin, the soft brush of her hair, inhaling the scent of her.
After several calming breaths, he reached up and unhooked her legs from around his hips, letting her slide back down to the ground, holding her by the hips till she had regained her own breath.
Her lips were swollen and bruised. The pale skin around them stained pink from her smeared lipstick. Her usually sleek hair was tangled and knotted about her heart-shaped face. She looked beautiful. Stunning.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded white, handkerchief.
Keeping his blue gaze locked on her now dark with desire emerald eyes, he lifted her sweater and placed the folded cloth against her flat stomach. Holding her eyes, he slid it past her waistband. Pushing his fingers under the fabric of her panties, he cupped her cunt.
Phoebe let slip a shocked gasp.
Running the soft, cambric fabric over those sweet lips he had yet to see, Michael pulled the handkerchief free. Flipping the fold over the wet mark, he inhaled the musky scent of her arousal.
“A remembrance,” he said before slipping the handkerchief back in his pocket.
Phoebe slipped under his arm and ran through the door.
He watched as she snatched up her shoulder bag and reached to unlock the double doors to the outside world.
“Phoebe,” he called out.
She didn’t turn but stilled.
“Later. You will tell me what you were doing sneaking around my office and what you’re really doing at this school,” he ordered. His voice still raw with lust.
Without saying a word, she unlocked the door and fled.
Chapter 8
Phoebe raced to her late afternoon class. All while the class discussed Macbeth and the deceptive motivations of Lady Macbeth and how that impacted his performance on the battlefield, Phoebe’s mind returned to Michael and what had just happened in his office.
Good god!
Raw, tear your clothes off passion like that…it just…it just didn’t happen! That was for movies and romance novels. A man doesn’t really just grab a woman and kiss her senseless. Not in real life anyway. Except this man did and Phoebe wasn’t sure she would ever recover. It was almost jarring to have your body taken over like that…used and revered at
the same time. And his kiss. It was the most all-consuming, amazing kiss she had ever experienced. It was like swallowing sunshine. All heat and energy.
And then he asked her to call him daddy. She nearly expired on the spot. It was so fucked up and wrong but she couldn’t deny the naughty thrill which tingled down her spine as he made the demand just as he grabbed her ass. It played perfectly into the reoccurring school girl spanking fantasy she had about him.
She was so fucked.
Her mind was so lost in the memory she didn’t even register the bell ringing. Phoebe gave herself a mental shake. She had to focus. She had a job to do. Waiting until the last person filed out, Phoebe pulled the copied pages from her bag. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she hoped something would click.
Neither John Drake or Robert Casey had parents in politics, still she jotted down the corporate names on the letters of recommendation and their parents’ professions just so she could double check for any connections, maybe one of these is a big defense contractor with the military. She then looked at the write-ups. Unlike what Amber implied, she didn’t see anything that screamed sociopath in training. Noticing both students’ interest in biology and science classes, she had a pretty good idea what they were actually doing with that dead squirrel. No, neither boy’s file seemed to have any red flags.
Mrs. Ludtz on the other hand…
It took all her resolve to finish her teaching obligations and not head straight back to her room to start putting together her notes and trying to make sense of her suspicion of Mrs. Ludtz. She needed to organize her notes and talk with Henry. The idea that she might be wrapping up the story and would have to leave immediately gave her a small pang. There would be no more test of wills with Michael. No more passionate encounters. She would go back to her world and he would stay in his. It was for the best. After he learned of her deception, Phoebe doubted he would ever speak to her again anyway.
She was finishing up her notes when Henry called later that evening.