The Widow (Federal Hellions Book 1)

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The Widow (Federal Hellions Book 1) Page 25

by Gray Gardner


  Jane frowned when he pulled the back of her t-shirt up and she felt his warm hand stretch around her waist and squeeze tightly. When his other hand reached into the waistband of her leggings and began peeling them down she resumed her struggling.

  “Wait, Conrad, wait!” she cried, sounding a little too desperate to her own ears. She felt the coolness of the air in the room and realized he’d gotten the leggings halfway down her thighs in an instant. He didn’t say anything. Oh God, was he just staring at her?

  He bit his lip and mumbled an almost silent curse as he stared down at her. He’d seen her with her skirt flipped up and white panties, but it had been totally different then. He’d been the impassive professor doling out a punishment. Now, now he groaned in physical pain as he gazed down at the creamiest pale skin he’d ever seen, framed in dark clothing pulled away in either direction, and the roundest, chubbiest cheeks that were so cute he could barely contain the erection pushing through his pants.

  “Please wait,” she said in a softer voice. “This doesn’t feel very grown-up.”

  “My students get spanked over their underwear,” he said, lifting his right heel up and catching his breath as she slid forward, her backside pushed higher. Those pink Wellingtons swung around and it endeared her even more to him. Her soft, nearly bare lips peeked out from between her legs, though he was pretty sure she wasn’t very aware of that as she waited for her first spanking without the protection of any clothes. “My naughty little girlfriend gets spanked on her bare bottom.”

  Jane squeezed her eyes shut out of both embarrassment and anticipation, but when his hand smacked down again and again she discovered a few things. He’d been right about it not hurting all that much; it certainly hurt a little. She was feeling better about having hurt him as he told her it was all going to be over soon and they would get a second chance to show one another how much they cared. She was so embarrassed, lying there over his lap with her pants pulled down and getting spanked, but she knew he’d never humiliate her; he’d never do this in front of anyone else. It was their secret which was a little thrilling.

  Which led to the final sensation she was experiencing as he lectured and smacked his hand down—the tightness and pulling in her groin that she’d only ever felt during sex as an orgasm was building up. Oh crap, that couldn’t be right, could it?

  Conrad didn’t ever want to stop smacking and caressing her beautiful ass but he knew he had to. He’d gotten his point across on her plump, bright pink cheeks and she’d stopped fighting him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her up close to his chest, loving the matching pink on the cheeks of her round face but particularly loving the way her eyes looked up at him.

  “That’s over,” he softly said, kissing her forehead and around her face as he gently stroked along her punished backside as they sat there quietly.

  Jane felt even more chastised sitting there on his lap with her pants around her legs, but she figured that was his point.

  “I’ll never hurt you again,” she sincerely said, hoping he could see that she meant it.

  He smiled that handsome smile and gently kissed her lips.

  “I know you won’t, baby girl. I hope that wasn’t too harsh.”

  “It wasn’t,” she replied, surprising herself. She inwardly rolled her eyes and kissed him back. Why couldn’t she just say it had been horrible and was a deal breaker?

  “Do you still feel like a grown-up?” he teased, his tongue playing lightly with hers as they kissed again.

  “I feel,” she replied but paused. Actually she wasn’t sure what she felt. His hands were all over her, her ass was very warm but didn’t hurt anymore, and that orgasm she’d been building was still on deck.

  “Do you feel turned on?” he mumbled into her mouth, gently laying her back on his couch and running his hand up inside her leg. His let his fingers glide through her soft folds and groaned in delight at the amount of moisture collecting there. “Oh yes, my little sweetheart likes being a bad girl.”

  Jane wanted to protest but ended up squealing for another reason as he pushed up under her arms and slid her to the end of the leather couch, dropping his head and pressing his tongue flat on her clitoris. He kissed and moaned and flicked his tongue until she grabbed his hair and gripped it tightly as her body quivered in ecstasy.

  She’d never had an orgasm like that, then she caught her breath and looked down at him and found him ripping off her leggings and shoving his pants and boxers down, her body quivering in anticipation.

  “You’re so sweet, Jane,” he mumbled, as he kissed her neck and slowly slid into her. She wrapped her arms around him and felt his hard muscles tighten in his shoulders and back. “Oh, baby, I can’t make this last very long.”

  “Then fuck me!” she cried, wrapping her legs around him and losing all decorum as her senses overloaded with his hot, naked body on top of hers, smelling like sweat and soap and man.

  His face said it all as he desperately drilled into her, his foot pushing off of the armrest, so he could pound into her even harder. His orgasm came in a rush. Maybe it had just been too long, or maybe it was just one hot little Jane George that did it to him, but he came over and over and moaned so loudly that it came out as a feral growl.

  “Holy shit,” he declared, collapsing next to her and pulling her tightly to his chest. He stroked her hair and across her skin and anywhere else his hands could reach. They were both lying there, panting, pleased, pants off. It wasn’t how he’d envisioned their first sexual encounter, but did anything ever really transpire as planned when Jane was involved?

  “I know.” She gasped, his warmth surrounding her as they lay cuddled around one another with only their shirts on. She’d never done anything like that before but was certainly looking forward to a lot more of it.

  Jane replayed their weekend over and over in her head. How he’d caught her, explained how things were going to be, spanked her, and then banged her brains out for twenty-four hours straight. It had been hard leaving him early on Monday morning, but they both had jobs to do. And after seeing one another in several compromising positions their jobs had become exponentially harder.

  Totally worth it.

  She was waiting by the prepaid cell phone with a laptop next to her, recording software cued up and ready. The only place she could get cell reception that was private enough was the top floor of the library. And thank God it was private.

  The sun began to set and no one had called. Still? She paced around a little longer, then flipped the laptop closed and popped her neck. That night, the night, would have been a big deal to the supplier. Why hadn’t he followed up? She’d have to call it a day soon. Curfew and all. Though the thought of getting caught out of bed after hours did have a certain appeal…

  Suddenly the phone chimed on the wooden table top. George was still for a second, then frantically opened her computer and cued the program, connecting a cord to the phone and taking a breath before she answered.

  “Yes?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “So talk,” she replied, watching the sound waves dance across the computer screen. Now she had his voice recorded.

  “I think some kids are in trouble.”

  “Feeling guilty for exploiting children?” She smirked.

  “No, they’ve really gotten in above their heads.”

  “You mean you know about the two dead boys we found?” she lied.

  He was silent. Then he hung up.

  She unhooked the cell phone, jammed the laptop in her backpack, and ran for the refectory as quickly as she could. He sounded frightened and almost guilty. The cold air breezed through her white cable knit socks that weren’t any warmer than her school-issued nylons as she dashed across campus. Now she needed to know who and why. Conrad needed to hear it.

  “That’s… it sounds just like Ben Howard,” he slowly said, staring at the computer like it was wrong. She’d burst in on him cooking dinner and drinking a vintage wine. He�
�d given her a glass and a slow, soft kiss before listening to her recording.

  Where had she heard that name before? She held her arms out at him and motioned for him to continue. She needed her school roster with corresponding photos in front of her. Unfortunately, they were in her room.

  “You know, Dr. Ben Howard?”

  “No, I don’t know,” she said, pulling out her cell phone and dialing Nelson. “He’s a professor or administrator?”

  He shook his head. “I…”

  “This is Nelson.”

  “You’re on speaker,” George said, raising her brow as she looked at him, a silent hint to continue what he’d been saying.

  “Dr. Howard is the Dean of Students,” he said, shaking his head.

  “That’s our mystery man?” Nelson asked, typing on her computer in the background.

  Dr. Thomas suddenly looked a little frightened. “He’s… he’s with the kids right now at the UN Youth Council. He’s their faculty advisor, he goes every week.”

  “Don’t worry, he’d never hurt those kids,” George said, leaning over on the table and looking down at the cell phone. “Nelson, when he gets back tonight, can we bring him in with this?”

  “I’m not even sure he’ll return to campus with everything that went down. The Colombians are looking to get paid and to get even. With Clancy and Whitman out of the picture he might do something rash,” Nelson said.

  Dr. Thomas stepped back and rubbed his whiskers, worried about his students. He didn’t want them to get hurt. He’d die before he’d let them get hurt. George exhaled as she popped her neck and tried to think what the best course of action would be. Nothing immediately came to mind.

  A knock came at the door so George quickly signed off. She ran into the kitchen and paced around with her computer and wine as Dr. Thomas had a lengthy conversation with whoever had shown up on his doorstep. Would this Ben Howard really hurt those kids? He’d be an idiot. And he seemed genuinely concerned when she’d lied about Christian Whitman’s and James Clancy’s deaths.

  She had just poured another glass and sat down on the floor, leaning back against his eggshell colored cabinets when she heard the door shut and he walked in.

  “Dr. McCarthy,” he sighed, grabbing his glass and plopping down next to her on the slate floor. “She says she just talked to Dr. Howard to keep him updated on what happened over the weekend. I asked if he sounded agitated or upset or anything, but she said no, and she could hear the students in the background.”

  “Does he want to see me in his office?” George asked, sounding hopeful. She had been caught off campus, after all.

  “Well,” he sighed, sipping the red wine. “Dr. McCarthy assumed that I was taking care of it, so she told Dr. Howard that all was well.”

  “I need to get into that office,” she said, sitting up and trying to stand. She fumbled around, balancing the open laptop on her hand and the wine in the other. “I guess I’ll just break in later tonight.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Dr. Thomas grinned, standing as he watched her adjust the uniform hanging off of her body. It was a fantasy to have a woman wear a school girl outfit, but not with one of his students. With Jane George, it was a different situation. “Since they determined that the gas leak was intentional, thanks to you, they’ve since added an alarm system to the administration building.”

  “I wasn’t notified,” she frowned, finishing her glass. Most of the time alarms didn’t stop her.

  “It was just installed today.”

  “Well I know how to bypass an alarm system,” she shrugged, looking up at him with a cute frown. “Besides, don’t you have the codes?”

  “A personal code assigned to each teacher that registers and leaves a permanent record every time it’s used? Yes,” he nodded, pouring them both more wine and walking out into his living room. “I got the company to leave me a brochure today so that you could see—”

  “A Sentinel 5000?” she interrupted, grabbing the laminated papers off of his table and staring at them. “I can’t break into a building with this.”

  “That’s the point,” he nodded with a slight grin, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back on the couch. The couch where he’d recently spanked her upturned ass and then drilled her into multiple orgasms. She looked too cute blushing and looking at the same couch for him to even think straight. And the thought of her being able to bypass most alarm systems was pretty sexy.

  She slowly glanced around and then looked up at him. “Well, then how am I supposed to get in there?”

  “The old-fashioned way.” He nodded, running his fingers through her hair and kissing the edge of her soft lips. “Being naughty. Like a food fight.”

  “But…” She huffed, closing her eyes. She wasn’t able to think straight when he was so close.

  “Then think of something else. You haven’t had any problem getting into trouble so far,” he teased, running a hand down her back and squeezing her ass.

  She frowned as she backed up a couple of steps. Well, fine, no food fight. One sure thing came to mind. She knew how to get in.

  “Any ideas?” he asked, raising his brow. “I could run off a laundry list of your past offenses.”

  “I know what to do,” she said, drinking her wine and closing her laptop.

  He stood behind her and held her little body in his arms, warmth rushing over both of them. “Well?”

  “I can’t tell you,” she huffed. “Any prior knowledge to this could implicate you.”

  “What in the hell are you planning?” he asked, sounding worried and stepping back. “It can’t be anything that gets you expelled and it certainly can’t be anything that harms my students.”

  “I can’t tell you,” she repeated, looking up at him. “Trust me. It’s best if you don’t know.”

  “I mean it, Jane,” he affirmed, holding her shoulder. “Do you hear me?”

  “Quit treating me like a student,” she snapped, slapping his hand off of her. “You know I won’t hurt any of those kids.”

  “Do I?” he asked, hands on his hips. “You taught Bella how to smoke, didn’t you?”

  “Oh for God’s sake!” she yelled, holding her arms out and looking at him incredulously. “That was to earn her fucking trust. And I got it, didn’t I? So get off that high horse and slum it down here with the rest of us, Dr. Thomas.”

  She turned and grabbed her things from the table, fuming, only to find herself enclosed in two strong arms, trapped.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, sweetheart,” Conrad said, his low voice vibrating in her ear. “But you’re so careless with your own life sometimes, I don’t want you to think it’s okay to hurt other kids for the greater good.”

  Before he could finish or even revise his little speech to convey his worries in a less offensive manner, Jane elbowed his ribs and flipped him back onto his hardwood floor. He grunted as the air shot out of his lungs and the shock of the force of the floor meeting his back faded.

  “The fuck, Jane.”

  “Listen to me, shithead,” she growled, knee in his chest as she leaned over and glared down at him. He’d been more than hurtful and she was furious. “I don’t need to explain to you about oaths, and selflessness, and doing what’s right. You seem to be pretty damned pleased with your righteousness. But make no mistake, I am not the spoiled rich kid from Connecticut, the Ivy League graduate, the tenured professor with multiple doctorates, or the illustrious author. I’m a federal agent with one goal: national security. I’m not in it for the money or the fame. My only objective is to keep these kids safe. So go fuck yourself, Dr. Thomas. I’m out.”

  Affronted and furious, Conrad wasn’t about to let her have the last word with that little speech. He grabbed her arms and twisted them behind her back as he sat up, all in one quick move. Her yelp of surprise gave him dubious pleasure. On one side he wanted to put her in her place, and on the other he couldn’t wait to see her ample little ass again.

  “All right, Jane
,” he pronounced. “You’re acting like you want it so I’m going to give it to you.”

  He had her face pushed down into his gray and white area rug, her little body over his left leg, and her strong but slender legs pinned under his right. He adjusted his left arm so that the pleats of her school skirt were tucked up underneath as he held her down, then quickly yanked down her white lacey underwear.

  “Stop!” she shrieked, only able to wiggle slightly as he held her firmly. She was so mad that the only way she could express her anger was by crying. And damn it, she really hated him for that.

  “I am everything you just so eloquently articulated, Jane,” he began, letting her marinate in the fact that he wasn’t punishing her by spanking her. He was letting her lie over his knee with her behind uncovered like a bad little girl. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking that I don’t care. And I’m sorry about suggesting that you don’t. I really am. I’ve just been with these kids so long. I’ve seen them come and go, succeed and fail, and with an invested interest like that it just creates a little bit of apprehension when a saucy little federal agent comes in and promises to keep me apprised of her schemes and then suddenly cuts me out. Can you understand that?”

  Jane held her face down in the rug. She was afraid to speak because she didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing he’d made her cry. She also felt humiliated as he lectured her with her ass in full view.

  The loud smack and sting that followed didn’t help her temper, either. Growling with pure fury, she had herself twisted to the side and flung her elbow as hard as she could into his solar plexus. The pain caused him to completely stop breathing for a second, so she seized the opportunity to roll off of his lap and reach her hand into her bag as he finally began gasping for air.

  If she thought knocking the wind out of him a couple of times was going to stop him, she was mistaken. He reached forward for her as soon he was able to breathe again, but was suddenly prohibited from further progress by a Glock 17 pressed into the middle of his forehead. It was then he noticed the wet tears that streaked her pinks cheeks and small wisps of hair pressed to the wetness.

 

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