This person is exceptionally dull. They’ve been married for forty years and spend weekends collecting bird feathers. I snort at the idea of a man skulking through the woods trying to find the feather of a bird that’s eluded him for decades.
Sighing, I run my fingers through my loosely styled hair. I was so annoyed with having to be back in this building I forgot to add my styling gel. I check my watch— today’s band matches my gray three-piece Tom Ford suit. There are still another four hours left in my day.For fuck’s sake.I want to punch myself for coming up with the idea of staying in my position. I could be working on my grad school portfolio or hitting the gym. Maybe even rubbing one out since I can’t have sex with my usual hate fuck.
It’s been far too long since I’ve had a beautiful woman at my mercy. I never played with Vivian. After finding her riding my father’s dick with my engagement ring on her finger, I fucked anything with legs and a pussy between them. It wasn’t until I went with one of the guys from the frat house to this BDSM club that I learned how much I needed control after everything happened— how much I loved the idea of determining when and how often a woman is pleasured. The height of euphoria on a woman’s face when she’s riding your tongue and coming for the seventh time in a row or how distraught she looks when you take her right to the edge over and over and over again.
I wonder for a moment what the spitfire would look like riding that edge for a whole night. I can picture the frustration in her slate eyes and the anguish on her face when her orgasm eludes her time and time again. The way she’d claw my back as I make her crash over into oblivion once I finally let her taste what was just out of reach for so long.
Groaning, I reach up and rub the back of my neck. I really shouldn’t be having thoughts like this at school or about a student. It doesn’t matter that we’re only four years apart. Until I’m done here, she’s off limits in the only way I can ever allow myself to have her. The others can fall— I won’t allow myself to make that mistake ever again.
There’s a knock on my door, interrupting my thoughts. It’s for the best, though. The last thing I need at school is a case of blue balls.
“Come in,” I announce.
My door opens and the girl I was just telling myself was off limits walks through. I have to bite the inside of my cheek until it bleeds to prevent myself from pulling my lips between my teeth. Ariah Bish-Bradford is gorgeous.
“Hello, Mr. Grant,” she says, walking fully into the room and thankfully leaving the door open.
I grunt at the sound of Mr. Grant on her lips and imagine her calling me ‘Sir.’
Closing my eyes, I massage my fingers against my forehead.Get your shit together, Bash.
“Now, we’ve had this talk already. Please call me Sebastian,” I instruct, my voice firm, and I see scarlet dust her cheeks. How prettily she turns red. I can almost imagine the shades of pink I could turn her luscious ass while she rides my fingers.I’m fucked.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “How can I help you?” I’m proud that I’m able to hide the hitch in my breath as her elegant throat bobs.
“I wanted to discuss a plan to complete my makeup assignments,” she whispers initially, but gains her confidence by the end of her request.Do I make the spitfire nervous?
I’m reminded of the first day of school when she looked like a deer in headlights when she walked into the office. She had the same doe-eyed look. I had fun toying with her then, but I know nothing good will come from me toying with her now. I’m barely hanging on as it is.
Nodding, I state, “Each of your teachers was briefed about your absence and expects to hear from you. Take this form, and have each one fill it out with clear instructions on how and when your assignments should be done.”
She saunters into the room. The sway of her hips enraptures me. It’s not purposefully done to seduce, making it much more enticing. Her hand reaches for the paper from my outstretched one, and our fingers brush, and a jolt of something shoots through me at the quick light connection of our skin.
I snatch my hand back, but my gaze never leaves hers, stuck in a forcefield that refuses to let either one of us break our stare. I can see the dusting of freckles by her right eye and the way they darken as she takes me in.
A throat clears, and we both jump, our trance broken. I look to sneer at the uninvited intruder at such a moment, and I’m met with Vivian fucking Taylor’s stern glare. Dare I say she looks almost feral, her upper lip pulled up, exposing her teeth? She’s definitely a mood killer, and I can’t tell if I’m glad or pissed off at her presence because it stopped whatever that was.
Returning my attention to Ariah, “If you have any trouble with any of your teachers, please let me know. They’ve all been made aware that they should give you enough time to catch up.”
“Thank you,” Ariah mumbles and darts out the door without so much as a backward glance.
“What the fuck was that, Bash?” she demands.
Standing from my seat, I grab my suit jacket, deciding I’m done here for the day. We have a meeting about the rules for our courting dates later anyway.
Once my blazer is on, I put the files away, locking them up and still ignoring the rash that is Miss Taylor.
“Did you not hear me?” she screeches, ready to cause a scene.
Now that everything is away, I grab my satchel and finally bring my attention to her.
“That was you getting the fuck out of my office and not questioning me,” I command, pushing her outside and securing the lock before striding past her stunned face.
I yank the main office door open and notice Brian Porter standing on the other side “Can I help you?” I hope he’s not here for anything serious, I can’t stand the sniveling shit.
“I, um,” he stumbles.
Sighing, I reign in my annoyance. “How can I help you Mr. Porter?” I try again.
