Dark Notes(35)

This is a mistake. It’s Shreveport and Joanne and a goddamn slippery slope to ruination all over again.

I hold my body stock-still against hers, my fingers digging into her waist.

She’s not Joanne. This isn’t love or attachment. It’s not even sex. I’m in control, and her punishment is due.

Releasing her, I step back and calm my breaths.

I gave her the choice, and I’m a man of my word. “Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

Her face is a sheet of white as she pivots slowly and follows my order. The slim brown skirt cuts an erotic outline around her pert ass—much better than the black tarp thing she wore a few days ago. The swells of her cheeks are neither too big nor too small, proportioned with her narrow waist and perfect for my hands.

But the frayed hems and roughly faded material of her clothes are reminders that this isn’t just about what’s under her skirt. Beyond my hunger for discipline and pleasure, I feel this deep aching desire to provide for her in all ways.

“Don’t move.”

I back up and adjust the bulge behind my zipper. Stepping out of the alcove and into the main part of the classroom, I glance at the door. It’s still closed. There’s no lock, but the hinges will creak if it opens, giving me about five seconds before an intruder makes it through the room and around the corner.

As I head back to Ivory, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Irritated at the interruption, I consider ignoring it, but maybe it’ll distract me away from the mistake I’m about to make. I glance at the screen.

Joanne: I’m in town this weekend. I need to see you.

The hollow space around my heart clenches tightly. I pull a stick of gum from my pocket and gnash it between my molars.

The phone buzzes again.

Joanne: Need your address.

She’s persistent enough to find it, but she won’t get it from me.

And now I’m more worked up than I was thirty seconds ago.

I power the phone off, toss it on the closest desk, and return my attention to Ivory.

Hands flat against the wall and gaze on the floor, she hasn’t moved. Except her feet. They’re closer together, and her knees visibly shake below the hem of her skirt.

She knows this is improper, that we’re doing something we shouldn’t be doing. But I doubt she’s aware that the thrill in that risk, the chance of getting caught, is currently increasing her brain’s transmission of dopamine and heightening the excitement spiraling through her body.

The possibility of getting away with something so wickedly forbidden only feeds my beast and makes me hungrier.

I prowl closer. “Widen your stance.”

She slides her feet apart and tilts her head, as if listening for me. I soften my steps, forcing her to concentrate harder to track my approach.

When I reach her, I invade, pressing my arousal against her backside. Not grinding. Just letting her feel how well we fit together as I hold her against me with my hands on her hips. Her shoulders tighten around her ears, and her inhale catches in her throat.

I brush her hair to the side, trailing a finger across her nape, as I slide my cheek along hers. “Last chance to change your mind.”

Don’t change your mind.

Her words rush out on a shredded breath. “Just get it over with.”

My heart races as I shift to the right and slam my dominant hand against her ass. It’s just a warm-up strike, but she flies up on her toes and lets out a sexy squeak.

My cock swells, pulsing and trapped against my leg. My fingers tingle to touch her, to stroke and welt her flawless body. “Open your mouth.”

Her profile pinches. Then her lips part, hesitantly, her chin quivering with apprehension. So damn beautiful.

I remove the softened gum from my mouth and place it inside hers. She jerks back, but I hold her head and set the cinnamon adhesive between her molars with a swipe of my finger.

“Bite down.” I stroke her jaw as it flexes. “Good girl. Now hold it there. No screaming.”

I glide my hands down her thighs, stretching to reach bare skin. Her breathing quickens as I gather the skirt in my fists, inching it higher, higher, above her gorgeous butt and around her waist.

Goosebumps prickle beneath my hands as I caress the backs of her legs, the crease between her thigh and ass, and the trim of panties where they cut high on her cheeks. Hooking my fingers under the bottoms of the lacy edges, I drag the material upward, pulling the tiny scrap along her crack to expose more flesh.

Her glutes flex and twitch in my hands, and my pulse revs. She’s so soft and firm, shivery and warm. So goddamn responsive.

I want to rip her panties off for this, but a glimpse of her * would make it impossible to keep my dick in my pants.

Listening for the door, I step back. The sight of her ass trimmed with lace and the pull of the cotton cupping the titillating shape of her cunt threatens to buckle my knees.

“Four strikes,” I say gruffly and strengthen my voice. “Two on each cheek.”

She stares at the wall, her fingers curling against the bricks as a series of twitches ripples across her buttocks.

With a deep breath, I let my hand fly, applying more force this time, but I still hold back. The slap echoes through the room, and her body responds like a guitar string, stretching, vibrating, her vocal chords humming exquisitely. Then she settles, becoming stable and still.

A pink hand print blooms across her flesh. I massage the heated skin, and she wriggles her ass, only slightly, but it speaks volumes. She’s scared, probably terrified, but she’s not running or screaming or pushing me away. She’s rubbing her ass against my touch, ready for me to take her where I want her to go.