Headmistress: A Greenbridge Academy Romance Page 7

  “I know you have a strong jaw, Miles, but you might need to use your hands—oh!” The sensation of his wet mouth covering my nipple sends a shock wave of pleasure across every inch of my skin. My body heats under his attentions, and the flicks of his tongue over my sensitive peaks have me at a loss for words. He’s had practice at that kind of trick, nudging away someone’s bra using only the muscles of his face. Good. It doesn’t turn me off to know he’s more experienced than me.

  In fact, the blooming moisture in my panties tells me that the idea that I’m about to get fucked by a more experienced and younger man than me turns me on even more.

  Soon, he repeats the same trick with my other cup and lavishes that nipple with similar attention.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he says in a hoarse half-whisper, his words vibrating against my already-electrified flesh.

  “You say that like I’m not half-dressed and as if we’re not having some kind of tawdry, sneaky affair.”

  Between kisses and licks and nips over my tight buds and caresses to my upper thighs under my skirt, he mutters, “You have no idea how fucking sweet and hot you look with your clothes askew. I’m gonna show you so hard how hot you make me.”

  I draw in a breath of shock combined with arousal when he pulls my panties to the side and slides a finger into my slit. “You’re soaked for me, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna explode if I’m still not inside you within another minute.”

  Miles hikes up my skirt around my waist—for the second time in as many weeks—and frantically we both push and pull at my panties.

  “Don’t rip them. I bought these for you on a teacher’s salary,” I say, my voice suddenly husky with need.

  “Headmistress salary.”

  “Still not an attorney.”

  “I got you, baby,” he says as he attentively, tenderly rolls my panties down my legs and watches with reverence as I step out of them.

  He stands back upright and shocks me again by hoisting me up in his arms and setting me back on the countertop.

  “Give me your legs,” he growls. I don’t know why but it seems to make me hotter when he says that, my thighs now slick with the constant drip of my arousal. He slips one of my thighs over his shoulder, then the other.

  From this position I can’t reach the front of his trousers, and he notices my scrambling hands trying to get at his belt.

  “I got this. You just hold tight to the faucets.”

  My brain forgets where I am for a minute before registering what he means. I understand and grab on to the water faucets on either side of where I am, my ass nestled between two sinks.

  From this position I can’t reach him, I can’t touch him with my hands, but only watch him free his cock from the confines of his trousers.

  His pants and boxer briefs pushed down and sitting loosely on his hips, his cock springs up, large, pink, and throbbing, a tiny, glistening tear of precum at the tip.

  “I want to touch it, please,” I say.

  “Keep your hands where they are,” Miles commands.

  My eyes widen at his tone, but he smiles, his eyes sweeping over my body.

  “I wish you could see what I see, baby,” he says, his eyes hooded, casting over my skin and up into the mirror behind my face. “Never thought the day would come when I was looking at myself in the mirror with Ms. Moody’s legs wrapped around me.”

  I can hardly stand it any longer.

  “Miles, please,” I beg.

  Finally, after a tortuous minute of his eyes traveling over me while he wraps himself up with a condom that appears from the inside pocket of the suit jacket he still wears, he circles my warm, wet need with the tip.

  “Miles, I should probably tell you something…”

  17

  Miles

  I don’t need to look at my face in the mirror to know what kind of signal she’s getting from me.

  Martha has just admitted to me that she’s a virgin and I can tell by the look on her face that she was scared to tell me. Scared that I would want to stop everything right here.

  But all I feel is grateful.

  All the tension in her beautiful face dissipates.

  “Thank you, lovely,” I say, my cock in position, my hands reaching up to cup her jaw. “This isn’t where I would have liked your first time to be, so if you want me to stop…”

  “No,” she whines. “I need you. I trust you. The only thing that matters is that it’s you.”

  I nod, and then place tender kisses all along the inside of her thigh.

  “I am fucking crazy about you, Martha,” I say as I stretch her pussy walls out with my two fingers, now knowing how untouched she is. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  I slide the tip in then, inch by agonizing, heart-pounding inch, waiting to feel her resistance.

  “But I don’t feel a cherry. Are you sure—”

  Martha exhales out a little laugh as her walls clench on me with a grip that makes my balls ache. I growl out something unintelligible.

  “Silly boy. I may be a virgin, but the cherry went the way of the dodo many, many vibrators ago. So no worries about that mess.”

  I nearly blurt out the words, “I love you,” but I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself.

  Instead I focus my energy on sliding all the way in, slowly. With her legs up on my shoulders, my dick glides in deeper than I ever thought possible. My cock throbs as her eyes roll back into her head.

  “God, you’re so fucking tight, Martha,” I breathe, reveling in the feel of her pussy taking in all of me down to the hilt. I groan as I pull out and push back into her slowly again, careful not to knock her head against the mirror.

  “So good,” she moans. “So glad I waited, even if I didn’t know I was waiting for you.”

  I push back in slightly harder. “You’ve been a bad girl, Martha,” I growl as I thrust in and out with slightly more force each time.

  “Hmm?”

  “I saw what you did in there. I saw you cut your eyes over at that meathead sitting next to you.”

  Her voice turns into a cat’s purr. “I did no such thing. I was just disappointed you didn’t like me playing footsie.”

  “Footsie is one thing. That was a full-on foot job.”

  “What’s a foot job? I think you made that up,” she says with an edge of snark to it. An edge that I pound out of her when the next thrust has her gasping for breath. “Oh! Oh God! So good!”

  “A word of advice, Martha,” I say as I pull out and push in again with a sudden slowness. I punctuate every word with a slow, firm thrust that has her back arching up off the countertop more and more each time. “Don’t. Ever. Try. Making me. Jealous. Again!”

  I ramp up the speed of my thrusts and go to work on her clit with the pad of my thumb. At this contact, her back arches up so high that her soft, blushing tits are nearly falling upside down. I need to taste them again, taste her mouth. I hold back my orgasm for as long as it takes to build her up to her climax.

  “My sweet Martha,” I whisper as I watch her writhe under my attention to her tight, throbbing pussy.

  Finally, sweat from the back of her knees drenching my shirt, her back arches so high I can see her hot breath steaming the mirror, her orgasm blasts through her body like a rocket.

  I let loose as the familiar tightening in my lower back signals my release. My balls clench up and I’m jetting into her with one guttural roar.

  We pulse and writhe together, both of us forgetting where we are. She cries out with her release, her involuntary spasms milking everything out of me. My cum, my ability to form coherent thought. Everything.

  I love this woman. I do. I’ve never loved anyone else. I never will.

  18

  Martha

  The way Miles holds me after our mind-blowing, nearly back-breaking fuck in the restroom at his office told me everything he wasn’t letting himself say.

  It’s okay. He’ll say what he needs to say when he’s ready.

  And the
way he kisses me is better than words. Miles delivers sweet, tender kisses all over my face. My chin, my lips, my nose, my forehead, my eyelids. I’m spent, but my body and soul still swoon under his tenderness.

  When I open my eyes again, my bra is back to doing the job of holding up my breasts, my shirt is buttoned and my skirt is smoothed back down to where it started this morning.

  Miles lifts me off the countertop and sets me gently on the floor, my arms still circling his neck. I weave my fingers through the short wavy hair at the back of his head while he leans down to touch our foreheads together. Both of us are still shaking and catching our breath.

  “That was fun but I like being close to your face.”

  “Yeah?” he says with a boyish grin.

  “Yeah…you smell good and I like your lips and your scruff and your teeth and your tongue.”

  “Next time we’ll just kiss and cuddle on the sofa then,” he threatens and gives me a deep, loving kiss.

  I laugh. “Well, I’m pretty hooked on the Big D now too, so don’t think about taking that away from me.”

  The kissing, laughing and petting continue until a thud on the door yanks us back to reality.

  “Occupied!” Miles shouts.

  The person knocking on the door then speaks. “McRae, I’ll see you in my office in five minutes, please.”

  Miles’s expression changes to one of terror and guilt. I know that look. I see that look every time I catch a student in the act of doing something to get them suspended.

  He grits out, “Yes, ma’am.”

  I cover my mouth. “I’ve gotten you in trouble with the partners, haven’t I?”

  He shakes his head but his expression does not change.

  “No, you’ve done nothing wrong. I just have to get you out of here with your dignity intact, so hold tight,” he tells me, pecking his lips against my cheeks, hair, hands.

  In the end, he waits a minute and peeks his head out the door. “Coast is clear, you go to the right, toward the side stairs and I’ll go to Garcia’s office and accept my fate.”

  “What’s she going to do to you?” I ask warily.

  Miles kisses me again, firmly, ardently, reassuring me that, “Everything is going to be all right. I’ll call you tonight.”

  On the way home, I make a decision. I can’t continue with this case. I’ve stood my ground long enough. I’m going to leave the statue where it is.

  19

  Miles

  “Shut the door, Miles, and have a seat.”

  I step into Garcia’s office and sit down, feeling like my heart is hammering so hard it might explode all over the pristine white couch and white-on-white patterned area rug.

  “I’m reassigning the case,” Garcia says.

  “What? Why?”

  She gestures out the window to the view overlooking the city. “Do you know how I got where I am? How I started this firm? I had to be above reproach, every step of the way. My reputation was utterly spotless and it still is. And even so, I still get accused of sleeping my way to the top and any other number of unethical methods. Have you ever known me to fuck any of my clients?”

  I swallow hard. “No.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. One more question. Do you think I have ever fucked a person who is being sued by one of our clients? Do you think that’s even a possibility for me?”

  “I’m guessing no.”

  “So you’ll understand my concerns, Miles. I’m giving the case to Bryant.”

  “Bryant? He…”

  She leans forward in her chair. “You are lucky that I was the one that heard you dicking the defendant in the bathroom before anyone else did. I could fire you over this. Clearly you’ve not got our best interest or the client’s best interest at heart.”

  “The client is a dickweed.”

  “A dickweed with money. That’s all I care about.”

  “Then it probably won’t matter to you that I’m not just fucking around. I love that woman. I’m going to marry that woman.”

  She stands and goes to the window and looks out. “All the more reason to fire you. You should have disclosed this to me immediately so I could give the case to someone else. Now—”

  The noise from her phone cuts off our discussion.

  She looks down at the screen. Her mouth falls open, slightly. She shakes her head, takes a deep breath and types a reply. When she puts her iPhone back on her desk, she folds her arms across her chest and laughs, not without a tinge of bitterness.

  “Well. That was opposing counsel. They dropped the case.”

  “What?”

  “Apparently, your girl has just informed her attorney that she’s going to leave the statue up, and the Chamberlains are satisfied.”

  This seems too good to be true, but I don’t tell her that.

  “Am I free to go?”

  “Yes. And you’re being suspended pending an internal investigation of your relationship. We’ll need passwords to your office computer and all your work-related devices.”

  “But the case has been dropped.”

  “Yes, and now you’re a liability. I need to make sure this is not a pattern with you.”

  I stand up, my voice shaking because I know she’s right. I was wrong to sleep with Martha while working on this case. I knew it from the beginning. “Would it be easier on you if I just quit now?”

  She gives me the once-over and says, “I know this is the part where I’m supposed to jump in and act like the maternal boss and tell you everything is going to be okay, and don’t you dare quit because you’re indispensable. But the truth is, I’m going to have to get back to you on that.”

  20

  Martha

  Is it possible that a really good fuck suddenly makes everything more clear?

  Because when I arrive back at school after my deposition, I know exactly what I’m going to do.

  Back at my office, I say hello to the staff, head straight to my office and close the door.

  The Chamberlains are really going to hate this. I create a few pages of notes for myself, and a handout in case anyone is curious.

  I then buzz the assistant headmaster and the head of the art department to come into my office.

  When they are all assembled in my office, I inform them of my plan. “We are not going to take down the statue. We are educators. We are going to use this as a teaching moment.”

  When I explain my plans, they are slightly wary but I win them over.

  I ask them to gather supplies and to help me prepare a special presentation for the students after school.

  And then, I call Ms. Degrassi for a quick phone conversation.

  “We’re not going to take the statue down,” I tell her. “I changed my mind.”

  She’s quiet for a moment and then says, “Glad I could help you come to your senses.”

  Wow. She’s actually going to take credit for my mind changing. “Oh, sweetie. It’s not you. It was me. I had already decided this before I even met you.” It’s kind of a lie, but not exactly. I’d mulled this idea over many times but had never let it surface.

  She huffs at my reply. “By whatever means necessary, as long as it’s staying up and we don’t have to put the school through any more drama."

  “Wait,” I say before she hangs up. “Don’t you want to know what we’re going to do with it?”

  She sighs, anxious to get off the phone. “Look, I don’t care if you put clown makeup on Scary Mary, I’ve gotta go meet with a corporate client of a for-profit company that pays a hell of a lot more than Greenbridge, okay? The tuition we pay for this school, you shouldn’t even be charged a non-profit rate…”

  This piques my interest. Specifically the interest of my more savage days as a debate coach.

  “Really? Well, Ms. Degrassi, I would hate to see the women’s swim team go away, wouldn’t you? Or the budget for the theater. I’d hate to do away with superfluous funding for things like attorneys on retainer. But if we charged less for
tuition, that might be just the kind of thing that happens. Or, alternatively, you could step in and volunteer to run the swim team as an independent club, staffed and coached and administered by the parents, and we would grant you the Greenbridge logo and we could lease the pool to you…”

  She mutters in agreement. “All right. You’ve made your point.”

  But I’m not done. “You see, Ms. Degrassi, it’s the parents’ demands that has made Greenbridge what it is today. If you think it’s too much, then by all means, my advice to you is to lower your standards.”

  More silence, and she bids me a short goodbye before hanging up.

  “Have a lovely afternoon!” I say to no one.

  * * *

  I’ve had the teachers gather all the students for an assembly at the lake to unveil my special project.

  After I give a short talk, I have several volunteers to help me decorate the statue.

  The middle school and high school female students are especially enthusiastic about the process.

  When we’re finished, Scary Mary isn’t scary anymore. She looks like a proper 14-year-old girl. She has long hair, wears headphones, and her downcast eyes appear to be reading an open book that’s been attached to her one hand. Her other hand that’s raised in the air appears to be asking for someone to be still while she finishes reading a chapter. Instead of robes, she’s been painted to look like she wears a school uniform cardigan, necktie and a matching plaid skirt.

  I see someone else at the back of the crowd looking larger than all the students gathered around, and totally out of place.

  Miles.

  After everyone leaves to go home, he strides up to me and lays a deep, messy kiss on me like nobody’s watching. Someone is probably watching, but neither of us care anymore.

  “After all this? Why?”