Teach Me a Lesson (24 page)

He had never done to a woman what he’d done to her, never made a woman scream, never made her lose herself the way Charlotte was lost in this moment. Now that he’d had it, he’d never give it up, never give
her
up.

She wailed with her release, her body bowing. If her hands had been free, she would have curled into him. Fixing him with a suddenly fervent gaze, she chanted, “Now, now, now.”

It was time. He tossed the vibrator, parted her legs and fell on her, taking her, plunging deep, pounding her with his body, her cries in his ear. She took him with the same ferocity, muscles clenching, milking, working, until he was as lost in her as she was in him. Until the orgasm that tore through him was both pleasure and pain, infinite ecstasy.

For long moments, minutes, or hours, he was aware of nothing but the heat of her skin against his and the lush feel of her pussy surrounding his cock. He didn’t know how long he’d lain flush atop her with his full weight, but he became aware of her laughter, soft, a little crazed.

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “So that’s what they mean by having died and gone to heaven.”

“I’d say it was just going to heaven,” he murmured into her fragrant hair. “We’re still alive to do it again.” And they would, over and over. This was just the beginning.

“I’ll definitely have to recommend those condoms.” She sighed. “And the position. And the vibrator. My God, I felt like I didn’t stop coming for about five minutes, but then there was a major explosion. God.”

He nuzzled her. “You moved me to greater heights.” He’d planned only to tie her to the bed and have his way with her. The rest had been inspiration, including the condoms which he’d seen at the drugstore. He hadn’t realized the effect they’d have. He didn’t know shit about kinky sex, but he sure was learning. That was an educator’s motto: You’re never too old to learn.

“But my arms are starting to feel like they’ll pull out of my sockets.”

Hell. “Sorry. I just didn’t want to pull out yet.” He reached high, fiddled with the knots—they’d come apart so much more easily in the throes of passion—then pulled her arms down to rub her wrists. He needed to get rid of the condom, too, yet he hated to leave her.

“Don’t move,” he said. She was still crashed on the bed when he returned, a pillow beneath her sexy ass, another under her head. She’d ditched the bra, though, and was now gloriously naked.

Standing in the doorway, he realized he could stay in that bed with her forever.

She turned and rolled to the edge of the bed, moving slowly, as if her muscles were sore.

“I’ll give you a back rub,” he said.

She nodded. “I have to use the bathroom.” She rubbed her face in his chest hair as she passed. It was surprisingly intimate, and his gut tightened with more than desire.

She didn’t close the bathroom door, and he could hear her, the toilet flushing, water running, then a few moments later the soft whoosh of the fridge opening. She returned with two bottles of water, hers already a quarter empty. He didn’t realize how thirsty he was until he’d gulped several mouthfuls.

She’d also brought a bottle of oil, and when she climbed back onto the bed and stretched out on her stomach, she said, “Okay, that back rub you promised.”

He went to work on her hands, arms, neck, and shoulders, along her spine, every muscle. She moaned and groaned almost as if she were climaxing all over again. His cock stirred. He massaged her buttocks, her thighs, her calves, the soles of her feet. The oil scented the air, perfumed her body, filled his head. Lavender, like the color of the room.

By the time he was done, he was throbbing again, hard, his balls aching with need. She might have fallen asleep. She didn’t open her eyes as he reached for the second condom on the side table. She didn’t protest as he spread her legs and entered her from behind. She was still slick and hot. The only move she made was to hug the pillow she was lying on. He was slow and gentle this time, taking long minutes to build the tension. She didn’t moan, didn’t make a sound until the moment he pushed a hand beneath her and found her clit.

Then she gasped, her body contracted around him, and she buried her face in the pillow as he filled her, coming as soundlessly as he did.

Her climax was no less powerful, merely different, not frantic and mind-altering, but somehow just as intimate. Like the way she’d rubbed her face against his chest.

This time he didn’t pull out to remove the condom. He simply rolled to the side, taking her with him, put his head beside hers on the pillow, and fell asleep with her in his arms.

* * *

HIS SKIN WAS HOT AGAINST HER BACK, BUT HER FRONT WAS COLD
without the blankets. Charlotte had programmed the thermostat to turn down to fifty-five degrees at ten o’clock. So it was after ten, but the clock was on the bedside table behind her. Behind him. She had no idea how long they’d slept, but they hadn’t moved much, and he was still inside her. She felt filled. Surrounded. Sated. It would have been perfect except for the heating, or lack thereof.

She hadn’t slept with a man in a long time. She didn’t sleep with men she was only casually dating, i.e., men she had sex with. The last time she’d dated seriously—meaning she saw the man for more than sex and might actually consider a relationship with him—had been eighteen months ago. The last real relationship—where she considered long-term commitment and even marriage—had been over three years. He’d also been five years younger than she was, while Lance was ten years older. The boy, which he was compared to the principal, would never have tied her to the bed; she would have tied him. Not that they’d ever done anything kinky, but she would still have liked to be the one doing the tying up. At least she’d always thought she’d want it that way until tonight. In the end, they’d parted company because he had wanted children and Charlotte wasn’t ready. She still wasn’t, and she was beginning to believe she might never be ready. She’d make that final decision when she turned forty.

Did Lance want kids?

The question shocked her fully awake.

He made a throaty rumble against her hair, hitched her closer, wrapped his arm across her middle and palmed her breast. She started to feel warm again. Comfortable. Too comfortable. As if she’d like to sleep this way all night, securely in his arms.

“I’m cold,” she said, her voice too loud in the still room. “And I have to pee.” It was blunt, unromantic. He grumbled unintelligibly, but it forced him to release her.

Free at last, she grabbed her robe off the hook on the inside of the closet door and used the bathroom. When she came out, he was in the kitchen. He’d obviously disposed of the condom in the trash and now stood naked, his body beautiful in the dim light from the hall. She had the insane urge to nuzzle her face in the soft hair on his chest like she’d done earlier. But that was before. This was now. The stove clock showed it was ten minutes to midnight.

“I’ll use the facilities, too,” he said, passing her in the hallway, running his fingers lightly across her abdomen. Her body reacted immediately, tightening, getting wet, ready.

She couldn’t remember the last time a man made her feel like this with a single touch. Maybe she’d never felt like this.

In the bedroom, she straightened the pillows at the head of the bed and pulled up the covers. She untied the rope, coiled it, and laid it on the table along with the red silk cuffs.

The first sex had been wild and crazy. But the next, after the massage, had been deliciously sensual, as if it had been one long massage, first on the outside, then on the inside.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind and nestled his face in the crook of her neck. “Mmm,” he said, as if it were a word instead of a sound.

“It’s almost midnight,” she said.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hand on her belly, round and round.

It was easier at his house because she could simply leave. Here, she had to tell him to go. But they needed to stick to the rules. She couldn’t sleep with him. She couldn’t wake up wondering if he wanted children. She couldn’t start thinking about past relationships and him all in the same dreamy state. Since he would always be the one who did the tying up. He wasn’t built to do it any other way. Which was fine in the bedroom, but as today had proved, he wanted to lord it over her everywhere, at school and in her practice. She just couldn’t allow that. Because for a moment there, he’d made her doubt herself, made her wonder if she’d handled Jeanine incorrectly, and her husband. Even her son.

So he couldn’t spend the night. It was simply too dangerous.

“Midnight is when we part company,” she said.

He stiffened against her and not in a good way. The belly rub ended. “Perhaps we should bend the rules tonight.”

“No.” It was unequivocal. It was her safe word.

“Yes. For tonight.” He reached down to pull back the covers, making a spot for them.

She tried to pry his fingers off her abdomen, but he clenched. “I will spend the night. You are my submissive and you will do as I say.”

“I’m not your submissive after midnight. That’s what we agreed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s midnight. I’m not driving home. I’m staying here.”

She wriggled furiously. “Like hell you are.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Holding her tightly with one arm, imprisoning both wrists, he grabbed one of the ropes she’d rolled up.

It had been a sexy fight before, bucking on the bed, fighting him. Seriously, she’d tried to stop him, but she’d enjoyed his triumph over her. This was completely different.

“No. I mean it.” She tried to kick back, but he lifted her off her feet and fell down on the bed with her.

It was almost frightening to realize the strength of a man, despite the fact that she knew he would never hurt her. She couldn’t pry her hands loose. She couldn’t kick him off. In a matter of seconds, her wrists were bound and he’d secured her once again to the headboard. Her robe was up past her waist, and he was hard against her backside.

He reached back to turn out the light, then pulled the covers over them, curled an arm beneath her breasts, and put his lips to her ear. “Now, isn’t that much more comfortable than sleeping alone?”

God, it could be good, far too good. “I am seriously pissed,” she said.

“Admit it, you wanted me to spend the night. I made it easier by forcing the issue.”

That was the worst part. He was right. She wanted him to stay. She wanted him wrapped around her all night long. She wanted to wake up in the morning to the feel of him inside her. She wanted to make him peach pancakes for breakfast.

That was why he had to go.

Except that the principal wasn’t going anywhere.

She lay stiff in his arms until his body slackened into sleep, his arm deliciously heavy across her, his length warm along hers. His rhythmic breathing against her neck lulled her.

God, yes, she wanted it. But to have it, she had to accept everything else about him. He wanted to take care of her, protect her, fight her battles for her as if she weren’t capable of fighting them herself.

He was a dangerous man. She couldn’t control him. He would simply have to go.

* * *

LANCE HAD UNTIED HER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. SHE HADN’T
thrown him out, but she’d gone to the bathroom and returned wearing a pair of sweats.

He’d told himself he would fix things in the morning, but when he awoke, she was gone, leaving him a terse note on the kitchen counter.

I’m at the gym. Please be gone by the time I get back.

At least she was polite. He couldn’t believe he’d slept through her leave-taking. Then again, last night had been one hell of a workout.

All right, perhaps he’d made a mistake tying her to her own bed in her own home. It might have worked better in his house. If she hadn’t run out, he’d have explained that it was all part of the persona, dom and sub, master and slave, student and principal. It was a game, a role play.

But he knew it wasn’t. He’d intended to force the issue. He’d intended to spend the night. And he’d intended to use any means to pull it off.

The mistake he’d made was that it was too soon.

Lance would have stayed to hash it out, but he was sensible enough to realize that if she saw his car out front, she’d simply drive past. Yet it was too demeaning to move it down the street and out of her sight.

No, the best plan was to let her cool down. He’d call her tonight. Or perhaps let her have the weekend and call Sunday night. Yes, that was the better idea.

He would talk her around. After that out-of-this-world sex, he didn’t have a doubt that she’d be back for more.

20

“YES, IT WAS A BIT CHILDISH TO WALK OUT AND LEAVE HIM ALL
alone,” Charlotte agreed.

She’d called Lola for an early morning trip to the gym. Gray had paperwork to finish before Monday, so he’d said it was fine that Lola go. There was something about the phrasing that rumbled in Charlotte’s belly, as if Lola needed Gray’s permission to do something as ordinary as working out. Then again, Charlotte’s irritation could be attributed to her frame of mind, and the real meaning behind Lola’s words—and Gray’s answer—was simply courtesy.

They were now racing up and down hills on their programmable stationary bikes. Still seething, Charlotte wasn’t breathing hard just from the hills. “But he needs to be taught a lesson. He can’t just bully me.”

“Right, so now you have to talk to him about it later,” Lola said reasonably, “instead of getting the discussion out of the way.”

Charlotte ignored that. “Here’s what really bothers me.” She launched into a litany of Lance’s transgressions. He wouldn’t let her deal with Smith. He ordered her not to talk to Eric. He decided how to handle Melody and Eric without consulting her. He even blamed her for the fact that Eric had shown up at her office as if she’d actually invited the boy there. And he’d tied her to the bed when she told him to leave. She didn’t add that he’d made her begin to think she’d mishandled everything.

“I love it when Gray ties me to the bed all night long.” Lola smiled, a seductive, inner-directed smile that spoke of all the things Gray did to her while she was restrained.