Teach Me a Lesson Read Online Free PDF

Principal Hutton.
    The second time he swatted her, she almost came.
    * * *
    EVEN THROUGH THE WOOL OF HER CAMEL-COLORED SKIRT, HIS palm tingled with the heat of her flesh. With each slap across her ass, he caressed her, learned the feel of her contours. Her moan of pleasure reached deep inside him. He burned for her.
    She laid her forearms flat on the desk, flexed her fingers, her head arching back. The action gave him a better angle, and this time his fingers slid along the crease of her pussy. He felt her contract. She balled her hands into fists. A sigh of ecstasy escaped her lips.
    “My dear Miss Moore, you’re not supposed to be enjoying this.” He swatted her again, his fingers lingering, touching, probing, caressing.
    “Oh”—she groaned—“I hate it”—she gasped—“this is awful”—she sucked in a breath—“Oh, Principal Hutton.” Her voice rose on his name.
    “Liar,” he said softly. He cupped his palm and delivered a harder blow.
    She pushed back against his hand, her body begging for more.
    He wanted to bury himself inside her. He wanted to take her right there on the desktop. Simply roll her to her back and plunge deep. But taking anything more would change the event, distort it. He wanted to savor this , the feel of her skin. And his power over her.
    “Say it again, Miss Moore.” His voice sounded strained even to his own ears.
    “Fuck.” She groaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chanted.
    He rewarded her with another slap for each time she said the word. Her legs began to tremble, her body quivered, she panted, and despite the wool skirt separating his palm from her bare ass, he felt her heat and moisture, and scented the sweetness of her come as she climaxed. Her cry was long and low, from deep in her throat. He caressed the soft, warm spot between her legs until he felt her muscles relax, her body going prone on the desktop.
    She was amazing. She made him feel amazed with himself. She’d come without even skin-to-skin contact.
    Breathing in, breathing out, she sighed. “Oh. My. God.” Each word was a separate sentence. She turned her cheek to the wood and looked up at him from one eye. “I never knew being bad could be so good.” Then she levered herself slowly up off the desk, blinked, and finally smiled. “So that’s why they’re always lining up at your office.”
    He could have pulled her into his arms, kissed her. He could have demanded that since he’d gotten her off, she had to get him off. But the moment had been spectacular just as it was. He wouldn’t alter it. He wanted to fully savor it before he took more.
    “You’re my first, my dear Miss Moore.” Despite her heels, she was still a head shorter, and he wanted to lick the column of her throat as she tipped her head back to look at him. “But that,” he said softly, “is not going to be the last.” He leaned down enough to put his lips to her ear, her hair soft against his cheek. “Because I’m absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent sure you’re going to be very bad again”—he pulled back to lock eyes with her—“and again.”
    Grabbing his jacket off the student desk, he strode to the door, unlocked it, stood with his hand on the knob. “When you choose to be bad, you have to suffer the consequences.”
    “I’ll never do it again, Principal Hutton.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling like jewels.
    He knew she was lying. She couldn’t wait to do it again. Neither could he.

4
    “I’VE BEEN VERY REMISS IN MY DUTIES TOWARD MY CLIENTS BY NOT checking out other possibilities,” Charlotte told Lola at lunch the next day. Sexual possibilities, she meant; spanking in particular. After that announcement, she savored a bite of her pastrami on rye. She didn’t regularly indulge in fatty foods, but when she went out for lunch, she savored every bite. The Dutch Bakery had the best pastrami on the San Francisco Peninsula. And the marzipan cakes tempted her from behind the glass-fronted display case, not