His Little Bad Girl

My problem wasn’t ever going to be my problem, until the day I was waiting in his office and felt my whole body turn to mush when he stepped in. I’d been expecting old Dr. Lindon.

  He was not who I was expecting.

  He who made me blush and tingle all over — who made me lose my ability to speak, and who made me just grin at him like a stammering idiot while my body grew warm in places that made my pulse skip a beat.

  Those piercing blue eyes. That dark hair. That body and oh my God those tattoos. He was everything I’d always secretly lusted for, which is exactly what I’ve been doing ever since that day.

  Lusting.

  Badly.

  For two months, even just passing the new Headmaster’s office door, or — fuck — hearing that deep, powerful, baritone voice of his over the intercom system was enough to make my panties soaked. Actually seeing him in the hallways was enough to get me to almost risk getting caught skipping school again so that I could get home and get my fingers to the places on my body that he lit on fire with need.

  And after two months of melting over the untouchable Mr. Knolls, I thought I was free. That is, until I found out about the bullshit classes I had to take this summer. Until I realized that while Paul and Carrie toured Asia for the entirety of the summer, I’d be here — back in West Haven, back in Thornbull, and back to turning into a wet, sticky, whimpering puddle every time my Headmaster looked at me.

  His name is Christian Knolls.

  He’s thirty-eight.

  He’s the Headmaster of my school.

  And literally everything about him makes me want to drop to my knees in front of him and worship his body. Every single thought I’ve had since that day in his office has revolved around wanting him to tear my clothes from my body, bend me over his desk, and do every single filthy, depraved, wrong thing to me that he wants to.

  My “bad” reputation at this school is all built on bullshit and stories I’ve spread myself. You see, half the school might think I’m a whore, but despite that bad girl rep, there’s just one, tiny thing:

  I’ve never actually done it.

  You know, “it.”

  Any of it actually. True story. I mean even Jon and Mike here had steady girlfriends all through school. But not me. No boyfriends, no flings, no one-night-whatevers. None of it.

  Me pretending to be bad has always just been an act — a way to distance myself from the lame, cookie-cutter crap of this town and this school. Except now, there’s one little problem: Christian Knolls makes me want to actually be bad.

  He makes me want to be very, very bad, and I want to be bad all for him.

  And today, I’m going to do something about it.

  3

  Tempest

  The cigarette trembles in my lips as I take a slow drag. I know he saw me come back here. I know because I know when he’s in his office, and I know I “snuck” behind the gym in full view of his window. I know a man like him — a firm, hard, dominant, alpha of a man — won’t be able to let something like skipping class go. I know he’ll investigate.

  I shiver again.

  I know he’ll catch me being bad, and I know what that means.

  …Or at least I hope it’s what it means.

  I know I’m wearing my skirt pulled up too high. I know I’ve got one too many buttons of my uniform blouse undone. I know I’ve got an extra layer of slick, wet, pink gloss on my lips.

  I know I’m wearing the sexiest black thong I could find at the mall last weekend.

  I know when Christian Knolls catches me skipping class and smoking behind the gym, he’s going to be mad. I know his gorgeous, chiseled jaw is going to clench and I know that his thick, muscled shoulders are going to bunch and tense, making the sexy as fuck ink around his neck and his wrists ripple in a way that makes me melt.

  I know he’s going to be punish me for being bad.

  …And then I’m going to show him just how bad I can be.

  I take another sickly drag of the cigarette, wrinkling my nose at the taste but hoping to God it’s worth it, when I see Mike and Jon pale in front of me. Mike quickly throws his cigarette away — Jon’s falls from his horrified lips.

  I feel his presence behind me even before he speaks. My body tingles, and trembles, and tenses before that deep, powerful, commanding baritone even rumbles from his lips.

  “What the fuck is this,” he hisses, the “s” sound of his words sending a lighting bolt from my ears to right between my legs and instantly soaking my panties. I pull the cigarette from my lips, biting my bottom one between my teeth and squeezing my thighs together. I can feel the sticky heat of my need for him clinging wetly to my thong and molding it to the lips of my pussy.

  “You two,” Christian growls, jabbing a menacing finger past me — I still haven’t turned — at Jon and Mike. “You two will report to vice-Headmaster Dalton’s office immediately.”

  The two dorks just stare at him with horrified looks on their faces.

  “Now, gentlemen!”

  Mike and Jon all but jump in the air, scrambling over each other to actually sprint back across the lawn to the main building.

  And then we’re alone.

  “Turn around, Ms. Kensington,” the gorgeous, dominant Headmaster growls from behind me.

  I swallow thickly, trying to force myself not to actually shiver. I drop the cigarette to the ground and step on it with the heel of one of my black wedges.

  “Tempest.”

  My name on his lips makes me break, and this time, I do shiver. And I know he see’s it. I turn, slowly, feeling my pulse beating a million miles a minute and feeling my body turn to absolute mush in front of the much older, very off-limits, impossibly sexy, rough and dominant Headmaster, who also happens to be the one man on the planet who I want to make me his.

  I hesitate in actually looking at him, but then suddenly, his arm extends, and his large, powerful fingers touch my chin. He raises it, forcing my eyes to slowly drag up every inch of his firm, muscled body until my eyes meet his.

  And I’m lost.

  “Well,” he growls, the faintest hint of a smirk on his chiseled jaw as his eyes burn right into mine.

  He doesn’t say anything else, he just lets the word sit as he stands there towering over me. His mere presence makes me so wet I’m sure it’ll actually run down my leg if I stand here much longer, and the way he’s staring at me like he’s starving and I’m a last meal isn’t exactly helping.

  Finally, the silence and him staring at me, and me getting so turned on I’m sure he can smell it on me hits a breaking point.

  “Whatever,” I say flippantly, pumping as much bratty attitude into the sneered word as possible. I want to push him, because I want him to snap. I can see the power in his arms and shoulders, and the way those hints of tattoo ink ripple under the edge of his shirt. I see the fierceness in his eyes, and the tightness in his jaw when he sets his gaze on me, and I can see the way flaunting his authority and taunting him like this pushes him right to his boiling point.

  And I want him to.

  The thought both terrifies and electrifies me like nothing else ever has. Because I want to see what Christian Knolls does when he snaps and stops holding back.

  …And I want to see what he does to me.

  “You can’t tell me what to—”

  “Watch me,” he rumbles out. Suddenly, just as I’m pulling my eyes from him and turning away, his powerful hand shoots out and clamps down on my wrist. Raw heat blazes through me, and I swear the feel of his hand on my bare skin for the first time sends a knee-shaking bolt of electricity right to my pussy.

  I gasp, my breath catching in my throat as I drag my eyes up his broad chest, up over his chiseled jaw, and then lose them in that fiery, heated gaze of his.

  “In my office, Ms. Kensington” he growls, his fierce gaze locked on me in a way that makes me squeeze my thighs together and do everything in my power not to moan.

  “It’s time you learn exactly what happens to bad girls i
n my school.”

  4

  Christian

  She walks in front of me the whole way back to my office. And I stare. My jaw tenses, my pulse roars, and my cock threatens to tear a hole in my damn suit pants as I watch that tight little off-limits ass of hers sashay under that pleated tartan skirt.

  And I swear to God, I can smell her. Maybe it’s her shampoo, or detergent, or fucking pheromones. But fuck, whatever it is is driving me insane until suddenly, I realize what it is that’s teasing my nostrils and making my head swim, and it almost makes me lose all control right there on the front steps of the school.

  It’s her pussy. I can fucking smell her sweet, tight, forbidden little cunt. It’s the smell of innocence and I growl under my breath, loud enough that she probably hears me, seeing as she jumps a little bit. My cock thickens quickly, bulging at the front of my pants as I follow Tempest down the main hallway — thankfully empty at this time of the day — to my office, inhaling the scent of her and knowing that there’s no coming back from this.

  Fuck the consequences, or the immorality of my obsession, or whatever repercussions this has. I know I’m blurring the lines between disciplining an unruly student and feeding my own lust for her, but I do not care. I’ve spent two months nearly constantly hard because of this little tease, and I won’t be denied any longer.

  I’m her Headmaster. I’m twenty years older than her. But damn the implications. Damn the blowback. She’s legally an adult, and besides that, there’s that one little nagging voice that’s been whispering in my ear ever since the day she poured herself into my world:

  Tempest Kensington is a grade-A brat. And she’s about to get a very thick, very firm dose of discipline.

  …Over my knee, on hers, and holding her fucking ankles above her head as I slide every goddamn inch of my cock into her tight little slit.

  She knows where we’re going, and I follow her, my head still swimming and my cock still taking up all the blood in my body as we step into the reception area of the Headmaster’s office. Ms. Vitney, my receptionist, smiles brightly at me, but I wave her off.

  “Hold my calls,” I mutter gruffly, barely able to speak as I watch Tempest step ahead of me into my office.

  “Actually, take a long lunch, Milly,” I say as innocently as I can, making sure to stand with her computer monitor between us, lest she see the massive bulge at the front of my suit pants. The truth is, I want to be alone with Tempest. I don’t want anyone on the other side of the office door listening in to what I’m about to do to this little tease, or worse, interrupting me.

  Milly glances sharply at my office and at Tempest who’s standing just inside, her back to the door.

  “That one,” she clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “You know what they say, Mr. Knolls. You can’t give troublemakers like that a single inch.”

  “I don’t plan to, Ms. Vitney,” I say gruffly, plastering a thin smile on my face as she gets up from her desk, gathers her lunch cooler, and heads out of the office area.

  I plan on giving her nine.

  I wait until she’s gone before I close the door to the office reception room, whirl, and storm into my office. Tempest is standing facing me, her ass against the edge of my desk and her bottom lip caught between her lips. I growl lowly, like an animal, as I close the door to my office and cross my arms over my broad chest, my eyes locked onto her.

  “Am I in trouble, Mr. Knolls?”

  She purrs it out like the little kitten she is, her eyes burning fiercely and her voice dripping sex. The blood roars in my ears, and even if I’m doing my best to resist the urge to tear her clothes off right there, bend her over my desk, and fuck her bratty little cunt into submission, it’s a battle I’m not going to be able to win much longer. Not when she’s looking at me like that, and sucking that pouty little lip like that, and dressed like that.

  Not when every instinct in my head is screaming that she wants to be here right now. She looks nervous, but not scared. She looks defiant, but not angry. This isn’t a little fuck up who’s pissed that she’s found herself in trouble in the Headmaster’s office.

  …This is a little tease, and the look on her face says she’s exactly where she wants to be. The thought has my jaw grinding tight, my hands clenching at my sides. But once I notice it, there’s no getting away from it. I might be ready to put Tempest Kensington over my knee and show her what happens to bad little girls, but that look in her eyes says one thing: she’s as eager to take the punishment as I am to mete it out.

  “Smoking. Really?”

  She shrugs, trying to look coy but instead just looking so fucking appetizing with that defiant look on her face.

  “I’m an adult. I’m allow—”

  “Barely,” I growl out, moving towards her. I can feel the heat of her small body as I get closer, like this pulsing beacon that’s dragging me closer to sin and temptation.

  She swallows, her little bravado act faltering just a little as I move closer, my much bigger frame towering over hers.

  “I’m allowed to smoke,” she says quietly.

  “No, you’re not. Not on school grounds at least.”

  I pause, my mouth tightening and my eyes leveling with her.

  “Actually, you know what? You’re not allowed to smoke anywhere from here on.”

  Her brows arch. “Says who?”

  “Me,” I growl, moving even closer to her.

  “You can’t tell me what to do,” she shoots back, her voice heavy with her breath and her chest rising and falling, her sweet, pillowing tits straining against her blouse.

  “Watch me.”

  She gasps as I move right against her, barely an inch from touching her body with all of mine. My hands move to either side of her, holding onto my desk and pinning her against it like my prey. Her breath catches, this sexy little gasp that sends a direct response right to my swollen cock.

  “Your file says you have problems with authority, you know.”

  “I’m sure it does,” she whispers back.

  “Prone to disobedience.”

  “Or maybe I just don’t like old men telling me what to do.”

  My jaw clenches tight, but my eyes flash, seeing the fire behind hers.

  She’s enjoying this. She’s enjoying playing the little fucking tease and pushing my buttons harder and harder to see when she’ll get a bigger reaction. And trust me when I say she’s about to get a very big “reaction.”

  “You just like being a bad girl instead, is that it?”

  She whimpers. She fucking whimpers when I call her a bad girl, and God help me, it takes everything I have not to shred her clothes off and claim her right there.

  “Maybe,” she breathes, her bottom lip quivering slightly as her big green eyes stare into mine. I can see the cracks her armor starting to appear — the way the eagerness behind her face stats to bloom through until her eyes are practically begging me to bury myself between her legs.

  “I hope you’re aware that in previous times, bad girls like you would be spanked by their Headmaster.”

  She whimpers again, lips tightening as she swallows. Slowly, her soft little pink tongue darts out to wet those lips, and I can feel the beast inside about to tear it’s way out.

  “Well who are we to tread on tradition?” she says quietly.

  “There are rules now.”

  “I’m not the biggest fan of rules,” she tosses back, her breasts rising and falling and her cheeks flushed red.

  “Careful,” I growl.

  “Of what?”

  “Me.”

  Tempest gasps, this sexy little breathy sound that has my cum-filled balls throbbing with need for release.

  “You think I’m scared of some new Headmaster who thinks he can just show up and—”

  “You should be.”

  “Tough.”

  My jaw clenches. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a little brat?”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re old?”

  M
y resolve shatters.

  “Turn around,” I growl.

  Tempest’s brows go up.

  “What?” she says in a shaky voice.

  “Turn. The. Fuck. Around,” I hiss, moving right against her and letting her feel every single inch of my body pressing into her. She whimpers, and I know she can feel my cock pulsing hot and hard against her belly. I move back an inch to give the space to follow through with my orders.

  “Since you seem to enjoy being a bad girl, I’m going to treat you accordingly,” I say, my voice thick with need for her. “And as you said, who are we to tread on tradition?”

  Her jaw drops as my lips pull back in a hungry smile.

  “Turn around, Ms. Kensington,” I mutter.

  Tempest’s face is bright red, and her big green eyes are glistening with something between shock and lust when she slowly nods. Slowly, like she’s still not sure this is real, she turns around.

  “Bend over,” I growl lowly, my eyes sliding up and down her lean, exposed legs.

  “W-what?” she gasps, her voice shaking.

  “Bend over the desk,” I whisper darkly into her ear, coming up right behind her. “Ms. Kensington, I’m going to show you what your old new Headmaster does to naughty little brats like you.”

  5

  Christian

  She does as she’s told, and it makes me groan as I watch my gorgeous, teasing little obsession stretch out across my big desk. Her skirt pulls up high — so high I can just see the bottom curve of the tight little globes of her ass. I can see the muscles of her legs straining tight, her blonde hair cascading around her shoulders as she rests her elbows on the desk, her back arched so seductively.

  I move behind her, and without waiting another goddamn second, I reach down, close my fingers on the hem of her pleated tartan skirt, and pull it up — all the way up, until with an animal groan deep inside my chest, her entire little peach of an ass is exposed to me.

  She’s wearing a fucking thong. I’m not sure if I was expecting something cliched like white cotton ones out of a schoolgirl porno, but there’s something so fucking hot about the very grown up black lace tucked tight between the soft globes of her ass that has me ready to tear it off with my teeth.