Teach Me a Lesson (32 page)

How the hell was he supposed to get to her? He’d told her he loved her. She’d repeated the words. He was even sure she’d meant them. Yet she was holding back. Talk didn’t work with her. Only issuing orders did. As long as he did it only in the bedroom. As long as it was on her terms.

How could he use that to his advantage?

Turning into his driveway, he punched the garage door opener and maneuvered into his usual spot. She parked on the drive behind him.

Lance didn’t wait for her, entering the laundry room off the garage and heading into the kitchen. He threw his keys on the counter, emptied his pockets of wallet, comb, change.

“I closed the garage door.” She stood in the laundry room, a silhouette of curling hair and full breasts against the windows behind the washer and dryer.

The darkness was sweet. It hushed everything, turned the atmosphere more intimate. “Go to my bedroom.”

“Where is it?”

He’d imagined her in his bed so many times that he hadn’t realized he’d never had her there. Not sure she could see him clearly in the light of the moon, he pointed anyway, indicating a doorway off the laundry area. “Down the hall and to the right. It’s on the end.”

She moved obediently. He followed. By the light of the moon falling through the floor-to-ceiling windows along one side of the bedroom hallway, she made her way to the room at the end. Entering, she passed his closet, then stood at the end of the bed. Latticed windows with low sills filled two walls. On the other side of the bed in a small alcove lay another closet, built-in drawers, and a vanity. To the right of that, divided from the bedroom by the wall behind his bed, was the master bath.

His furniture was dark wood, a Chinese style that was more masculine than feminine. The bedspread was dark blue, with only two pillows at the head. With her in the room, he suddenly realized how girlie it would have been without his furniture. The latticed windows were meant for lace curtains instead of the utilitarian blinds he’d hung. The vanity cried out for a woman’s makeup and jewelry, and the built-in drawers had been designed for lingerie. He saw clearly for the first time that it was a couple’s room, his and hers.

He’d been missing the female side. No wonder the house had always seemed too big, always a little empty. He needed Charlotte to fill it.

He didn’t close the blinds. His fences were high enough to protect against prying eyes. Stepping past her, he switched on a bedside lamp to its lowest setting.

When he turned, somehow the scoop neck of her dress was lower, her breasts plumper, the dusky color of her nipples almost visible. She’d slipped out of her shoes and seemed impossibly petite, irresistible.

“We need some new rules,” he said.

“Like what?” Her eyes sparkled in the lamplight.

“Whenever you say no to me, I spank you.”

“No,” she said quickly.

“Does that mean no, I can’t spank you, or no, you want to be spanked right now?”

“You’ll have to figure that out, Principal Hutton.”

Ah yes, she wanted the spanking. But he wasn’t done with the rules. “Outside of business hours, you’ll be at my beck and call.”

“Yes, Principal Hutton.”

“You’ll spend the night.” He waited for the no on that one.

It never came. “Whatever you want, Principal Hutton.”

That was an improvement. She wanted to sleep in his bed, to wake up beside him in the morning.

He knew where she needed to be when he told her everything he wanted. When he dropped the role play and begged. When he bared his soul. It was time to get her there.

“Tell me the secret,” he demanded, knowing exactly what her answer would be.

Just as she knew exactly what secret he wanted. “No, Principal Hutton. That’s breaking my client’s confidentiality.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’ll never tell.”

He pointed a finger. “Just remember you’re asking for this by your willful disobedience. It hurts me more than it hurts you. Now take off your panties and hose.”

She reached beneath her dress and gracefully rolled everything down as if she’d had all the practice in the world, after which she tossed the bundle aside.

“Get on the bed,” he snapped. “Hands and knees.”

She smiled wickedly, knowing what the sight of her bare legs and plump breasts did to him. “Yes, Principal Hutton.”

Once in position, she pulled the dress to her waist without even being asked.

He damn near forgot what he was trying to accomplish. Her round cheeks beckoned to his hand, yet the ripe folds of her pussy begged for so much more. He wanted to sink deep inside her and stay there forever.

He willed himself to follow the plan, as undefined as that plan may be. “Are you going to tell me the secret?”

“No.”

He swatted her, hand cupped, fingers connecting with the sweet, moist center of her. She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She simply let her head fall forward and moaned.

“Oh, Principal Hutton,” she sighed.

“I’ll ask you one more time.”

“The answer is the same. No.”

He brought his hand down again. She shivered and pushed back, leaving his palm wet with her sweet juice. Lance licked his skin, tasting her. She was right. He would need to play her dom. He would always want this, his hand on her, her moans filling the air around him.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

“No. I won’t tell. No, no, no.”

He spanked her hard for every word. Her rump was red, her pussy wet, her breath fast, and her moans loud. She tossed her head and said it again, “No, no, no,” goading him.

“I’m always going to test you,” he told her, swatting again. “I’m always going to ask, just so you’ll say no. Then I can do this.” His cock was long, full, and aching in his trousers. He could have taken her now. But he wasn’t done, far from done. “I’m going to tell you to do things so you’ll stand up to me and say no.”

Charlotte needed to say no. She needed independence. She needed to be master in her own purview. He didn’t want to take that away from her.

“No, no, no,” she chanted. He gave her what she wanted until her body trembled, until she couldn’t form the sound anymore, until she was a creamy dish beneath his hand.

“I’m ordering you,” he murmured, not knowing if she was even capable of hearing him, “to defy me. To never let me take over.” His hand connecting hard, he felt her shudders communicate themselves up through his arm, to his chest, his heart. “To say no to me.”

She gushed for him, cried out, fisted her hands in the bedspread, threw her head back, hair cascading over her shoulders. He kept his hand on her, his fingers cupping her pussy, working her, until finally she collapsed on the bed.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, eyes closed. “That was so good.” She lifted her head slightly, cracked one lid. “Can I say no again right away?”

He smiled. “Yes.” But had she understood what he was giving her?

He’d told her he loved her, but he hadn’t bared his soul for her yet. If he wanted her, he was going to have to give her everything.

* * *

CHARLOTTE FLOATED IN ORGASMIC BLISS. SHE’D LOVE TO SAY NO
again, but she honestly didn’t have the strength to move. She could barely open her eyes when she felt him stretch out beside her.

His voice rumbled somewhere close to her ear. “I’ll probably always give you my opinion, Charlotte.” He gently pulled her dress down over her hip. “But you can always say no to whatever I suggest. You should know I respect your work. Always have, always will.”

She could feel the thump of her heart in her chest, its rhythm slowing as she came down off the high. He was not a dom now. He wasn’t the principal. He was a man. And he was telling her the things she needed to hear. He was telling her he understood. That he knew her. That her fears had meaning. They weren’t just something a silly woman felt.

She opened her eyes, searched his face, read his sincerity in the darkness of his gaze. “My work is important.”

“I know.”

“The decisions I make can’t always be understood without sitting through session after session, without hearing everything a client or student says to me.”

“I understand.”

She bit her lip. “But I’m afraid of being wrong. And I don’t like to admit that.”

He didn’t touch her beyond his hand resting on her hip. “I didn’t fall in love with you because you were perfect.”

She hadn’t fallen in love with him because he was perfect for her, either. He was exactly what she didn’t want. But maybe he was everything she needed.

She put her fingers to his lips. “We never listen to the ones we love,” she said softly. “But maybe I can turn over a new leaf and at least discuss something without feeling that you’re telling me I’m wrong.”

“I’m a controlling asshole,” he said.

She leaned in to nuzzle his cheek, touching her mouth lightly to his. “Not that I’m discussing patient confidences with you, but a client recently discussed his or her significant other in those terms, and I have to say that you are far from being a controlling asshole when compared to that person.” She tipped her head back to meet his gaze. She’d told many of her clients that sometimes you have to give up something to get something. Relationships were always a compromise. She’d never listened to her own advice. If she compromised just a little bit more, she could have the whole man. She could have everything. “I might be willing to admit that I’ve been too hasty in judging the things you say to me. I’m going to have to change that. I might even be willing to listen to you.”

He brought her hand to his lips, kissed the tips of her fingers. “I’m willing to admit that I overdid the role playing and issued too many orders. I’m going to have to change that.”

“I like orders.” She blinked, smiled. “I like the spanking. I like it when you throw me down on the bed, fall on top of me so I can’t move, and tie me to the headboard.”

He glanced up. His bed didn’t have a headboard. There were shelves and cubbyholes, stacks of books, the clock, a reading lamp. But no posts to tie her to.

“Looks like I’ll have to buy a new bed.” He held her chin in his big hand. “Because how will I make you spend the night if I don’t have anything to tie you to?”

“You don’t have to tie me up,” she said softly. “I’ll stay the night.”

“How many nights?”

“As many as you want.”

“How about all the rest of our nights?”

She held her breath. She didn’t know exactly what that meant. Was he proposing? Or was this just moving in? Or was it . . .

Damn, she was overanalyzing again. “Yes.”

His eyes glittered. “But if you say no to me about anything, I can still spank you.”

“No,” she said emphatically. “No, no, no,” she went on as she pushed him back on the bed and began removing his clothes.

26

CHARLOTTE WAS ASTOUNDED. DURING EACH OF THE LAST SIX
weekly sessions, she’d encouraged Jeanine to bring her husband. Even if it was for one meeting. Charlotte just hadn’t figured that David Smith would ever agree.

Yet here he was, taking time off work on a sunny mid-January day. As far as winter months went in the San Francisco Bay area, January was usually gorgeous. In fact, she and Lance had gone for a hike on Saturday up at Castle Rock.

Funny how he’d entered her thoughts about every hour or so of every day in the six weeks since they’d officially started dating. He’d taken her to Colorado for Christmas to introduce her to his family. She’d passed muster, thank God. Here at home, the entire student body had been ecstatic at that turn of events. Charlotte suspected they had Lydia, Eric and Melody, and probably Alice Sloan, too, to thank for the groundswell of approval. No one knew they were practically living together, though. Lance figured they’d give people three months to get used to the dating thing before they made the rest known. Charlotte was already looking for a renter.

Of course, the most important person they had to thank for making their relationship run smoothly was the chairman of the school board. He could have made a huge stink, claiming that a guidance counselor couldn’t date the principal she worked for, that it was against the rules, blah, blah, blah. Even if Charlotte did report to Alice. But Lance had tackled that problem with sly aplomb, crediting David Smith for opening Lance’s eyes and bringing them together, all’s well that ends well and so on. The chairman couldn’t backtrack and say he’d tried to get her fired.

Well, he could have, but he’d probably been a little afraid that if he made too big a fuss, his little secret might come to light.

So here he was in her office.

“I’m glad you could come, Mr. Smith.”

“I’m doing it for Jeanine.” His voice was gruff, semi-irritated, but at least he was here. Since she’d last seen him, his face was less florid, and he appeared to have a lost a few pounds, not a dramatic difference, but enough to be noticeable. This was a good sign. He looked healthier. “And this better be completely confidential.”

“Of course it is,” Charlotte said without offense. She had decided to forgive him for trying to get her fired. She was going to put aside the past and make this all about solving her clients’ issues.

Instead of sitting in the chairs by the window, the positioning of which would have the effect of making him the odd man out, she’d pulled three chairs into a triangle in the middle of the office. Upon sitting, he’d immediately hiked a pant leg and crossed one foot over the opposite knee. It would have been a relaxed pose except for his fists bunched on the arms of the chair. Next to him, Jeanine sat with her knees primly together.

With his statement, Mr. Smith had given Charlotte the obvious place to start. “Counseling works best if there’s willingness on both sides.” For him, she avoided the word
therapy
.

“Don’t push your luck,” he said like a sullen schoolboy.

His attitude wasn’t the greatest, but she’d known it was something she’d have to deal with and diffuse. “Regardless of what brought you here, you
are
here. Why don’t you tell me what you hope to get out of it?”

“To make her happy.” He pointed at Jeanine.

The finger-pointing was a tad rude, but Charlotte didn’t admonish him as if he were the schoolboy he sounded like. Instead, she changed tack completely. “Eric tells me that you’ve planned a family outing with the Wrights over the holiday weekend.” It was Martin Luther King Day the following week.