The Principal's Office (13 page)

Rand sensed a hesitancy in her voice. Did she expect him to get mad? “That’s fine. Life happens. Tomorrow night, then.”

“Look, I’m not sure we should do this
every
night. Maybe just once a week would be better.”

So he hadn’t imagined that subtle pulling away last night. “Is something wrong, Rachel?” Cell phone to his ear, he rose to close his office door.

“No. It’s just that I’m not used to”—she hesitated, her breath sharp—“every night.”

“Not used to
what
every night?” He needed to force her to spell it out, so they could talk about it and dispense with it.

She spelled it out. “S-E-X,” she whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But that’s what I’m trying to change for you. A woman deserves to have her body worshipped
every
night.”

She was silent, but he detected indistinguishable noises in the background so he knew she hadn’t disconnected.

“I want to fuck you, Rachel. Every day, every night. Under the stars or on top of a bed. Last night was hot. But you promised to suck my cock, and you haven’t done that yet.”

Ah, there it was, her slight intake of breath. “Stop that,” she murmured.

“I’m hard. If you were here right now, I’d fuck you on my desk. Have you ever done it on a desk at work, Rachel?”

“No.” Her voice was breathy.

“Well, you need to. Perhaps I should come over there right now, close your office door, bend you over your desk, and fuck you from behind.”

She gasped. “No.”

He smiled to himself. “But you want it, don’t you?”

“You’re crazy,” she murmured.

“Don’t deny yourself.”

Then she sighed. “Yes, I’m crazy, too. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

He smiled to himself. “Shall I meet you in your office?”

She laughed. “I’ve got windows along the front of my office.”

“Even better.” Christ, he’d love to show up at her workplace late at night and take her over her desk. Or on the copy machine. Against the filing cabinet. He was hard, being taken in by his own fantasies, which wasn’t a good thing right now since he had some appointments coming up. “All right, I relent on the questions. You can come to my house, and I’ll do you on the kitchen counter.”

“You’re raunchy, you know.”

“Yeah. And you like it.”

She whispered something, and it wasn’t until he’d hung up that he realized what she’d said.
I love it.

RACHEL WAS SORE, BUT IN SUCH A DELICIOUS WAY. SHE’D BEEN TO
his house three nights in a row, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. He’d taken her in every room of the house and in every position possible. He’d even done her on the backyard lawn. She’d
tried to be quiet. He’d considered doing her on the deck outside his bedroom, but he admitted that he’d rather keep his exhibitionist tendencies under wraps in his own neighborhood. Unlike his neighbors.

God, she was in lust, completely and totally in ever-loving lust.

Sex wasn’t the only good thing. Erin complimented her on how well she’d handled the shop while they were gone, especially the little tiff between Matt and Steve. Rachel took all the credit without saying it was like handling teenage boys. Yeah, things were looking up. More responsibility, then eventually more money.

On Saturday, she took a leisurely bath, thinking to herself how much she’d love a turn in Rand’s claw-foot tub. They hadn’t done that yet. One of these nights, she’d suggest it. Maybe tonight. She shaved her legs, then, without giving herself too much time to think, she trimmed her pubic hair. Opening a jar of homemade lavender-scented sea salt scrub her sister had sent for Christmas, she exfoliated until her skin was as soft as the proverbial baby’s bottom. After the bath, she smoothed on buckets of lotion, then dressed without panties or bra, because Rand loved to simply lift her skirt and do her. She was almost forty years old, a few strands of silver starting to show at her temples, fine lines at the corners of her eyes, and this man still wanted to do her three times a night. Yes,
three
times one of those nights. Rachel smiled into the mirror as she applied her makeup.

She had a complete handle on it now. It was just sex. Really, really great sex, but honestly, she wasn’t having any scary emotions about it. She wasn’t even angry with Gary about his girlfriend, who was over at his apartment almost every evening, according to Justin, though she never spent the night. Rachel would have put her foot down on that.

If she wanted her privacy, she had to give Gary his, too.

She’d let her hair dry with the hairspray on it, to give it extra body, and now she fluffed it. Perfect.

The college had sent an email confirmation that she was registered to attend, and this morning, she’d signed up for the computer class covering basic spreadsheet and word processing. It started the first Tuesday in April, once a week, three hours. On the weeks she had the boys, Nathan would have to babysit Justin. Though God forbid she should use
that
term in front of Justin; he was
not
a baby. She’d discuss the whole thing with them tomorrow when they got home. She hoped to God Gary hadn’t told them, but he’d probably want to win brownie points by making her look bad. Whatever. She’d think about that tomorrow. Tonight, she’d enjoy her last date with Rand for a week.

When she arrived at his house, he pulled her inside, pushed her against the wall, and slid his hands under her dress. She’d worn the leopard print again.

“No panties, you dirty bitch.”

God, she loved it when he did that, called her names with that cheeky grin and dimples blossoming. She fought his hands away. “And you’re a filthy man. You didn’t even offer me a glass of wine before you attacked me.”

They never ate dinner together. Sometimes he had cheese, crackers, fruit, snacks, but they didn’t have dinner and they didn’t go out. They just had sex. It was perfect.

“Upstairs.” He grabbed her hand, hauled her up against him, and lifted her until she spread her legs around him and locked her ankles at the small of his back. He liked to carry her around like that, sort of he-man and all. He loved lifting her and doing her against the wall. Or on the counter. He just plain loved doing her.

Being wanted was power. She’d never felt so powerful.

“I’ve got big plans for you tonight,” he declared.

One arm looped around his neck as he climbed the stairs, she put her hand between them to palm his cock.
Cock, pussy, dirty bitch, slut, fuck
; she’d started to love all those words. “Something certainly feels big down there,” she teased.

“Oh yeah.” He grinned and pulled her tight against him.

He was hard for her. She didn’t have to work at exciting him. He saw her, he wanted her. He could stay hard for a long time before he came. The man had control with a capital
C
.

In the bedroom, he simply tossed her on the bed. She squealed, loving it. Sex with him was so easy. There was no baggage, no fear he might reject her. He required no special ritual, no perfect words. She’d realized that the marriage bed was a battlefield. Rand’s bed was just something soft he could take her on over and over.

“So tonight we’re going to have a special Olympic event.”

She snorted. “What? Pole jumping?”

He grinned. “Olympic cocksucking.”

He made sex such fun, another thing she’d never had, yet she couldn’t imagine doing it any other way now. “And how many competitors do we have?”

“Just you.”

She rolled to her stomach and propped herself on her elbows to look up at him. “Doesn’t that mean I win by default?”

“No.” He grabbed something from the table. “We’re going to document your performance, then critique it. We both score you.”

Document? Then she saw what he held in his hand. A camera.

Her stomach plunged. “You’re going to videotape me?”

“Yes.” He tossed the video camera on the bed beside her. “I want to watch you suck my cock, every subtle nuance that I miss when you’re actually doing it.”

A chill skittered down her spine. She sat up. “I don’t want to be taped.” She’d sucked his cock. It wasn’t such a terrible thing, kind of enjoyable in fact, but she hadn’t swallowed, and she wasn’t
sure she’d done a great job at it. Rand was so much more eloquent when he was fucking her, using every dirty word in the book to tell her how much he loved sinking deep inside her.

She didn’t want to critique herself, and she didn’t want to see herself on video.

He looked at her a long moment. “I’ll give you the SD card. You can preview the video yourself. Then, if you like it, we can watch it together the next time.”

“But—” She didn’t want to say the words. But really, what if someone
else
saw it?

“I’m not going to give it to anyone, Rachel. I’m not going to put it on the Internet.”

She swallowed. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did.” He sat next to her, one leg bent at the knee, his other foot braced on the carpet, then he leaned into her, stroked her cheek. “I’m not going to hurt you, Rachel, not in any way. But I want this, to see the two of us. It’s so different from doing it. But the video card is yours, not mine, and if you decide you want to erase it without showing it to me, you can do that. Just give it a chance first.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, picked at the comforter. “I don’t think I’ll like myself on camera.” Didn’t they say it added ten pounds?

He trailed a finger along her jaw. “You will be so fucking beautiful with your mouth full of my cock.”

He had such a way with words, the ability to take a filthy, dirty statement like that and make it an endearment.

“You’re safe here, Rachel. I might push your limits, but I’ll always keep you safe.”

She sighed. “If I could just let go of all these fears.” Then she immediately regretted admitting she had fears at all.

But Rand put his lips to hers, kissed her, then whispered, “So just let them go.”

He made it sound so easy. He’d give her the card. She could watch it and if she hated it, she could erase it. It would never truly be in his possession. But what if she liked it? What if she enjoyed watching herself? What if they watched it together? How would that change their relationship?

Maybe another woman would try to figure out how he could screw her over, how he could download the video without her knowledge and share it with his disgusting buddies or post it on the Web for all the world to see.

Rachel didn’t try to work out all the possibilities. She didn’t believe he’d do anything like that. She’d known him less than a month, she’d fucked him a dozen times, if you counted multiple times in a night. She didn’t
know
him really. Yet she didn’t believe he’d harm her. She
wanted
to do as he said, let it all go.

“I’d like to see it,” she whispered, then looked at him. “I want to perform.” She put her hand on his thigh. “I want to suck your cock until you scream, then swallow every last drop.” She licked her lips. His eyes followed. “Then I want to make you watch it all over and over.”

“Done,” he said. He pulled her off the bed. “Now take off your clothes, get on your knees, and suck me, baby.”

Oh God, she’d completely lost her mind. Because she wanted it badly. And she did exactly what he told her to.

THE MOMENT SHE AGREED, RAND STRIPPED DOWN AND STARTED
filming her.

On camera, she seemed almost shy unzipping her dress. Then she let it drop to the floor. She wore nothing beneath, her skin creamy white, her nipples already pearled with excitement, her pretty pussy freshly trimmed.

“You’re fucking hot,” he murmured, for her, for the camera.

She smiled hesitantly, her hands fluttering as if she wanted to cover herself.

“Leave the shoes, but kick the dress aside.”

She did so with a flourish.

“Now get on your knees, baby.” He watched her graceful fall on the small screen.

Her lips were lushly red, her eyes bright as she looked up at him. “Are you going to hold the camera the whole time?”

He laughed. “Part of the time. Then I’m going to put it on the tripod.” He pointed to the setup next to the chair. In hopes that
she’d say yes, he’d already placed the tripod in the best spot for the best shot.

As he stood above her next to the bed, she sat back on her haunches, her spine straight, her hands primly in her lap, strategically covering her pussy. “Now what?”

“Do what comes naturally.”

She made a face that looked sexy and teasing for the camera. “None of this comes naturally.” But she reached for his cock. He angled the lens to take in her fist wrapping around his hard flesh.

“That’s it, stroke it, baby.”

She caressed him slowly, almost leisurely, then ran her thumb over the tip, gathering a drop of pre-come to swirl over the head. “Mmm, you must like this.”

“You know I love it.”

She cupped his balls, squeezing him. Heat shot through his body.

“You’re corrupting me,” she said, then leaned into him before he could answer and sucked the crown of his cock.

“Christ.” The top of his head felt like it would blow off. He could barely hold the camera steady as sensation rocketed through him. “I must be doing a damn good job of corrupting, then, because this is perfect.”

“Mmm.” Her mouth vibrated around him. She slid him deeper, her eyes closing, her lashes fanned against her cheeks, fingernails a flashy red around the base of his cock as she held him. That was new; she didn’t normally paint her nails.

Then she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

“Jesus,” he uttered with awe. She was so fucking beautiful, her lips and nails the same decadent red against his cock, her face flushed, her eyes a brilliant green where usually they were a gentle hazel. The soft lighting of the room bathed her body with golden hues, and her black pumps, the only thing she wore, were
sexy as hell. When she saw the video, she would fall in love with her own image.

“Suck me, baby, please,” he begged. His need would come through clearly. She would
feel
how badly he wanted her.

Closing her eyes once again, she slid her mouth over him until she left lipstick prints on her hand. Then she pulled all the way back to work the slit of his crown with her tongue.