Read Online The Principal's Office by Jasmine Haynes - Free Book Online
Authors: Jasmine Haynes
Tags: Contemporary
Ads: Link
delicious detail. He folded her fingers around the stem of her wineglass, momentarily forgetting his vow not to touch her, until he felt the warmth of her skin. She was so enthralled with the scene that she didn’t seem to notice his lapse. “Go on,” he urged.
She sipped to wet her parched throat. “He’s making her brace herself on the edge of the tub, and he’s behind her, spreading her legs. His fingers, he’s testing her.” She gulped her wine as if she needed some sort of relief. “Now he’s holding himself, and stroking her with the tip between her legs like he wants to make sure she’s wet enough for him.”
She didn’t use a single dirty word or describe a body part, and yet she made him as hard as the concrete slab the neighbor lady braced herself on.
“Is that how we look?” she whispered. “Men and women?”
“Tell me how they look.”
“Beautiful,” she whispered, a reverent note in the one word. “I always thought that position was coarse and…” She bit her lip, thinking a long moment. “And dirty.”
“Dirty is good.”
She parted her lips, watching. “Not that I’m a prude or that I don’t like sex.”
Not a prude. Just that her partners, her husband, had never shown her the sexiness of being a little dirty. “How many men have you known?”
“Three. And no one since my husband.”
He liked women who were willing to experiment. She was the best of everything, older, ready, dying for the experience, yet a babe in the woods.
God, yes, there was so much he could teach her, so many things to show her, so many delights he couldn’t wait to introduce her to.
6
“ARE THEY FUCKING YET?”
The word jolted Rachel. The first time she’d ever used it, her mother had washed her mouth out with soap. The boys were strictly forbidden from saying it, though Nathan used it sometimes just to irritate her.
Yet in Rand’s deep tone, that word melted her. “Yes.”
“Say it. They’re
fucking
.”
She should be horrified. They were spying. If he was a peeper, then he was a pervert. If he did this, watched his neighbors, he could be capable of anything. Yet the man had seen them. He’d positioned his wife so Rachel and Rand had a clear view of his entry, and the woman had looked over her shoulder, straight at Rachel. She’d cried out only after she’d been sure Rachel was watching.
What’s more, Rand made the whole thing about her, not them. He watched her, not them. Told her to describe it for him, using her words to heighten his arousal. His heat enveloped her, his scent intoxicated her, and his voice mesmerized her.
“He’s fucking her so hard,” she told him, then felt him shift closer, until her skin flushed with his nearness. If he’d ordered her to put her hand on him, she would have. If he’d urged her to make herself come, she couldn’t have resisted. But he made it all hotter and more exquisite because of what he didn’t ask for.
She’d ached for him to taste her wet fingers. She’d died when he didn’t. Yet she was so much nearer to the edge of insanity because he hadn’t.
“Now. Tell me what she’s doing
now
.”
“She’s stroking her pussy, her clit.” The dirty words enflamed her.
Fuck me, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
Two fingers on the base of her glass, he tipped her wine to her lips, made her drink. But he never touched her, never asked to, only watched her drink as if he were drinking
her
. “Tell me more,” he whispered.
“Her breasts are bobbing. Now she’s pinching her nipple.” Rachel felt as if it were her nipple, a streak of lightning from the tip to a secret spot deep inside. She squeezed her legs tight.
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes. Please.” She felt teary-eyed with need.
The man slammed home, grunted. The woman cried out, arched back. Pounding flesh, hot, as if it were her own.
“This is how good it can feel,” he said, soft, low, enticing.
She’d
never
felt this with Gary. Not with anyone. As if she
She sipped to wet her parched throat. “He’s making her brace herself on the edge of the tub, and he’s behind her, spreading her legs. His fingers, he’s testing her.” She gulped her wine as if she needed some sort of relief. “Now he’s holding himself, and stroking her with the tip between her legs like he wants to make sure she’s wet enough for him.”
She didn’t use a single dirty word or describe a body part, and yet she made him as hard as the concrete slab the neighbor lady braced herself on.
“Is that how we look?” she whispered. “Men and women?”
“Tell me how they look.”
“Beautiful,” she whispered, a reverent note in the one word. “I always thought that position was coarse and…” She bit her lip, thinking a long moment. “And dirty.”
“Dirty is good.”
She parted her lips, watching. “Not that I’m a prude or that I don’t like sex.”
Not a prude. Just that her partners, her husband, had never shown her the sexiness of being a little dirty. “How many men have you known?”
“Three. And no one since my husband.”
He liked women who were willing to experiment. She was the best of everything, older, ready, dying for the experience, yet a babe in the woods.
God, yes, there was so much he could teach her, so many things to show her, so many delights he couldn’t wait to introduce her to.
6
“ARE THEY FUCKING YET?”
The word jolted Rachel. The first time she’d ever used it, her mother had washed her mouth out with soap. The boys were strictly forbidden from saying it, though Nathan used it sometimes just to irritate her.
Yet in Rand’s deep tone, that word melted her. “Yes.”
“Say it. They’re
fucking
.”
She should be horrified. They were spying. If he was a peeper, then he was a pervert. If he did this, watched his neighbors, he could be capable of anything. Yet the man had seen them. He’d positioned his wife so Rachel and Rand had a clear view of his entry, and the woman had looked over her shoulder, straight at Rachel. She’d cried out only after she’d been sure Rachel was watching.
What’s more, Rand made the whole thing about her, not them. He watched her, not them. Told her to describe it for him, using her words to heighten his arousal. His heat enveloped her, his scent intoxicated her, and his voice mesmerized her.
“He’s fucking her so hard,” she told him, then felt him shift closer, until her skin flushed with his nearness. If he’d ordered her to put her hand on him, she would have. If he’d urged her to make herself come, she couldn’t have resisted. But he made it all hotter and more exquisite because of what he didn’t ask for.
She’d ached for him to taste her wet fingers. She’d died when he didn’t. Yet she was so much nearer to the edge of insanity because he hadn’t.
“Now. Tell me what she’s doing
now
.”
“She’s stroking her pussy, her clit.” The dirty words enflamed her.
Fuck me, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
Two fingers on the base of her glass, he tipped her wine to her lips, made her drink. But he never touched her, never asked to, only watched her drink as if he were drinking
her
. “Tell me more,” he whispered.
“Her breasts are bobbing. Now she’s pinching her nipple.” Rachel felt as if it were her nipple, a streak of lightning from the tip to a secret spot deep inside. She squeezed her legs tight.
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes. Please.” She felt teary-eyed with need.
The man slammed home, grunted. The woman cried out, arched back. Pounding flesh, hot, as if it were her own.
“This is how good it can feel,” he said, soft, low, enticing.
She’d
never
felt this with Gary. Not with anyone. As if she