Page 18 of Teacher's Pet

"Does that line work on your other students?" I taunt, pressing my hand flat against his chest, pushing him back just enough that his back hits the windowsill with a soft thud.

"I'm sure you're used to women being on their knees for you by now, hanging on your every word." I reach for my book, the movement deliberate as I try to regain some control. "But I’m sorry to tell you, I am not-"

"Look at me while you say it," he snaps, his voice sharp enough to cut through the air.

I freeze, mid-motion, my hand hovering over the pages of the book.

"What?" I stammer, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone.

"Look at me while you tell me how you're not a woman willing to be on your knees for me."

I swallow, every part of me wanting to deflect, to push him away, but something in his gaze pulls me in. My eyes lock with his, and I see it then…the power, the control he exerts so effortlessly.

My breath catches in my throat as his gaze holds mine, and I can’t look away.

Alright, Mr. Ackerman.

Two can play this game.

"You say that as if you want me to be on my knees for you, Noah," I purr, the words slipping from my mouth like poison as I shift my weight, using my knee to steady myself. I lean in closer, the air between us thick with tension, my hands landing on the window behind him. I peer down at him, my gaze sharp, the malice evident in every inch of my posture. "Tell me-"

Before I can finish, he grabs the front of my shirt with a swift, unforgiving motion, yanking me down toward him. I lose my balance, but I catch myself by grabbing his shoulder, my nose barely grazing his as his free hand moves, gripping my thigh with brutal intensity.

My breath hitches, my heart racing so wildly it feels like it might tear through my chest.

"You want me to do something," he whispers, his voice low, dark, and teasing. His lips graze my earlobe with a feather-light touch, sending an electric shiver down my spine. The hot breath of his words against my skin ignites a wave of heat that pools between my legs, burning like a wildfire.

"You want to tempt me, Anastasia," he continues, his voice dropping lower, his fingers digging harder into my thigh, possessive and firm. "You want to see how far I’m willing to let this banter play out."

I can't stop the way my body reacts, the pull of his dominance sinking deeper, making every part of me tense with anticipation.

I can’t hold my position over him any longer. Regretfully, I let my weight shift, sinking into his lap. His hand lands on my thigh, holding me there as I straddle him. He tugs at the hem of my shirt, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin, the fabric pulling tight, almost exposing my breasts. My breath hitches, and I stare at him, wide-eyed, heart pounding in my chest.

"You could be screaming right now," he presses, his voice low and dark, like a challenge. His hand leaves my shirt, tracing a slow path to the back of my neck, forcing me closer, a breath away from him. "You could yell for help. Let them know how your teacher has you straddling his lap, watching your lips tremble from the rush of adrenaline my touch gives you."

His body presses against mine, unmistakably hard. The fabric between us feels like a suffocating barrier, every inch of it a reminder of what’s happening, what should never happen. But I don’t move. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place, my eager warmth feeling the yearning need between his legs.

No shame in his touch, no hesitation.

He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t ask permission.

I feel the thick, undeniable need between us, the way it presses against my core, igniting a pull I can’t explain.

What the hell am I doing?

This is wrong. I know it is. But I can't move. Can't stop.

"Is this what you wanted?" Seduction drips from my voice, each word slow, deliberate. "You wanted to feel my body? Wanted to feel me rock my hips?" I roll them slowly, feeling the full length of him pressing against me through the thin fabric of his pants.

Fuck.

He stifles a sound I can only assume is pleasure, his breath hitching in his throat. Then he leans in closer, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my earlobe, teeth gently nipping, sending a shiver down my spine. His words are low and dangerous.

"Truthfully," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear, "I want to know how wet you are right now, feeling my cock rub against that pretty pussy," he purrs. "You're just begging to be filled up and stretched out, aren't you,Anastasia?"

His hand moves slowly, tracing the bottom of my shirt, the touch almost too much to bear. I’m ready to implode, to let the moment consume us.

But then, a sudden thud from the bookshelf freezes us both. Our eyes go wide.

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