Page 6 of Devil's Bargain

He doesn’t need to know any more than that.

“You’re failing math because you require money?” His voice is patronizing.

I frown. “In a nutshell.”

Scooting his chair back, Scott rounds the desk. He leans back on it, feet planted, arms crossed. “I think we can come to an understanding. If you’re willing to think outside of the box?”

“Huh?” I ask, confused.

He pushes off the desk, crouches down in front of me and puts his big palms on my thighs. “What would you do for money?”

I stare at his hands on my legs. “Why are you touching me?”

Chuckling, he digs his fingers in. “You don’t look like the kind of girl who’s easily offended.”

“Easily offended? I’m sorry I don’t under—”

“Answer the question!” He begins massaging my thighs, higher and higher until my skirt is pushed up far enough to expose my black lace panties. This is definitely not normal teacher behavior. This man is propositioning me.

“Mr. Scott…”

He groans, brushing his thumb over my clit through the fabric.

I jump in my seat, but his grip on me keeps me in place.

“How desperate are you for money?”

My eyes swim with tears. This time next week, I won’t have a roof over my head anymore. “I’m desperate!”

His smile is predatory. “Good!” He pushes up to his feet, walks over to his chair, and sits down. “I can make your money trouble go away and sort out your grade situation.”

My mouth opens and closes. Is he serious? “What? Why would you do that?”

He drums his fingers on the desk. “I’m not doing it from the goodness of my heart. I’m after something in return, and you look like the kind of girl to help me out.”

My heart beats wildly in my chest. “The kind of girl?”

What the fuck is he talking about?

He runs his blue eyes down my body, lingering on my bare legs. “A slut!”

My mouth falls open.

He picks up his bag roots and through it for his wallet, digging out enough notes to make my eyes pop wide open. He then holds the cash up and smiles. “Like I said, you don’t take offense easily. Do you?”

My eyes sting with humiliation, but I refuse to let the tears fall. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, looking pointedly at his wedding ring.

“Oh, this?” He lifts his left hand and points to his wedding ring. “She’s a great woman, but I have needs and tastes that she’s unwilling to fulfill.”

“What tastes?”

He wets his lips. “You’ll learn. I can tell you right now that I’m rough. I like to demean and dominate. If you’re not okay with that, then leave.”

“What do you want from me?” Why am I asking questions? I should gather my bag, walk out, and report him.

He pushes the money over to my side of the desk before leaning back in his chair. “I’m looking for an arrangement. I’ll supply you with a phone, and you’ll come when I summon you.”

“I’m not a dog!”

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