More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
He spoke with such authority and certainty, I was beginning to think he’d rattled some kink cage in my brain that found daddy-teachers hot. Or him . . .
His smile produced a dimple. A fucking dimple. Okay then. Hang up my lilac boots and cover me in carnations. It’s all over for me. Then, because I wasn’t dead enough, the fucker took off his glasses. He just took them off and slid them onto his desk like he took out a machete and cut me in half. That’s how dead I was. He mowed me down in my fucking seat.
Inner Twink
His tone was his boss voice, deeper and final. My inner twink-who-wants-a-daddy sat up and took notice.
He licked his lips. Every cell in my body felt alive, electric, buzzing and wanting more. And if he leaned in and kissed me right then, I would have straddled his lap and made short work of us both.
I grinned, almost laughed, and had barely nodded once before he strode back to me, pushed me against the door frame, and kissed me.
He pinned me with his body against the door jamb, one hand held my jaw, his other hand went to my lower back. His mouth, his tongue, his passion, the grunt he made.
I wanted to wrap my legs around him, I wanted him to do every good and terrible thing to me he could imagine . . .
His lips were soft and warm, and it was sweet and chaste . . . until he tilted my head just so and opened my lips with his own. His other hand was on my neck, up my throat, and in my hair, and his tongue was in my mouth. He was owning this kiss, and he was owning me along with it. I was putty in his hands, to be shaped and plied as he saw fit.
Own me
Everything, every touch, every groan was too much and not enough. I was too desperate. I wanted more. I wanted his cock. I wanted to feel him inside me. I want to take him, feel him. I wanted him to own me.
