Page 71 of Dr. Bad Boy
And if they can’t…
Well, then there are consequences.
I see the Docs first. Then her legs, her long, lean calves and curvy thighs, clad in black stockings. A flash of thigh above the curving silk, held up by the black ribbons of a garter belt, then the kilt.
A flash of anger pulses through me.
How dare she wear such short scrap of nothing when our dress code clearly demands all kilts touch the floor when kneeling.
She’s knotted her blouse in the front, too, revealing a slice of pale skin at her mid-section.
And her long chestnut hair, usually long and flowing free as she flits in and out of my office, tempting me, is now parted right down the middle and braided loosely, two plaits, one falling over each shoulder.
Even her braids look fucking dirty.
She’s perfect.
Pleasure twists with the anger I’ve manufactured and I clear my throat. “That’s far enough, Ms. Roberts.”
She stumbles to a stop.
Then she pops her bubble gum.
Fuck me. Beyond perfect.
“You wanted to see me, Max?”
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Principal Donovan?”
“I dunno. Does it really matter?” She shrugs and her tits jiggle.
I don’t think she wore a bra to school today.
I picture her beautiful lingerie left upstairs on the chair. Everything except that garter belt.
“Discipline is at the core of our teaching philosophies, Ms. Roberts. Even though your circumstances for being here are…unusual…the normal rules must still apply.”
She pops her jaw to one side, then the other, her eyes doing a lazy look around the darkened space. “But I’m different than the others, aren’t I…sir?”
My sexy fucking kitten. Trying to figure out the bounds. I stand up and prowl toward her. I want to see that insolent pout up close. Bite that lower lip and push her to her knees in front of me, maybe. Put it to better use. “You’re different, all right. When I allowed you to attend Donovan Academy as a mature student,Violet, it was under a very express set of rules. Do you remember what they were?”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide. Of course she doesn’t. I’m making this shit up as I go.
“Rule number one. You must at all times follow the dress code.”
She swallows hard. “That’s a hard one for me to remember…Principal Donovan.”
“I can see that,” I say dryly. “On your knees.”
She lowers herself in front of me.
“Does your hem touch the floor?”
She shakes her head in answer to my brusque question. “No.”
“What happened to the rest of your skirt, Ms. Roberts?”
“I sold it for drug money.”
