Teach Me a Lesson by Jasmine Haynes Page B

flourished a hand.
    “You’re joking, right?” Charlotte had barely walked through the door. He’d directed her to stand in front of a cherrywood coffee table, the fire deliciously warm at her back, the high heels of her shoes sinking into the thick, patterned Persian carpet.
    “Don’t argue. Just take your punishment.” His face was impassive in the fire’s glow. He hadn’t turned on a lamp, the only illumination provided by the fire and the light spilling in from the foyer. Dressed in a black pullover sweater and black slacks, he wasn’t much more than a dark shape on the leather sofa.
    “But—” It was like sex; you wanted a buildup, although there’d been very little buildup in the detention hall. And she’d gotten wet this evening as she’d showered, shaved, lotioned, and primped. “My clothes.” She pointed to the tight Lycra top that molded to her breasts and the black leggings outlining her hips and thighs. “I dressed for you.”
    “So undress for me.” He leaned his elbows on his knees, legs spread wide, and lowered his voice to a seductive pitch that set her skin on a slow burn. “Tuesday was for high schoolers. Tonight’s detention is for big girls. I want you naked. I want to see your skin turn pink and your nipples get hard.” He sat back in his former nonchalant pose. “So take everything off, or I’ll have to come over there and strip you down myself.”
    The firelight glowed in his eyes, the look scorching, and suddenly Charlotte wanted to do anything he asked. Crossing her arms, she grabbed the hem of her Lycra top and yanked it over her head, sending it flying and her curls bouncing over her bared shoulders. Then she slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of her leggings and bent, pushing them all the way to her high heels before she stepped out of the shoes.
    “Jesus.” There was a new hoarseness in his voice. “Put on the heels again.”
    Kicking aside the leggings, she did as he bid, once again standing before the firelight, this time in only underwear and high heels. In the window’s reflection behind him, the firelight shone like a corona around her.
    “Perfect.” He rose, skirted the coffee table, and strolled around her to stop at her back. In the reflection, their coronas merged into one, and the warmth of the fire was replaced by the blazing heat of his body. As he loomed behind her, she felt deliciously overwhelmed by his height, her heart in her throat, a throb deep in her belly.
    He leaned down. A warm breath whispered across her nape. “Hands behind your back.”
    The order sent a shiver through her, straight down to her clitoris. She crossed her wrists at the small of her back and watched him in the window as he reached for something on the mantel. He didn’t bind her with rope as she expected, but instead wrapped something silky around her right wrist, then her left.
    “Silk handcuffs.” A tantalizing breath whispered over her again. “Too tight?”
    She shook her head and answered as well. “No-o.” Her voice cracked.
    She’d asked for a spanking. He was escalating. And drawing her oh-so-willingly along.
    He reached to the mantel again. The firelight danced around him as his shadow separated from hers, but she couldn’t make out the object. Until he trailed something soft down her spine, leaving tingles in its wake. Feathers.
    He tapped the inside of one foot with his shoe. “Spread your legs wider.”
    Charlotte readjusted. Featherlight, he caressed the line of her thong where it bisected her cheeks. She watched him in the window, his gaze intent on her body.
    “You have an amazing ass.” He stroked back and forth, up and down. Between the fire and the closeness of his body, her skin was ablaze. She understood what Lola had said, that the words were as important as the actions. It was the whole package that got her blood pumping.
    “No spanking this time?” she ventured.
    He glanced up, breaking his concentration on her butt. “My dear Miss