Chapter 9
Callie
As soon as I reached his house, I saw Dottie.
Outside. Beneath Alistair’s prize rose bushes. The cerise-pink blooms were in full show, practically glowing with smug, innocent beauty. Dottie had his ass raised—and I knew that stance.
“Dottie, no!” I hissed, crouching beside the gate.
The little shit didn’t even look my way.
He gave a delicate shuffle… and began to drop his turd.
“No. Dottie! Who let you out? I’m going to kill them. Stop it.”
I glanced up at the house.
Nothing.
“Oh my God. What have we been feeding you? How can you still be shitting?”
He turned around to sniff at his poop like it was art, then began delicately covering the evidence of his foul play.
“Goddammit, Dottie,” I howled, pushing the gate open.
I dived over the flowerbed and sprinted across the perfectly manicured grass, but before I could reach Dottie, I heard his front door open.
No trespassing. Keep off the grass.
He didn’t need to say a word. The smug grin on his face said it all.
I chanced a glance at Dottie—but he’d already scarpered, abandoning me to Alistair’s wrath.
“No, wait! I can explain!” I shouted, just as he charged toward me.
Oh, hell no.
I turned and ran.
Let me tell you—I didn’t get far.
His arm wrapped around my waist, and his fingers caught my ponytail—all while lifting me clean off the ground.
“You broke my rules, Callie,” he growled.
His voice scraped down my spine like a dirty promise. When he carried me toward his house, I didn’t groan out of protest. I groaned because my pussy throbbed like it already knew what was coming.
“You’re mine now,” he said, slamming the door behind us.
He slid my backpack off, grabbed my wrist, and marched me to the stairs. No time to admire his house.
Stairs. Hallway. A closed door.
I barely had time to take in the room before he unbuttoned my jeans.
“Go bend over my desk,” he said, nudging me toward the massive setup—three monitors, cables, gear everywhere.
Was that a pair of binoculars on the shelf?
“What?” I asked, already moving.
He followed like a shadow.
“Do you know what happens to girls who tease men like me and break the rules?”
“Uh… we get to come multiple times?” I offered sweetly.
“No. You get spanked and filled up until you’re leaking like a faulty faucet,” he purred, yanking open a drawer.
I glanced down. Neatly divided compartments. Stationery arranged with military precision.
He reached for the fluorescent green ruler.
“First, we have a lesson. Then a test. Then I grade you.”
I opened my mouth, but he pressed a finger to it.
“You lost, Callie. And we both know it. Now—take off your jeans and knickers. Then bend over my desk.”
He cleared some space like he’d been planning this moment for days.
I stared at the ruler. It looked harmless.
Shrugging, I unzipped my jeans.
The denim slipped past my thighs and hit the floor with a soft thud. I reached down to slip my trainers off before stepping out of my jeans. My knickers followed, and the air against my bare skin made me shiver.
I wasn’t cold.
I was excited.
Thrumming.
This was something different. New.
Alistair didn’t speak.
He just waited.
And I hated that it made me wetter.
I bent over his desk, palms flat on the wood, monitors flickering above me like I was about to take the world’s dirtiest exam.
He moved behind me—slow and methodical—like a man who knew exactly what he was about to do, and had rehearsed it in his head a hundred times.
Then came the sound.
That soft tap of the ruler against his palm.
“Count,” he said.
That was all.
Snap.
The first strike landed. Sharp.
Not unbearable, but enough to make my hips jolt.
“One,” I hissed.
Snap.
“Two.”
He dragged the flat edge of the ruler across my cheek. Not hitting—just letting me feel it. Letting me anticipate it.
“You’ve been acting up, haven’t you?” he said, voice low.
“Yes—sir?”
I didn’t know why I added the sir, but his inhale told me he liked it.
Snap.
“Three—fuck.”
“Language,” he said darkly.
I huffed.
Snap.
“Four. Shit.”
“Brat.”
His hand came down next—no ruler—just palm. Hot. Possessive.
He gripped one cheek and squeezed hard enough to make me gasp.
“Bad girl,” he murmured, releasing me. “Teasing me for weeks.”
Weeks?
Snap.
“Fuck—five,” I panted.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
His voice dipped again before he rained down another five strikes.
Each one different. Alternating sides.
By the time we hit ten, I was gasping out the numbers between shallow breaths.
Then it stopped.
His hands cupped my heated cheeks, firm and grounding.
I looked down just in time to see the ruler fall to the grey rug.
Then I heard it.
The drawer opening again.
“Test time,” he said.
“That’s a bit unfair, Professor Graves. I wasn’t given a chance to revise,” I said with a snicker.
“Oh, I disagree, Ms Shaw. You’ve done nothing but revise for ten days,” he drawled.
I closed my eyes.
The vibrator.
Shit.
He wasn’t going to let me live that down, was he?
“Which means,” he continued, “you should be well prepared. Now bend a little deeper. Elbows on the desk.”
I obeyed, spine curving, breath catching as my bare skin met the cool surface.
He moved behind me again.
Not the ruler this time.
Something plastic tapped gently against my thigh.
I glanced down and saw a flash of a fluorescent highlighter.
“For the test,” he said smoothly.
“What are you going to do? Mark me for spelling errors?”
“Oh, no. This test’s much simpler,” he murmured, crouching slightly until I felt his breath near the curve of my ass. “I want to see just how well prepared you really are.”
He dragged the rounded plastic tip slowly up the inside of my thigh.
My body jolted.
“Still,” he ordered.
I gripped the desk harder.
“You’re soaked,” he muttered like a scientist discovering an anomaly. “So much for playing innocent.”
The highlighter moved higher.
I bit down on a moan.
He paused. “Be a good girl for me.”
He trailed the pen between my folds.
“So fucking wet,” he muttered, pushing the pen inside.
“Oh. Ooh,” I gasped as he moved it in and out.
It was slow and excruciating.
“Well, Miss Shaw,” he said, voice low. “You passed the practical.”
He pulled the pen out.
I exhaled in relief—only for him to grip my hips.
“But the oral’s still to come.”
Damn.
If only all my lessons were like this.