Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Ashleigh
A nger and arousal swamp my vision until I’m barely able to see straight. Blinking up at the dean, I study his handsome face, hoping he might feel just as much conflict as I do. But no. There’s nothing.
He’s as stone cold as ever. It’s as if disciplining me didn’t affect him in the slightest. How is that possible?
I watch, dumbstruck, as he rolls down his sleeves, covering his perfectly sculptured forearms. He doesn’t have any right to be this fucking hot. And the way he sounds all controlling and demanding as he speaks? Inappropriate. At least, that’s what my clit says as it throbs mercilessly.
As much as I want to put my hand on my face to leach out the heat, I don’t want him to have any indication of the turmoil churning inside me. It’s already embarrassing enough to feel arousal pulsing through my veins, hot and thick. But to have him know it? Unthinkable.
Grabbing the proof sheet from his desk, I storm out, not wanting to hear another word he has to say. Of course, he doesn’t let me get off that easily. As I reach the door, he grabs my arm and jerks me backward until I nearly fall into his arms.
Is that what he wants? To have me so discombobulated that I’m at his mercy? But again, as I search his hooded gaze, he reveals nothing.
“If you finish rewriting that article in time, you might be able to join me for the benefit dinner this evening. You know, cover something not controversial for once?”
That frisson of anger just below the surface flairs for a moment, making me see red. Blinking it away, I will myself to calm down. No good will come of goading him like this. He’s made it very clear he holds all the cards. Besides, I have a few tricks up my sleeve to get at him in a much more productive way.
As loathe as I am to ever go to my dad for help, I know he’ll back me up with this. Hell, he could probably buy Loftry right out from under Dean Anderson and let me do what I want with the paper... That is, if he even thinks this is a proper venture for his little girl.
A ragged sigh rips from my lips as I tear myself from the dean’s arms. It’s a stupid thought. My father would say my time would be better spent at a finishing school. Never mind that Loftry is one of the best universities in the whole country. Never mind that my brothers couldn’t even get in.
No. I’ll just have to do this my way and leave Daddy Dearest out of it. Besides, what’s the point in having claws if I never learn to use them? It’s just something I need to hone if I want to make it as a real journalist, anyway. Dean Anderson is merely allowing me to sharpen my skills at his expense.
Looking him up and down, I allow my lips to twist into a small smirk. “Are you sure you want someone like me writing an article on how you’re extorting money from the masses when the tuition you charge should be more than enough to cover expenses?”
This time, it’s his turn to sigh as he rubs his hand down his face. Deep inside, a small niggle of glee bubbles up to the surface, morphing the remaining ire and irritation into something else, something far more primal. A challenge.
“Miss Hartwell...”
“Yes, Dean Anderson?” I reply, my voice syrupy sweet.
What the hell is wrong with me? Normally I’m very much a by-the-book kinda girl. I keep my head down. I do what I’m told and don’t make waves. At least not with things outside of journalism. Now, I want nothing more than to push his buttons, to see just how far this goes.
“Are you ever going to be a part of the solution and work with me here? I’d really like us to be together on this.”
For a moment, I tilt my head to the side as I think. As much as I want to be that sweet, demure girl my father is trying to raise, something in me snaps. I don’t want to be the solution anymore. I don’t want to just go along to get along.
My lips curl into a grin as I stare up into his demanding gaze. “I think I’m going to be the whole problem.”
Just saying that makes something break loose inside me. For the first time, I feel just a bit freer. Granted, the terror of getting in over my head makes my gut clench, but it also makes my heart race and flutter.
“I expect to see you here again next week then. Won’t I?”
“Well, that’s your choice, isn’t it? Choose to censor me, and I’ll certainly be back. Your paddle doesn’t scare me.”
Something odd shifts in his expression. I can’t read it, but it makes my pulse pound in my ears loud enough I’m sure he hears it. There’s something dark in his eyes, a hunger I’ve only ever seen in movies or read about in romance novels.
Just as quickly as I see it, it disappears, leaving me to wonder if I just imagined it. But of course I did. There’s no way someone in his position would ever get worked up over someone like me. To him, I’m a nobody. More than likely, I’m just a pretty face and a snarky disposition.
“Again, it is the administration’s-“
“Yeah. Yeah. I get it. Save your threats to someone who actually is frightened by them.”
Without allowing him a retort, I stride out of the office and close the door behind me, effectively cutting off any rebuttal. Inside, I’m a shaking, quaking mess, but I do my best to keep my emotions off my face as I walk by his secretary’s desk. Thankfully, she doesn’t even seem to look up at me.
At this point, I’m not sure if it’s the adrenaline rushing through my system that makes arousal slide down my thighs or just all the emotions swirling through me. Either way, I want to walk back in there and beg him to put me over his desk and make me feel all of it again. It’s insanity. There’s no other word for it.
For now, I need to breathe. Just a few more steps and I’ll be out of here and back on my way to the writing lab. But just as I clear her desk, I hear the door open again behind me.
“We’re not finished here, Miss Hartwell. I expect a copy of the new article to be sent to me and your advisor for looking over and approval before it goes to print. Hurry now. You haven’t much time if you want to make this week’s deadline. It certainly wouldn’t look good for Loftry Lantern’s inaugural issue to be late, or worse, canceled.”
Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I pin him with the haughtiest look I can muster. “Don’t worry Mr. Anderson. I’ll have it for you right away. It won’t be hard to write something new when it’s all fluff. I’ll even have it to you in time to make the benefit tonight.”
His gaze roams over my body in a way that has me tingling from head to toe. “Shelaine will email you an invitation. You’ll be at the table with me. Black tie. I’m sure you have something appropriate to wear.”
“Oh. I promise I won’t disappoint you.”
“I’m very sure you will, Miss. Hartwell. Oh, and before I forget, you have a meeting with Doctor Andrew, the university psychiatrist, Monday at three. I’m sure he’ll be able to get to the bottom of whatever this is. If not, there are always other methods.”
The door closes behind him with an ominous click, leaving Shelaine and I in the office together. Mumbling a swift goodbye, I rush back over to the lab so I’ll have more than enough time to get ready for tonight. But even as I sit down to write this farce of an article, I find my mind continues to drift to a sexier-than-sin dean and his heavy hand.
Words refuse to come as I squirm in my seat. Glancing at the clock, I note the time slipping past and let out a frustrated grunt. I just need to get my head in the game. There’s no way I can think straight when I’m this fucking turned on.
Glancing over my shoulder, I note the curtain in front of the door is closed, allowing me some privacy. How much? I’m not sure. No one else should be coming in here for the rest of this evening.
As I use my left hand to hit the backspace on my keyboard, I slide my right hand up my thigh and under my skirt. My skin is slick and sticky with arousal, drawing a soft moan from my lips. God, I truly am insane.
The analog clock ticks along, the only sound in the room besides my harsh breath as it flits through my lips. Just taking the edge off. That’s all I’m doing. No harm in getting my head on straight.
I don’t even slide my thong to the side. I’m so fucking horny and needy that all I have to do is stroke myself on top of the fabric. The rasp of the soaked cotton against my sensitive flesh sends tendrils of need rushing through me. Holy fuck but I’ve needed this.
I’ve been so consumed with this paper that I haven’t seen to my self care. Now, I’m paying for it. Too bad it took a paddling from a hot dean to make me remember to take care of myself.
Closing my eyes, I picture myself lying across his desk, just waiting for him to do his worst. Only, instead of a paddle, it’s his hand. He strikes me with it, sending me riding up against the smooth wood. It’s just as hard and implacable as he is.
Never thought pain would get me off, but here I am, sliding my fingers lower until I slide them past the tiny scrap of lace so I can plunge them into my pussy. It’s still not enough. None of this is enough. But I don’t have time to go back to my dorm to get my vibrator.
Soft needy whines claw at my throat as I rock back and forth, switching from impaling myself to stroking my clit until I’m just at the edge. So close. So fucking close. My inner walls flutter about my fingers as I use my other hand to keep working my clit.
Arousal coats my hand as sweet beads on my forehead. Rough, haggard gasps spill from my lips as everything starts to coil tight inside. Why can’t I come? I’m so close. My orgasm hovers just out of reach. It’s both frustrating and irritating that I can’t seem to go over the edge.
As I shift again in my seat, my ass grinds against the hard edge of the chair, sending a spike of discomfort through me. A soft yelp catches in my throat, held back as I clench my teeth.
Try as I might to deny it, I can’t help the flair of pleasure that surges through me after the little bit of pain. Angling my ass so that it rubs up against the harsh angles, I use it to fuel my pleasure, as if it’s a bitter medicine and the tingling in my body is the chaser after it.
Once more, my orgasm builds until I’m back at that razor’s edge. Thankfully, no one has walked in yet, but I can’t chance anyone hearing the lurid sounds coming from me. Biting down on my lower lip, I hold my cries of passion at bay as everything tightens up for that brief second before exploding into utter gratification.
Again, I rock back and forth, riding out the aftershocks as I continue to slide my fingers in and out of my soaked pussy. Eventually, everything calms back down, allowing me to ease my hands out from under my skirt and take a nice deep breath.
I sit there for several moments, just staring at the computer screen as I try to process what just happened. But none of it makes sense. I shouldn’t want the dean to do these dirty things to me. I shouldn’t want to act out these indecent scenarios until I’m coming again and again as he fucks me with his thick fingers.
Shaking my head, I stand up and walk over to the small dispenser to gather some cool water to clean my fingers. As good as it was to get off, it’s time for work. Now that I’m no longer distracted, the article flows out of me as line after line of copy flies from my fingertips.
It’s not nearly as good as the death article, but then, Dean Anderson doesn’t seem to care about what’s good or newsworthy. If he wants to read some bland story that says nothing, then that’s what he’ll get. Once I’m done, I send it off to both him and my advisor and wait.
Thankfully, they both respond back after a few minutes, and without any surprise, this one is found suitable. Ten minutes to spare. Nothing like cutting it close. As I hover my mouse over the email to send it off, I blink at the attachment.
There’s nothing about this piece that I’m proud of. It’s pandering. It’s pedantic. It’s nothing that’s newsworthy.
Again, I glance over my shoulder and watch the door, just waiting for him to barge his way through and demand to know what I’m doing. But it stays closed.
Honestly, though. What can he really do about it? Try to destroy the paper now that it’s started? Spank me again?
At that thought, arousal sizzles through my brain, making it hard to think. But I’m not doing this for his punishment. I’m doing this for me.
With a click of the button, I send out the amended newspaper through the email that the school no doubt monitors. From my own personal account, I attach the original, the one I sent to the advisor.
Hey! So sorry. I just left the lab so I’m emailing from my phone. I realize I sent you the wrong file. This is the one that needs to go to print. Again, so sorry. Please respond so I know you got this.
Minutes go by as my heart races in my chest. What if they don’t get it? What if they check with Dean Anderson first? What if-
Got your email, Miss Hartwell. Happens all the time. Don’t worry about it. I got it set to print and will be ready for delivery first thing tomorrow. Have a great evening.
My breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh as I stand there staring at the screen. An odd sense of giddiness washes over me as I leave to get ready for the benefit tonight. Will I be able to sit so close to him knowing I blatantly disobeyed him?
Never before have I ever been so careless or rebellious. Unfortunately, I find that I like how it makes me feel. More than that, I can’t wait to see what new punishment Dean Anderson will concoct. If he tries to dismantle the paper, then I’ll just find another way to fight it.
There’s no way he’ll ever stop the press, and it’s high time he learns that. Just because he’s in a position of power doesn’t mean he can bully me or the news I report. Every time he moves, I’ll simply counter.
Checkmate.