Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
She will be my ruination if I don’t get a fucking grip. I suck in a breath and think about her tight pussy wrapped around me, milking me dry. I bet she tastes like honey between her thighs. I bet she would feel so goddamned good I’d never want to let her go. And for that, I hate her.
The fantasy in my head takes a dark turn as I bend her over my desk and beat her ass with the palm of my hand until it’s so red, she will think of me every time she has to sit down. She’d let me too. I know she’d let me do anything I wanted, and she’d follow my every command, so desperate for my attention and approval. She’d kneel before me and pant at my feet, begging me with those gold eyes as she looked up at me in worship. She’d call me sir and let me grab her by the throat and shove my cock into her mouth. She’d kiss my body and touch me with her soft, delicate hands.
Fuck, I want her. I want her so much it makes me violent with need. And no matter how many times I stroke myself or what I imagine her doing, it won’t be the same. I know this when I finally come, shooting my release across my knuckles, and my dick refuses to fall limp.
Stella. Stella. Stella.
Her name is a mantra in my thoughts. She’s supposed to be my project for this year. I want to break her but not like this. Not by corrupting her.
Yet I fear that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
UNSURPRISINGLY, Stella arrives on time today, making a show of placing her textbook neatly on the desk in front of her. See, Mr. Carter, I can be good.
It’s almost too fucking easy. When she offers me a secret smile, she may as well be whispering that she’s mine. Briefly, I consider how fucked up it is that she’s so eager to please me. And then I remember that I don’t care. I’m here to make this year hell for her and wear her down until I get to the core of her emotions. Her desires.
What does Stella LeClaire really want? And how far will she go to get it? Despite her resolve to put her head down and do her best at Loyola Academy, we both know she doesn’t really belong here. She is too free spirited to be just another cog in the machine. She isn’t chasing her dreams; she’s chasing a feather in the wind. And I’m not here to teach Stella. I’m here to open her fucking eyes and wake her up. This path she’s headed down is a collision course with misery, and until she sees that, I will take pleasure in reminding her every day that she isn’t one of these trust fund brats. Starting right now.
She’s obviously exhausted and tense as she waits quietly for class to begin. A girl like Stella has been deprived of her parents' attention for so long that she will look for it everywhere else. And as long as I set the bar higher, she will keep jumping to reach it.
“Let’s get started.” I rap my knuckles against the desk, drawing everyone’s attention to the front of the class. “Stella, shut the door for us, will you?”
Her eyes flare as her name rolls from my lips with a cadence that lulls her into a false sense of comfort. She doesn’t hesitate to get up from her seat. Today, she’s wearing a crushed red velvet skirt, antique white blouse, and a pussy bow tie. I’m not the only one watching her as she crosses the room. Every pair of eyes is on the exotic creature cloaked in red. She shuts the door with a softness befitting of a mouse and returns to her seat, eagerly waiting for the next set of instructions.
“Today’s class will be free form discussion as noted in the syllabus,” I begin. “Every second period of the week, you will seek out academic papers on a chosen group topic to discuss. Today’s umbrella term is ancient philosophies. Now, who would care to throw some ideas into the ring?”
A few hands go up around the classroom, and I scan the crowd as they wait to be called on. But it’s Louisa who speaks first. “I have an idea, Mr. Carter.”
“What is your suggestion, Louisa?”
She smirks in Stella’s direction before returning her gaze to me. “The curse of the red hair gene throughout history.”
Her friends snicker behind her, and Ethan decides to chime in too as he sneers in Stella’s direction. “Yeah, we could answer that age-old question. Do gingers really have souls?”
Stella frowns at his newfound animosity toward her, but it’s apparent I’ve made my stance clear. He won’t be bothering her anymore. At least not while he’s doing dishes in the cafeteria for the next two months.