The click of the door closing behind me echoed like a gunshot in the principal’s silent, imposing office. It was a different room from Mr. Black’s modern, glass-walled study; this was old power, all dark wood, leather-bound books, and the faint, clean scent of lemon polish. Principal Croft sat behind a massive oak desk, his fingers steepled. On the credenza behind him, a bank of security monitors glowed softly, one of the...

The silence in the study was thick, broken only by the sound of our breathing slowly returning to normal. He shifted, his weight leaving my back, and the sudden emptiness where he had been was a profound, aching chill. I stayed bent over the polished mahogany, my cheek resting on the cool wood, my senses overloaded with the smell of him, of us, of leather and sex. His hands were deft, almost clinical, as he tucked himself...

The summons came just as I knew it would. A single, sharp buzz from the intercom on my desk, followed by his voice, deep and imperious, devoid of all warmth. “Ms. Vance. My study. Now.” The line went dead. A thrill, hot and sharp, lanced straight down my spine, settling low in my belly with a familiar, aching throb. I took my time. I smoothed my already immaculate pencil skirt, reapplied a faint gloss to my lips, and made...