AGAINST SCHOOL POLICY | 18+

They say the older, the wiser. Ryver suspected that thirty years old may not be all that old or all that wise. That could be the only solid explanation for why her pencil skirt was bunched around her waist and her ass was braced against the edge of Jackson Holden's desk. As if reading her mind, Jackson nuzzled her neck and kissed the curve where it met her shoulder.

"We shouldn't be doing this." She did not need a reminder.

"I know," Ryver moaned, leaning her head away to give him more access to her neck. His tongue slid over her skin. Warm. Wet.

"Ryver?" He pulled back to study her face, but she didn't dare meet his eyes.

"Stop wasting time. Just shut up and unzip your pants." Tough words from a girl who was making a slick mess of her thighs. Her core was trembling, just from a few of his kisses.

Jackson chuckled, but stepped back to follow instructions. He was awfully obedient in circumstances like this. Ryver was aware that it was a part of the game. He'd hand her control only to snatch it back from her. When her clothes were on properly, she could not get him to listen at all. Ryver glanced around. Watching him undo his belt did things to her that simply weren't decent for daytime. Staring back at her, the greenboard covered in white chalk written equations mocked her stupidity. This was a big risk. An insane risk. What were they doing?

The empty classroom was not the best place for this. Then again, where on a high school campus was the best place for this? They couldn't possibly go anywhere else. The chalkboard mocked her, "Why don't you go find a spot behind the bleachers? You can make out and get finger blasted right beside Monica Wynter."

Shame filled her, she'd busted Monica too many times behind those bleachers, hooking up with whichever delinquent. Now she was the hypocrite, hooking up with a delinquent in a spot she should not be. How many times did she tell Monica about her potential? Well, where is your potential, Ryver?

Desperate times called for desperate measures and Jackson Holden made every minute of every single day a desperate time. The way he touched ... Yeah, she wasn't wise and she might as well pick a spot beside Monica in detention.

We shouldn't be doing this.

No shit! The first issue, they swore they would never sleep together again. When they woke up in the same bed after Martin's send off party a week ago. Ryver woke up to a brutal hangover and a type of glow more commonly associated with Korean skin care, rather than finally getting laid after a year long dry spell.

Of all the people to pick!

That morning, she kicked him out of his own bed and he was gloriously, inappropriately, unacceptably naked. They vowed never to speak of it, think of it or do it again. Unfortunately, that vow only lasted a few hours. I mean, I actually needed to have something to never think of or speak of again. They've done it every day since.

There needed to a line though, a distinct line. Ryver was positive that said line existed before the point where she started to go to work without panties on. So, Tuesday. It was Wednesday morning when she decided to forego underwear. She went to school knowing she was going to be bent over a student's desk when Jackson rammed his way too big cock so deep, she would feel him in the back of her throat.

Jackson pulled her hips toward him. His erection hard against her bare mound. He reached between them and moaned in appreciation, "You're already soaked." His breath tickled her ear as he turned her body to press her over his desk. She shoved folders to the ground. They scattered across the floor and neither of them stopped to pick them up.

"Stop wasting our time and hurry the fuck up." Ryver growed at him. She kept her voice hushed. The analogue clock above the white board showed quarter to the hour. They only had fifteen minutes before the lunch break ended.

Crack! His palm collided with the bare skin of her ass. "Now, what did I tell you about your tone, Vice Principal Mckenzie. Try again." Ryver tried to twist around. Jackson stayed at her back and kept her in place.

"Jackson, hurry up and fuck me." She bit out.

"Hmm," Jackson hummed in her ear, "I don't think I will. I told you how we speak to each other. I think you need time to remember our conversation."

Ryver flipped her hair over her shoulder. The wavy black hair moved to reveal glaring light brown eyes framed by long lashes coated in mascara. Raised thick eyebrows dared her to push him. He was the one pushing her. Not once did he touch her clit or sink his fingers into her aching core. Instead, Jackson waited.

Ryver turned back to the clock. 12 minutes remaining. As they both silently waited another minute ticked by. Jackson sighed and gripped her skirt. He began to pull it over her hips. Ryver's hand shot out to stop him.

"What are you doing?"

"Fixing your clothes." He deadpanned.

"Jackson."

He cocked his head at her, "Yes, Vice Principal Mckenzie."

"Stop playing with me."

He raised his hands, "I'm not playing."

Another frustrated glance to the clock and she realized she'd lost so much time. Ryver gave in. "Jackson, please. Please put it in."

Over her skin, his touches were faint, barely there. They wound her tighter than the coils of a solenoid. She was as tuned as a guitar could get. The tip of him was wet, she knew it as soon as it probed her entrance. He didn't sink in, instead Jackson slipped it around in her wetness. Ryver pushed her hips back.

"Hmm, Are you getting impatient, Ryver?"

"Yes!" The answer accompanied the stomp of one stilettoed heel.

"Let me hear you ask me nicely again. I promise we'll be done before the students get back from lunch."

Ryver whimpered when she heard the crinkle of the condom wrapper opening.

"Please."

She heard his smile and felt his penetration. Every thick inch. A rugged groan harmonized with her quick inhale. She shoved big books from his desk as she took his thrust. Both of his hands steadied her. Jackson pulled her back to meet each forward drive and Ryver let him. She let him handle her body roughly without protest. No protest, just gratitude. A loud moan spilled from her lips. Jackson didn't stop. He reached around to cover her mouth. Her tongue flicked out to lick his palm, subconsciously wanting his taste on her tongue. If we had the time, I'd go to my knees.

Ryver clenched around him. Yes, for the last week she's sought after one goal. Not answers about her own weakness, about how she ended up under Jackson. Instead she chased a single goal, driving him to a lustful madness. She wanted to own his weakness, like he owned hers. His grip tightened on her hip, His thrusts grew frenzied. Her body responded.

"Hands behind your back." Ryver complied, doing so caused her to fall forward against the stacks of papers. Jackson released the grip on her hip to hold her wrists hostage against the center of her lower back. He used the grip as an anchor and forced her back into a deeper arch. Teeth rattling thrusts. He moved his hand and Ryver's lips parted with a gasp for air, drool slipped from her mouth and onto a student's paper. The red ink bled.

Over and over again, he hit that spot that made her vision go blurry. Her attempts to be quiet were useless. She couldn't see the time. The sound of slapping flesh and the wet cries of her walls filled the room. Anyone with ears could determine what was happening in this classroom.

She was supposed to be the one patrolling the halls. Anyone with a set of keys, Harvey, Christine, could open the door and they would see her, Vice Principal, Ryver Mckenzie getting put through medium density fiberboard. Oh God! The thought of it. Everyone would know. They would know she was so horny, she couldn't wait until the school day ended. She was such a mess she had to come down here during lunch break to get railed over the first flat surface Jackson Holden decided to bend her over.

I don’t even like him.

Jackson taught AP physics, calculus and statistics. She supervised and appraised him. She was actively risking her job, a position she fought tooth and nail for, for awesome dick and sucky personality. He was arrogant, talked way too much and was always out to upset her. His penmanship? Atrocious. His register? A point of contention every semester. He never reads the memos and his lesson plans? Extremely detailed and always late.

No one else made her scream like he did. No one fucked like he did and God! It should be illegal.

"Ready to come for me, Ryver?" She remembered the first time she’d heard that question. That first time between them was just as explosive as this time and she couldn’t breathe then. She couldn’t breathe now.