Page 10 of Dean's Delinquent

“I can do this all day. Can you?”

With a swift flick of my wrist, I smack the other cheek. My balls ache as they draw up even tighter as I watch her dance around like an errant girl trying to squirm the pain away. There’s something so endearing, so utterly beguiling, watching her like this.

Dammit. And I have a benefit dinner this evening. There’s no way I can ask donors for money while sporting the bluest of balls. If she were mine, I’d have her end the session with her smart lips wrapped around my hard cock. But it seems as if I’ll have to take matters into my own hands this time.

Frustration gathers in my spine as I drag my gaze down to the gusset of her panties. Soaked. God, but she’s practically dripping. All I want to do is drop to my knees and yank her down on top of my face so I can taste her, devour her, and make her squirm for a completely different reason.

Pulling back, I note her gaze. Still a bit of a spitfire. She’ll learn soon enough.

“What is Loftry University’s stance on sensationalist journalism?”

“Censorship,” she spits out again.

“Truly? Is that the only word you can say?” I whack her again, putting a touch more oomph into it.

“What else is there to say?” she shrieks, going back onto her tiptoes. “It’s censorship, no matter how you spin it.”

“I’m not the one spinning anything.”

Whack.

“Your article is the very definition of slant.”

“How dare you!” she cries out. “I have-“

Whack.

“Integrity,” I supply while keeping my tone as neutral as possible under the circumstances.

Whack.

“I know.”

Whack.

“You’ve spouted that nonsense far too many times.”

Whack.

I stare down at my handiwork as my cock pulses painfully behind my pants. The skin is mottled red and slightly swollen. She’ll definitely have trouble sitting as she redoes the article. As much as I want to continue, I seem to be getting nowhere.

Even now, she still clings to this notion that she did nothing wrong. There’s no way I’ll be able to beat it out of her and still get ready for the benefit in time. Somehow, someway, she’ll be back in here. I can almost guarantee it.

Tossing the paddle to the side, I ease her up and straighten her skirt. “That will be all. Change the article or don’t run it. Your advisor will give the yea or nay.”

“This is unfair,” she mumbles as she smoothes out the errant wrinkles in her outfit.

“Your protest is noted. Pull another stunt like this again, and you’ll be back in here for round two.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“My dear, Miss Hartwell. I can guarantee you, it’s a promise.”

ChapterFour

Ashleigh

Anger 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.

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