Isabella avoided him again.

Two more days of silence.

Two more days of torturing herself - pretending she could stuff this hunger back into its cage.

But the damage was done.

He'd tasted her.

He'd felt how wet she was under that prim little pencil skirt.

He'd heard the way her voice broke when she begged him to kiss her harder.

And worst of all?

She'd liked it.

Tuesday night, Evan was waiting for her in the library - back corner, where no one ever went.

Isabella walked in like she didn't see him.

Long skirt. Cream blouse buttoned high. Those black-framed glasses she thought made her invisible.

He let her pass.

Let her pretend.

But the second she reached the bookshelves, his voice cut through the quiet.

"Truth or Dare, Ms. Winchester?"

She froze - spine straight, breath catching.

Slow. So painfully slow, she turned.

"Stop it."

Her voice was barely a whisper.

"I can't."

He leaned back in the chair - legs spread wide, arms draped over the backrest like he had all the time in the world.

"You think I haven't noticed the way you've been running from me?"

His voice was low.

"So fucking scared you're gonna lose control again."

Her throat bobbed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar."

He stood - moving toward her with that lazy, predatory grace.

Isabella backed up until the shelf pressed into her spine.

His fingers curled around the edge of one of the books - caging her in without ever touching her.

"Truth or Dare?" he murmured.

Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.

She tried to look anywhere but at him.

"Evan - "

"Last chance."

His breath was warm against her cheek.

"Truth... or Dare?"

Silence stretched between them - thick and electric.

Isabella's breath quickened, chest rising and falling beneath her blouse.

Her nipples were already hard - traitorous little peaks pressing through the lace of her bra.

"You don't play fair," she whispered.

His mouth curved.

"Neither do you."

She should've walked away.

Should've slapped him. Reported him. Ended this before it destroyed them both.

Instead, she licked her lips.

"...Dare."

Game on.

Evan leaned in - close enough that her perfume was filling his lungs.

"I dare you..."

His fingers trailed down the spine of a book beside her head - featherlight.

"...to let me make you come right here."

Her breath caught - a sharp little gasp that went straight to his cock.

"No."

But she didn't push him away.

"No?" he mocked softly.

"Or not yet?"

Her pulse was hammering under her jaw - faster... faster...

Her thighs pressed together beneath that prim little skirt, trying to stop the ache building between them.

God, she wanted it.

He could feel how badly she wanted it.

"You think you're the one in control here," she whispered.

He smiled slow. Dark.

"I think you're about thirty seconds away from letting me slide my fingers into that sweet little pussy, Ms. Winchester."

Her breath caught.

Her cheeks flamed red.

"You're a boy."

His smirk sharpened.

"Then why are you dripping for me?"

She shattered.

Her hand flew out - nails digging into his shirt, yanking him against her.

Their mouths crashed together - rough, filthy, desperate.

He caught her wrists, pinning them above her head against the bookshelf.

"No touching," he growled.

"Not until you beg."

She whimpered into his mouth - body twisting under him, trying to grind against the hard ridge of his cock.

"Evan - "

"Shhh..."

He kissed down her throat - teeth scraping over the fragile line of her pulse.

"Good girls follow the rules."

Her breath came in ragged little gasps.

"Please - "

"Not yet."

He slid one hand down her body - over her blouse... down her waist...

Slow.

Teasing.

Then he slipped beneath her skirt.

Bare skin.

No stockings.

Just those delicate lace panties he'd been imagining for weeks.

"Oh, fuck..."

His breath hissed out between his teeth.

"Isabella."

She squeezed her eyes shut - like hearing her name on his lips might break her.

But it was too late for that.

He traced one long finger over the soaked silk between her thighs.

"You really are dripping for me."

His voice was pure sin.

"Do you have any idea how bad I want to taste you?"

Her hips jerked - completely out of her control.

"Evan, please - "

"Beg."

Her breath caught.

"I can't - "

"Yes, you can."

His fingers slid lower - pressing just enough to make her squirm.

"You're gonna beg for it like the filthy little secret you are."

She moaned - soft and broken.

"Please..."

"Please what?"

Her lashes fluttered.

"Touch me."

He grinned - slow and predatory.

"That's more like it."

One finger slipped beneath the lace - gliding through her slick heat.

Isabella's head tipped back against the shelf, eyes squeezed shut.

"Good girl," he murmured.

"So fucking wet for your student."

His thumb found her clit - circling lazy, torturous little strokes.

"You think about me when you're lying in bed with your husband?"

Her breath stuttered.

"Evan - "

"You touch yourself at night, imagining it's my mouth between your legs?"

Her body arched - grinding against his fingers.

"Yes..."

He groaned low and filthy against her throat.

"Fuck, I knew you would."

His fingers slipped deeper - two now - stretching her open.

Isabella bit down on a sharp little cry.

"Shhh... don't want anyone hearing what a dirty little slut you are for me, do you?"

Her nails clawed into the bookshelf - legs trembling.

"I'm gonna come - "

"Not yet."

He pulled his fingers out - leaving her aching - dripping down her thighs.

She whimpered - a helpless little sound.

"Evan, please - "

He grinned darkly.

"Truth or Dare?"

She whimpered.

"...Dare."

"I dare you to come on my fingers... while you call me sir."

Her green eyes snapped open - wide and wild.

"You're sick."

"And you're soaked."

His fingers slid back inside her - curling deep.

"Now say it."

Her breath broke.

"Please, sir."

He growled - low and dark.

"That's my girl."

Her body convulsed - legs locking around his wrist as she shattered right there against the bookshelf.

He swallowed her scream in a brutal kiss - fingers fucking her through every shaking, dripping wave.

By the time she went still, she was trembling.

He pulled his fingers out slowly...

licked them clean...

then leaned in close - mouth brushing her ear.

"Next time, you're gonna let me bend you over your desk, Ms. Winchester."

Isabella's breath caught - her thighs squeezing together.

There was going to be a next time.

They both knew it.

---

To Be Continued...

Next Chapter: The Desk

When Isabella learns exactly how hard it is to stay in control... when she's on her knees in her own classroom