**Detention Delight**

I knew she was trouble the minute she walked into detention. Emily fucking Wilson—all long legs, tight jeans, and that smirk that made my dick throb. She was 18, but she carried herself like she owned the fucking school, and hell, she kinda did.

She slid into the desk across from me, legs slightly spread, the fabric of her jeans straining against her thighs. Mr. Reynolds had left to get coffee, so it was just us—empty classroom, the hum of the fluorescent lights, and the way her fingers drummed against the desk, nails painted a deep pink that made me imagine them wrapped around my cock.

I should’ve been staring at my homework, but my eyes kept flicking to her. And then—fuck—I saw it. The slightest shift in her posture, the way her thighs pressed together for just a second before relaxing again. She was turned on.

She caught me staring and licked her lips, slow, deliberate. “Got a problem, Carter?” Her voice was low, teasing.

“Nope,” I lied, shifting in my seat because my jeans were suddenly too fucking tight.

She smirked and leaned forward slightly, elbows on the desk. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and keep watch?”

“Keep watch for what—”

But she didn’t answer. Instead, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her jeans, pulling just enough to show the lace of her panties—black, barely there. My cock jerked hard in my pants.

“Fuck, Emily,” I hissed.

She ignored me, sliding one hand down, under the waistband of her panties. I could see the muscles in her forearm flex as she touched herself, her breath hitching just slightly.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, gripping the edge of my desk.

Her fingers moved under the fabric, slow at first, then faster, her lips parting in a soft moan. “Mm… feels so good,” she whispered, more to herself than to me.

I was fucking paralyzed, watching her get herself off right there in detention. Her tits rose and fell with her breathing, her nipples hard against her thin cotton shirt. Then she bit her lip, arching her back slightly, and I knew she was rubbing her clit.

“Fuck, fuck—” Her breath hitched, her hips rocking subtly against her hand.

I was so hard it hurt, my cock straining against my zipper. I wanted to shove my hand down my pants right then and stroke myself while watching her, but I couldn’t fucking move.

Emily’s eyes fluttered shut, her fingers working faster now, her thighs trembling. “Oh shit,” she gasped, her back pressing into the chair as a quiet moan slipped past her lips.

She came like that—silent but for the shaky exhale, her pussy clenching around nothing as she rode out her orgasm. When she finally opened her eyes, they were dark, smug.

She pulled her hand free, fingers glistening, and smirked at me. “Thanks for the show.”

I groaned, gripping my dick through my jeans. “You’re fucking evil.”

She just laughed, licking her wet fingers clean before standing up. “Next time, maybe you’ll get to join in.”

And with that, she walked out, leaving me rock-hard and ruined in detention.