**Detention with Ms. Carter**

I knew I was in trouble the moment I walked into English class late—again. Ms. Carter’s sharp blue eyes locked onto me the second I pushed the door open, her lips pursed in disapproval. She was strict, but fuck, she was gorgeous. Mid-30s, with curves that made her pencil skirts look sinful, and an ass that had me shifting in my seat every time she turned to write on the board.

“My office,” she said coolly, not even breaking stride in her lecture. “After class.”

My stomach twisted—part nerves, part something else. I barely paid attention to the rest of the period, too busy imagining what those lips would look like wrapped around my cock.

When the bell rang, I lingered, waiting for the room to empty before slouching my way to her desk. She didn’t look up immediately, shuffling papers with manicured fingers. “Sit,” she finally said, nodding to the chair opposite her.

I dropped into it, slouching on purpose, just to see her reaction.

She sighed, folding her arms under her chest, making her tits push against the fabric of her blouse. “This is the third time this week, Jake.”

I shrugged. “Guess I need extra help.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is that a joke?”

“No,” I said, meeting her gaze, letting my own drop to her lips for a second. “I’m serious.”

A beat of silence. Then, something shifted—something in the way she uncrossed her legs, then slowly crossed them again, the slit in her skirt revealing a flash of toned thigh. “You think this is funny?” she asked, but her voice had dropped, gone huskier.

I leaned forward just slightly. “Not at all. I just think… maybe you *like* keeping me after.”

Her breath hitched—just for a split second, but I heard it. Then she stood, smooth and deliberate, rounding the desk until she was right in front of me. She smelled like vanilla and something darker, something that made my dick twitch in my jeans.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she murmured, one hand resting on the edge of the desk beside my thigh.

I grinned. “I know.”

Her fingers grazed my knee, then slid higher—slow, teasing. “You have *no* idea how much trouble you’re in.”

My heart hammered against my ribs as her hand crept up my thigh, stopping just short of where I was already hard for her. “Are you gonna punish me?” I dared to ask.

Her lips curled. “Oh, sweetheart. I already am.”

Then she dropped to her knees.

Fuck.

The sight of Ms. Carter on her knees in front of me, her lips parted, her eyes locked on mine as she undid my jeans—I nearly came right then. She pulled my cock out, stroking me slowly, her thumb brushing over the tip where I was already leaking.

“You’ve been imagining this, haven’t you?” she murmured, her breath hot against me.

“Every fucking day,” I groaned.

She laughed—low, wicked—then took me into her mouth.

I swore, my hips jerking as her tongue swirled around the head before sinking deeper. She sucked me like she’d been waiting for it, her lips tight, her hand working the base of my shaft in time with her mouth. The wet heat of her was insane, the way she moaned around me like *she* was the one getting off. I tangled my fingers in her hair, holding her steady as she bobbed faster, her nails digging into my thighs.

“Fuck, Ms. Carter—” I gritted out.

She pulled off with a wet pop, licking her lips. “You don’t get to come yet,” she whispered, standing up in one fluid motion. Then she turned, bending over her desk, her skirt hiked up to show me the curve of her ass—and the fact she wasn’t wearing panties.

My mouth went dry. Her pussy was already glistening, her folds swollen and pink.

“You want this?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at me.

“God, yes.”

I was on my feet in an instant, hands gripping her hips as I lined myself up. The first push inside was tight, wet, perfect. She gasped, her back arching as I filled her, inch by inch.

“Fuck,” she moaned, gripping the edge of the desk. “You feel *good*.”

I didn’t hold back. I fucked her hard, my hips slamming into her ass with every thrust, her slick cunt clenching around me like she was trying to milk me dry. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mixed with her choked moans.

“You like this?” I growled, one hand fisting in her hair.

“Yes—*fuck*, yes—!”

I could feel her tightening around me, her body shaking as she came, her nails scratching at the wood. It pushed me over the edge—my release hit me hard, spurting deep inside her as I groaned, burying myself as deep as I could.

For a second, there was nothing but our ragged breathing. Then she straightened up, smoothing her skirt like nothing had happened.

“Detention tomorrow too,” she said, her voice steady. “Same time.”

I smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”