The teacher should be like the conductor in the orchestra, not the trainer in the circus.

Because that was the problem with society. It cared too much about who you fell in love with but never about why. The why matters.

Why the anchor?""Because sometimes, it's nice to feel like there's someone who can save you.

I think I like you," I muttered, pressing my face to his muscled torso in a hug. I felt his heartbeat under my ear."I think I like you back.

You feel pretty ,manly to me," I breathed out, all jelly-legged with half-mast eyes."And you feel like a woman worthy of a fight, Ms.Greene.

Yes, Mel. That's exactly why I left without explaining. Because I think about you before I think about myself. Always remember that, Little Ballerina. Always.

Henri held herself as if only her arms could keep her pieced together, and I saw that behind all her fake control—throwing herself at a teacher, carving our dad out of her heart—was something fragile. I wish we’d seen it sooner—my dad and Mr. Flynn, they had a responsibility to see it, to do better. Those moments were my sister spinning out.

Henri held herself as if only her arms could keep her pieced together, and I saw that behind all her fake control—throwing herself at a teacher, carving our dad out of her heart—was something fragile. I wish we’d seen it sooner—my dad and Mr. Flynn, they had a responsibility to see it, to do better. Those moments were my sister spinning out.

His tongue fucks my mouth the way his cock fills my pussy. Deeply, urgently, and completely unrestrained.

His pleasure is my pleasure.

She’s exactly the kind of woman I’m drawn to. A woman who flees when hunted and comes alive when she’s caught.

I will gladly go to exhaustion waiting for him. Waiting for his discipline. Waiting for his affection. Waiting for the unknown.

Sex doesn’t have to conform to society’s standards to be sane. It doesn’t have to be slow and tender to be safe. And it doesn’t have to be free of leather cuffs to be consensual.

It’s universally known that the more forbidden something is, the more desirable it becomes. I feel this truth like a fist around my balls as I enter my classroom after lunch and find the forbidden object of my desire waiting for me.

I want you naked, sitting at my piano and rolling your hips like you’re fucking the notes.

Get out of your head.” He rotates his thumb and trails his tongue across my pliable lips. “Let it all go.

She blinks up at me, eyes unfocused, and grooves crease her forehead. “Where did you go, gorgeous girl?

Her back bows over the kitchen island, our empty plates rattling with the thrust of my hand. Two orgasms later, she stumbles into the living room to work on her homework, argument forgotten.