The Headmaster's Fall (Regency Historical Couples' Fantasy Book 1)

On my honor, I do solemnly swear that no innocents, underage women, or Regency rakes were harmed in the making of this story.

Best regards,
Laurel Bennett

PS. This is a very short erotic tale. Not a full length novel. Hope you enjoy it!

A virgin, a rake, Regency England... pleasure.

Our heroine finds herself in trouble and sent to the headmaster's quarters. Punish her or pleasure her? It's his choice to decide.

Excerpt:
€œShe is a disgrace to the school, my lord,€ she chirped. She didn€t even wait for his lordship to speak. She just began her diatribe. But he held up a hand to cut her off.
He was a man of means. And he didn€t hesitate to display it. His waistcoat and jacket were of the finest quality, and I wanted very much to run my hands over the fabric. The jacket hugged his broad shoulders, and I found myself jealous. How ridiculous. Jealous that his jacket got such intimacy? His blond hair was slightly over-long. It brushed the top of his neckcloth and a lock of hair fell across his forehead.
€œBut sir,€ Miss Houghton began. He held up his hand again, and she pursed her lips, as though creating a dam to hold back the words.
€œYou may go,€ he clipped out. Then he dropped into a chair behind his desk. He looked a bit€¦ weary.
I turned toward the door, my heart hurting a little at the thought of not having my talking-to.
€œNot you, Miss Winters.€ He pointed his quill at Miss Houghton. €œYou.€
€œBut my lord, I need to tell you what she has done. It€s unseemly. She influences all the other girls. And if she€d not expelled, she€ll ruin them all.€
He raised his eyebrows at her as he repeated, €œYou. May. Go.€
She huffed for a moment, which reminded me of a peacock I€d once seen as he darted about the yard after a bug. €œWait.€ He said. She turned back with glee. He held out his hand. €œI€ll have the birch stick.€ She placed it in his hand with a disappointed sound. Then quit the room.
I turned to him slowly, not quite sure how to address him.
€œClose the door,€ he barked.
Close the door? If there was one thing I was certain of, a lady should never close a door and be alone with a man.
He lowered his head and cupped his forehead in his palm for a moment, massaging gently. €œClose the blasted door, Miss Winters,€ he barked again as he righted himself. He ran a hand through his hair, a mark of frustration. He sighed heavily.
I scurried to close the blasted door and approached him on legs that shook.
He pointed to the chair across from his desk. €œSit, Miss Winters.€