Sinfully Wet: A Book of Dripping Desires.

Chapter 1

Elena Morrison’s POV

I never thought I would end up like this. Bent over my own mahogany desk, skirt bunched around my waist with my panties stuffed deep in my mouth to choke back the moans trying to rip out of me. The cool air from the AC kissed my bare ass right before Jamal’s heavy hand came down again. Smack. The sound echoed through the empty principal’s office like a dirty filthy secret.

“Damn, Principal Morrison,” Jamal chuckled low behind me, that deep voice vibrating through his chest.

“You really out here acting all strict in these hallways ; but this pussy’s staying wetter than the school pool. Goodness knows you've been needing this.”

I tried to glare back at him over my shoulder, but my eyes rolled instead when he pushed back inside me. Thick. Long. Stretching me so wide I saw stars. My fingers gripped the edge of the desk until my knuckles hurt. This was wrong. So fucking wrong.

I was forty-two, married, respected ; the woman who suspended kids for chewing gum too loud. Yet here I was, taking every inch of this nineteen-year-old transfer student’s BBC like my life depended on it.

It all started forty-eight hours ago. Or maybe it started the moment Jamal walked into my school with that easy grin and those tight football pants that left nothing to the imagination.

I had been doing my usual rounds after practice when I heard the noises coming from the boys’ locker room. Moaning. Wet slapping. A girl’s voice crying out “yes, daddy” like she was getting paid for it. I pushed the door open ready to expel whoever it was ; and froze.

Jamal had little miss head cheerleader pressed against the lockers, her legs wrapped around his waist, skirt flipped up. He was pounding into her so hard the metal rattled. But what stopped my breath was the size of him. Thick, dark, glistening as he pulled out and slammed back in. The cheerleader looked like she was speaking in tongues.

Instead of yelling, I just stood there, thighs pressing together. Heat flooded my face. And lower.

Jamal noticed me first. He didn’t stop right away. He gave one more deep stroke, eyes locked on mine, and smirked.

“Evening, Principal Morrison. You want next ; or you just grading my form?”

The cheerleader squeaked and tried to hide, but Jamal just set her down gently, tucked that monster away like it was normal, and winked at me. “We good?”

I should have written him up. Called his parents. Expelled him on the spot. Instead I heard myself say in a shaky voice, “My office. Tomorrow. After last bell. We need to… discuss your behavior.”

Now here we were.

“Fuck, Elena ; can I call you Elena yet?” Jamal groaned as he gripped my hips harder and started thrusting deeper. Each stroke hit places I didn’t even know existed. I nodded frantically, the panties muffling my yes into a wet whimper.

He laughed ; that rich, carefree laugh that made my stomach flip even while he was rearranging my insides. “Look at you. All proper during the day, handing out detentions. Now you the one getting detained. Bet your husband ain’t hitting it like this, huh?”

I shook my head before I could stop myself. Mark hadn’t touched me like this in years. Quick missionary on birthdays, if I was lucky. This? This was something else. Jamal reached around and rubbed my clit with two thick fingers, circling fast while he kept that punishing rhythm.

“Tell me how it feels, Principal. Use them big fancy words you like.”

I spat the panties out just enough to gasp, “So deep… I can’t… Jamal, please—”

“Please what?” He slowed down, teasing now, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in so slow I felt every vein. “Please stop? Or please fuck you harder till you squirt on your important papers?”

My legs trembled. I was close already.

Embarrassingly close. “Harder,” I whispered. Then louder, voice breaking, “Fuck me harder.”

“That’s my girl.” He grabbed a fistful of my hair, not too rough but enough to make me arch, and gave me exactly what I begged for. The desk creaked under us. My breasts pressed against the cold wood, nipples hard as diamonds. I could hear how wet I was ; obscene, loud squelching sounds that should have humiliated me but only made me wetter.

Jamal leaned down, chest against my back, breath hot on my ear. “You know what’s crazy? I been watching you too. Walking around in them tight pencil skirts, looking all serious. Had me hard in class thinking about bending your fine ass over just like this. White queen like you shouldn’t be walking round starving.”

I came hard. No warning. My whole body locked up, pussy clamping down on him as waves crashed through me. I cried out, loud enough that if anyone was still in the building they would have heard. Jamal didn’t stop. He kept fucking me through it, drawing it out until my vision went blurry.

“Goodness knows you needed that,” he muttered, sounding proud. “But we ain’t done. Turn over.”

He pulled out, spun me around like I weighed nothing, and lifted me onto the desk. Papers scattered everywhere. My legs spread wide for him automatically. When he pushed back in, this time face to face, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. Deep. Hungry. Tongues sliding, tasting the mischief on him.

He fucked me like that, steady and nasty, one hand squeezing my breast through my blouse. “These titties been teasing me too. Bet they taste good.”

Before I could answer he yanked my blouse open, buttons flying, and latched onto my nipple. Sucking hard. The sensation shot straight to my clit. I was going to come again. Already.

“Jamal… we have to be careful,” I panted even as I pulled him closer. “If anyone finds out—”

He popped off my nipple with a wet sound and grinned, that cocky, dimpled smile. “Then you better keep quiet. Or maybe you want them to hear.

Principal Morrison getting her back blown out after school. Hell of a headline.”

The thought terrified me. It also made me clench around him again.

His strokes got faster, more urgent. Sweat glistened on his forehead. “I’m close, baby. Where you want it?”

“Inside,” I whispered before shame could catch up. “Fill me up.”

Jamal’s eyes darkened. He gripped my thighs, spread me wider, and drove deep. Once. Twice. On the third thrust he buried himself to the hilt and groaned loud. I felt him pulsing, flooding me with hot spurts. So much it leaked out around him as he kept moving through his orgasm.

We stayed like that, panting, foreheads pressed together. My body hummed. For the first time in forever I felt alive. Used. Satisfied.

Then my phone lit up on the desk beside us. Mark’s name flashed across the screen.

Coming home early tonight, *heart emoji* Missing you.

Jamal saw it too. He chuckled softly, still buried inside me, still hard. “Tell him you working late, Principal. Or I will.”

I stared at the message, heart hammering. What the hell had I just done? And why did part of me already want to do it again tomorrow?

Jamal pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip down my thigh with obvious satisfaction. He tucked himself away, zipped up, then leaned in and kissed me once more ; slow and filthy.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, voice low and teasing. “Or you want me to come find you during lunch? I got plenty more where that came from.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. But as he walked out the door with that swagger, whistling like he hadn’t just ruined me for my husband, I already knew.

This was only the beginning. And I was in so much trouble.