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    Top of His Naughty List
    Top of His Naughty List
    Top of His Naughty List
    Ebook87 pages2 hours

    Top of His Naughty List

    By Sassa Daniels

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    Elise

     

    When I let my mouth run away with me in front of my students, I find myself at the top of my colleague's naughty list. I've never viewed Iain Kennedy as anything more than a friend, but when he shows me his dominant side, I realize he's just what I've been looking for. I've always hated Christmas, but with Iain by my side, perhaps this year will be different.

     

    Iain


    For as long as i can remember, I've wanted Elise, but I've waited for the right time to make her mine. When her behavior gives me cause for concern, I decide to take her in hand. As Christmas approaches, I'm determined to make it one to remember.

     

    Top of His Naughty List is a steamy romance novella with elements of BDSM. If such things offend you, please do not buy this book.

     

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSassa Daniels
    Release dateOct 3, 2022
    ISBN9798215364178
    Top of His Naughty List

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      Top of His Naughty List - Sassa Daniels

      CHAPTER 1

      Elise

      From the moment I woke, I knew this wouldn’t be my day. First, I overslept because I forgot to set my alarm last night, something I never do. Then I got pulled over and slapped with a speeding ticket on my way to work. After that, I grabbed breakfast in the college cafeteria, only to get a piece of bacon stuck in my throat.

      While a dozen students watched in bemusement, I ran about waving my arms until I realized nobody was coming to my rescue and performed the Heimlich maneuver on myself. Stricken with fear I was about to choke to death, I threw myself over the back of a chair. It took three attempts to dislodge the bacon from my windpipe. It’s a miracle I came away without a broken rib.

      My day went from bad to worse as I then unwittingly walked the entire way across campus to the lecture theater with a trail of toilet paper streaming out from under my coat. Some kind soul yelled across the quad to alert me. As I twisted around to pull it out of my ass, I slipped on a patch of ice and landed in a heap.

      All that would have been misfortune enough for anyone, but for me, it was just the beginning. The real disaster struck when I let my mouth run away with me during my lecture. When I finally stopped talking and glimpsed my horrified audience, I pictured, in vivid color, my career going up in flames.

      The smattering of sarcastically slow applause that greeted the end of my rant told me what I already knew. I’d messed up big. The worst of it is that the lecture should have been a piece of cake. It was meant to be a fluffy, feel good talk to end the semester. I was going to tell them all about Christmas in the Middle Ages — wassailing and Twelfth Night, things like that.

      It’s not really my area of expertise, but I did my research. Things started off well, and my lame, self-deprecating jokes even raised a few smiles. Then, somewhere along the line, I went completely off-script. All my pent-up frustrations about the holiday season poured out. Once I started venting, I couldn’t stop myself.

      At first I’d come across like a bitter, twisted loner, a female Grinch. It was tragic, but at least my words made some sense. Then I felt a surge of anger and ended up ranting like a lunatic about rampant commercialization, misplaced sentimentality, and the pressures people put themselves under over the holidays. My arguments quickly descended into gibberish and — oh, shit, on a stick! — I used The F-Word. If my frazzled brain recalls correctly, I threw it out there several times. That alone will land me in front of a disciplinary committee if my boss ever finds out.

      So, er, thank you for coming, I croak into the microphone when it becomes clear nobody’s getting ready to leave. I hope you enjoyed my talk. Merry Christmas.

      Merry Christmas? After everything I just said, that’s how I end the lecture? No wonder people are looking at me like I’ve gone nuts.

      I dim the lights to ensure everyone understand there will be no Q and A after that shitshow. The only thing anyone’s likely to ask me after that performance anyway is if I’m high. I kind of wish I had the excuse, but there were no drugs talking just now. That was all me.

      Gathering my papers together, I beat a hasty retreat from the lecture hall. Cursing my stupidity for volunteering to hold one of the university’s Christmas talks when I hate this time of year, I hurry across the quad to my favorite campus coffee shop. If it wasn’t so early I might have headed for the nearest bar to drown myself in a vat of alcohol. But downing margaritas before noon isn’t my style, so I’ll make do with a double espresso instead.

      As I walk through the door of Sammy’s Coffee Shop, my heart all but stops. He’s here, the man I’ve been lusting after from afar. Jake Metcalfe, who arrived on campus a week ago to take up a professorship, is sitting by the window. It’s perfect. Since he got here, I’ve been dying to get him on his own. I’ve had a schoolgirl crush on Jake from the moment I first laid eyes on him. Then my friend Rhian spotted him at a BDSM club, and I’ve been dying to know more. I’ve been looking for a man like him for years. He’s smart, handsome and hung like a donkey, if the rumors are to be believed. He’d be able to initiate me into a world I’ve dreamed about since I read my first erotic romance.

      With my pulse racing so hard I could pass out, I make my way to the counter.

      What can I get you, Dr. Matthews? the owner, Sammy asks. The perky redhead has on a green sweater with snowmen and penguins all over it. I have to fight hard not to sneer at the juvenile garment.

      Regular latte, please. Forget the double espresso. I don’t need that much caffeine right now. My heart’s already racing.

      As Sammy sets about making my drink, I steel myself to approach Jake. It’s tricky. How do you go about asking a man you barely know to tie you up and spank you? It’s not something I can picture myself doing. Trying to figure out how to broach the subject, I accept my coffee and move to the register to pay.

      I’ll get that. A deep, masculine voice from behind sends a thrill shuddering through my bones. Has he actually come to me? Nerves jangling, I slowly turn to greet — not Jake. Damn it! I should have recognized my colleague, Iain Kennedy’s voice. His grim expression signals a deep displeasure as he stares down at me. I have a sinking feeling he knows about my disastrous performance in the lecture theater. Although he’s not my boss, he is in a more senior position and he’s the one who organizes the special lecture series in the run up to Christmas.

      That’s okay. I can get it myself, I say, rummaging at the bottom of my purse to gather enough loose change together.

      Elise, I said I would get it.

      Iain speaks with a firmness I wouldn’t have expected from my

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