Page 78 of Smut
I want to be free.
And I want him to show me.
Carefully, as if I’m made of glass, he slips a finger underneath the straps of my camisole and bra and slides them down my shoulder, his lips moving along, his kisses become harder, deeper, hungrier as he goes. I shudder, unable to hide what he’s doing to me.
I try to turn around, to meet his mouth, but he holds me in place with a hand at my waist before it slides slowly down my side, over my hips, and down to the hem of my skirt. He slips his fingers underneath the fabric and starts bringing his palm up along my thigh, so large and warm against my sheltered skin.
I have a hard time swallowing. Thinking. I want this so badly, but I know we shouldn’t and we shouldn’t do it here, but as his fingers curve in between my legs and brush my cleft, I nearly fall over, almost delirious.
“Fuck,” he hisses at my back, withdrawing his hand. “You’re bare.”
“I was at the beach earlier,” I tell him, as if that’s a reason why I’m not wearing underwear.
“That’s even hotter. I’m imagining grains of sand in all those places.” He grabs both my wrists, the book dropping to my feet, and raises them above my head so I’m gripping the bookshelves, my back still to him.
“Just hold on,” he whispers gruffly.
I don’t need to ask him what he’s about to do.
I could give you an orgasm in thirty seconds, he’d once said. I smile to myself, resting my forehead against a few copies of Patrick Rothfuss novels, grateful for their soft spines. Even if his claim was all bullshit, I want him to try.
I feel him drop to his knees behind me, his hands running along my ass, squeezing and kneading until they slip under my skirt and gently tease the bottom curve where my cheeks meet my thighs. I stiffen, my skin so fucking sensitive, like a hair-trigger. Yet I’m wanting more, afraid for more, knowing that things are moving so fast and needing them to move faster.
“Patience,” he whispers, his voice choked as his fingers slide between my legs. “Do you realize how wet you are?”
I do now. Slowly, deliberately, he drags his long fingers over my clit and I gasp as the bundle of nerves threaten to shatter me.
“God, you’re like silk,” he murmurs, groaning. “So perfect.” He presses the rough pad of his finger over the swell and makes a small circle.
Over.
And over.
Again.
Fuck.
Everything inside me tightens and I feel like a rogue bomb that could go off at any second, right here in the fucking school library. He keeps moving his finger, adding more and more pressure until the tension is nearly unbearable and my skin feels licked by flames.
My skirt lifts up higher and he’s adjusting his position behind me. Suddenly I feel his nose, the scruff of his chin on the back of my thighs and I nearly yelp from shock.
“Just relax,” he says huskily. “Bite on a book if you have to.”
I might have to. He parts my ass with his hands, firmly squeezing my sensitive flesh and I grow rigid in anticipation, waiting, waiting, waiting before I feel his wet tongue snake out between my legs.
The shock makes me shudder.
He’s licking my cunt.
From behind.
His face practically buried in my ass.
I hate to be one of those virgin erotica heroines that say oh gee golly but…
Oh. Gee. Golly. And fucking then some.
But before I can come to grips with it, with what’s actually happening to me under the bright lights of the library, one of his hands goes to the front of me and his fingers start tapping along my clit, sensitive beyond belief, as his tongue keeps fucking my cunt and I am going lose my fucking mind.