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“Are you going to be quiet?”
She nods.
“Good, because one sound from you and I stop.”
Her back hits the bookshelf with a soft thud, and she claps her hand over her mouth.
I flick my tongue against her clit.
Her knees buckle, but she doesn’t make a sound.
“Good girl,” I whisper.
Her breathing comes in bursts as I continue to tease that sensitive bundle of nerves with my tongue.
When her hips start to buck in a desperate attempt for more, I suck her clit into my mouth, giving her the pressure she’s asking for.
The muscles in her legs tense up, and I hear her head drop back against the shelf.
She’s close.
I slide a finger into her, brushing it against her G-spot.
Fuck, she’s so wet.
By the way she’s squirming under my touch, I can tell it isn’t enough. I add a second finger and start pushing her closer and closer to that edge.
I wish we were somewhere I could hear her moan my name.
The way she tastes, the way she feels makes my dick ache. With my free hand, I stroke myself over my pants just to feel a little relief from the effect she has on me.
Her pussy clamps down on my fingers and she comes. Her whole body trembles from her effort to not make a sound.
She looks about ready to crumple to the floor, so I stand up and let her lean on me until she catches her breath.
I pull back just a little when I feel her get steadier on her feet. When I look into her eyes, they’re nearly navy with desire.
Her mouth finds mine, and she kisses me with such passion, I forget how to breathe for a moment.
“Fuck me.”
“But we’re?—”
“I don’t care where we are. I need you to fuck me against this bookshelf.”
“I don’t have a condom.”
Not that I actually need one, but I haven’t been able to tell her that yet.
“I’m on the pill. I trust you.”
My common sense and self-preservation fly out the window at those three little words.
I trust you.
Such a simple sentence, and yet it’s heavy with meaning.
I’m too drunk on her to dwell on it long.
