The Library

Lilith

I stare at him, my heart racing as his words sink in. He’s been thinking about me? That one simple sentence hits me like a lightning bolt, sending a jolt of something dangerous through my veins. He stands there, so calm, so collected, like he already knows exactly how I’ll react. And, god, I hate that he’s right. It’s as if he knows everything—like the way I’ve fucked myself, thinking about him on those nights when I couldn’t get him out of my mind. The thought sends a rush of something hot through me—something that feels like shame, but darker, more intoxicating.

I should run. I should grab my things, walk out of here, and never look back. But I don’t. I can’t. There’s something about him—something dark, something magnetic—that keeps me rooted in place. His eyes never leave mine, like he’s holding me captive without even touching me. But the way his gaze trails over my body, the way he watches every small movement I make, it feels like he is touching me.

My breathing quickens, and I feel a warmth spread through my chest, down to my core. It’s a feeling I don’t want to admit out loud—a mix of fear and desire that makes my legs press together, my skin tingling with the awareness of him standing so close.

“You’ve been thinking about me?” I ask, my voice shakier than I want it to be.

He takes a step closer, and I can feel the heat of him now, radiating from his body. His presence is suffocating, filling the small space between us. Every instinct in my body screams at me to move, to put some distance between us, but instead, I find myself leaning into it. Into him.

“You already know the answer to that,” he says, his voice low, seductive. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, and the simple touch sends a shiver down my spine and makes my nipples harden. His fingers linger just a moment too long, grazing my skin, making my breath hitch. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t been thinking about me too.”

I bite down on my bottom lip, trying to suppress the surge of heat that floods my body at his words. Because he’s right. I have been thinking about him. I haven’t been able to stop. He’s invaded my every thought, turning my life upside down in a way I never saw coming. And now, standing here in front of me, with those piercing, fractured eyes and that smooth, commanding voice, he’s making it impossible to think about anything else.

His hand moves from my hair to the back of my neck, his fingers curling around the sensitive skin there, pulling me closer. The air between us is thick, charged with something I don’t want to name. I can smell him—clean, masculine, with a hint of smoke and darkness, something that makes my knees feel weak.

He leans in, his lips grazing my ear, sending another shiver down my spine. “You’re so fucking perfect, .” His voice is low, barely a whisper, but it’s heavy with meaning, a promise of what’s coming next. “Do you feel how much I want you?” As he presses himself against me, I feel the hard length of his huge cock, thick and unyielding through our clothes. The sheer size of it has my breath catching in my throat, my body trembling with a mix of desire and terror at just how big he is as I feel my pussy tighten, knowing I’m already soaking wet.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, his lips so close to my ear that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. “You like feeling me watch you, knowing that I’ve been following you.”

I don’t answer, but my body does. I feel the heat pooling between my legs, my pulse racing as his hand slides lower, his thumb brushing the side of my throat. Every nerve in my body is on fire, and before I can help it, a soft moan escapes my lips. The way his thumb traces over my neck sends my mind spiraling, imagining how that same hand will tighten around my throat, choking me while he fucks me. The thought alone has my body trembling, aching for more.

“Say it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, sending another wave of heat through me. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about me.”

I swallow hard, my hands curling into fists at my sides, my body betraying me as I lean closer to him. “I…” The words catch in my throat, and I shake my head, trying to fight against the pull he has over me. But it’s useless. I’m already caught in his web. “I have.”

The confession slips from my lips before I can stop it, and the second it does, his grip on my neck tightens just enough to make me gasp. He’s so close now, I can feel the hard lines of his body pressing against mine, and it’s intoxicating—the way he makes me feel. Like I’m powerless. Like I already belong to him.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice low and dangerous, and my body responds to the praise in ways I can’t control. Heat pulses through me, my nipples hardening under my thin sweater as the wetness between my legs grows unbearable. I’m drowning in him, in the way he’s taken over every part of me without even trying.

He presses his body against mine, pinning me to the bookshelf behind me, and I can feel the hardness of him through his jeans, pressing into my stomach. A whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it, and I immediately bite down on my lip, hating the way I’m falling apart in his arms.

“You’re already mine,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my jawline as his hand moves down to my waist, pulling me even closer. “You just don’t know it yet.”

His words send a rush of heat straight to my pussy, and I squeeze my thighs together, desperate for some kind of relief from the throbbing ache he’s caused. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him. But I do. I want it so fucking bad it’s unreal.

His hand moves lower, skimming the hem of my sweater, teasing the bare skin of my stomach as his lips ghost over my throat. I tilt my head back, giving him better access, and the second I do, his lips find the sensitive skin there, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of my throat.

“You feel that?” he asks, his voice a low growl against my skin as his hand slides beneath my sweater, his fingers brushing the waistband of my jeans. “That’s what you’ve been craving, isn’t it?”

I don’t answer, but the way my body arches into his touch is answer enough. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and he’s not going to stop until I’m begging for him.