The Library

Lilith

W hen I pull up to Sebastian’s house, my heart pounds in my chest, but I don’t hesitate. I don’t knock. Confidence—that’s the game I’m playing tonight. I’m not here for sweet words or gentle touches. No, I’m here to challenge him, to make him feel what he makes me feel.

I push the door open and step inside, my little black dress clinging to every curve, chosen specifically to entice him, to play the game he’s started. But the moment I walk in, I’m hit with the sight of him, and suddenly, my confidence falters.

He’s standing there, casual as ever, in a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt that clings to his muscled frame, the fabric stretching across his broad chest. His tattoos crawl up his arms, winding up his neck and down to his hands, each one marking him as dangerous as he is irresistible. The ink seeping out beneath the sleeves of his shirt, and the backwards hat he’s wearing makes my mouth go dry.

It’s the most simple, effortless look, but it has my body responding instantly. I can feel the heat pooling between my legs, and I silently curse myself for reacting this way. But god, he knows what he’s doing. Even just standing there, he’s in control, and I’m already struggling to keep up.

The air between us feels electric, charged with an intensity I’ve never experienced before. Sebastian’s words, the weight of his presence, the heat of his breath against my skin—everything about him makes my pulse race. My body feels like it’s on fire, my senses overwhelmed by his touch, his scent, his voice. It’s like he’s taken over every part of me, and I can’t tell where I end and he begins.

When he tells me I’m his, I don’t even hesitate. The truth is, I want to be. There’s something terrifying and exhilarating about giving myself over to him, about surrendering completely to the control he exerts over me. It’s not just the way he touches me—it’s the way he looks at me, like I’m the only thing in the world that matters. Like he would burn the whole world down if anyone tried to take me from him.

His fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear, lingering on my skin. His touch feels like fire, seeping into my bones, and when he speaks, his voice is dark, dangerous. “You’ve been fucking yourself, thinking about me. Crying out my name while you come, like I’m the only god you’ll ever know.” His lips curl into a dark smile, and he leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Such a fucking good girl.”

My body betrays me. I shiver, my breath catching in my throat. I can feel the tension winding tight in my chest, every nerve in my body alive with his presence. It’s like I’m trying to hold myself together, but the way he looks at me, the way he touches me, I know I’m already undone.

“I saw you,” he whispers, his hand trailing down my neck, resting on my shoulder like a weight I can’t shake. “I saw the way you fucked yourself, the way you came so hard just thinking about me.”

My breath hitches, my eyes widening as the meaning of his words sinks in. He’s been watching me. All this time, he’s seen everything. The shame and the heat flood me all at once, and I can’t move, can’t speak. I’m stuck between terror and want, because despite everything, I know I still want him.

“But you didn’t know that, did you?” His hand moves lower, brushing against my breast, teasing, and I feel like I’m burning under his touch. “You didn’t know I’ve been watching you all along.”

A tremble runs through me. His voice is a snare, pulling me deeper, and I don’t even want to fight it. I can’t. I’m drawn to him, drawn to this, even though I know I shouldn’t be. He’s everything I’ve feared and everything I’ve craved, all wrapped up in one dark, dangerous man.

“Why come all over your own hand when you can come all over my face again?” His words strike me, leaving me breathless, my body pulsing with need. The memory of him between my legs, his mouth on me, devouring me—it’s too much. My heart races, and my lips part, but no words come out.

He pulls back just enough to let me catch my breath, but his hands are still on me, still keeping me anchored to him. I’m stuck in this moment, trapped, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to leave, that wants to stay right here, with him.

“You want answers?” His voice is low, commanding, making my pulse race even faster. “I’ll give you answers. But only if you’re ready to hear them.”

Our eyes lock, and I know I’m at the edge of something I don’t fully understand. But I’m ready to fall, ready to see where this leads. The need, the fear, it’s all wrapped up together, and I can’t separate them. I don’t want to.

“Tell me, ,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear, making me shudder. “Are you ready?”

My lips part, but I can’t form words. All I can do is nod, trembling under his touch, my body aching for him, for everything he’s promised. And in that moment, I know I’m lost. I’m his.

“You better be damn sure you’re ready,” he growls, his voice thick with desire, “because once I give you the answers— and everything else you’re craving—you’ll be mine. And you’ll be crawling on your fucking knees, begging for more than just answers.”

His hand tightens around my throat, and I gasp, my knees going weak as his lips crush against mine once more. The kiss is brutal, demanding, his tongue invading my mouth with a hunger that leaves me breathless. I cling to him, my fingers digging into his arms, needing something to hold onto as the world spins around me.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck, biting and sucking at my skin in a way that makes me whimper. My body arches into him, desperate for more, desperate for him to take me, to claim me in every way possible. His fingers grip the hem of my dress, and in one swift movement, he pulls it over my head, leaving me exposed, vulnerable, and aching for his touch.

A dark smile curls on his lips as his thumb brushes across my nipple, the sensation instantly sending a shiver through me. I gasp, feeling it harden under his touch, my breath catching in my throat. When he pinches it hard, a sharp cry escapes my lips, a mix of pain and pleasure that surges through me like electricity. The way he looks at me, the satisfaction in his eyes, makes my pulse race even faster.

Every part of me is hyper-aware of him, of how his control over my body feels so complete, so overwhelming. It’s intoxicating. Even the pain, the way his rough touch sends a burning jolt through me, makes the heat between my legs burn hotter. I hate how much I love this, how much I want more.

He steps back, his eyes raking over my body, and the way he looks at me—like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes my breath catch in my throat. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes speaks volumes. I’m his, and there’s no going back now. His fingers trace over the curves of my breasts, leaving me speechless. I didn’t wear a bra tonight, just my black lace thong. I wanted to seem confident, but now I’m so nervous I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“On your knees,” he growls, his voice low and commanding.

My heart races, my body trembling as I slowly sink to the floor, my eyes locked on his. The floor is hard against my knees, but I don’t care. All I can think about is him, the way his presence dominates the room, the way his gaze makes me feel like I’m the only thing that matters.

He stands over me, towering and powerful, and for a moment, I feel small—so small compared to him. But it’s not just his size. It’s the control he has, the way he commands every ounce of my attention, the way he makes me feel like I’m his in every possible way. His fingers trail down my cheek, gentle but possessive, and I shudder at the intensity of his touch.

“You said it,” he murmurs, his voice dark and dangerous. “You’re mine, . And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

My mouth goes dry, my heart pounding in my chest as I look up at him, my body aching with a need I can’t even begin to explain. I’ve never wanted anyone like this, never needed someone so completely. And the way he looks at me, the way his voice wraps around me like a dark promise—I know he’s about to rip everything from me.

But I want it. I want him.

He undoes the button on his jeans, and my breath hitches as he slowly lowers the zipper, the sound filling the space between us like a gunshot. My eyes are locked on his tattooed hands, and it feels like time has slowed. The ink covering his skin, dark and dangerous, contrasts with the raw masculinity of the moment, making my pulse race even harder. My mouth waters at the thought of what’s to come, my body reacting before my mind can catch up.

I’ve never done this before, never been in this position, but something about the way he’s looking at me, the way his presence dominates the room, makes every ounce of nervousness dissolve into raw, desperate need. His gaze holds me captive—dark, predatory, and full of unspoken promises. I want to please him, to be everything he’s ever wanted. Hell, I want to give him more than that.

The way he smirks, knowing I’m watching, knowing I’m trembling with anticipation, only adds fuel to the fire inside me. His jeans slide lower, revealing the hard lines of his hips, and my heart stutters. My body is humming with a need I’ve never felt before, an ache that spreads through me like wildfire.

“I’ve waited for this,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down my spine. “And you’re going to be perfect, aren’t you, ? My perfect little whore.”

The words shouldn’t make me feel the way they do, but they do. Heat floods between my legs, and my knees feel weak as the weight of his control settles over me. I nod, barely able to think, my mind already spinning with thoughts of how I can please him, how I can be exactly what he wants.

This is it. I know I’m about to cross a line I can never come back from, but I don’t care. All I want is him.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” he asks, his voice a mix of amusement and dark desire.

I shake my head, unable to speak, my body trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. He kneels in front of me, his fingers gently tilting my chin up so that I’m looking into his eyes.

“Good,” he whispers, his breath hot against my lips. “Because I’m going to teach you how to worship me. I’m going to teach you what it means to be mine.”

My heart skips a beat at his words, my pussy already soaking wet, my body aching for him in ways I never thought possible. He leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that’s softer than I expected, but no less intense. And then he pulls away, standing up once more, his eyes dark and full of promise.

“Now, be a good girl and show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

I take a deep breath, my fingers trembling as I reach for the waistband of his jeans, my heart pounding in my chest as I slowly pull them down. I don’t know what I’m doing, but the way he’s looking at me, the way he commands my every thought, my every movement—I know I’ll do anything to please him.