Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
"The cops think that Third Street has been using the library for deals," I supplied.
"Right," he said, chuckling. "And if I could figure out that this section is a dead zone in two minutes, I figure they have figured out it is a dead zone by now too. Tell your boss to turn the one by that teen room about ten degrees, and it will still catch the door to that room... and this section."
"Will do," I agreed because, though I was pretty comfortable about crime at this point, I didn't like the idea of gang members dealing heroin so close to a bunch of idiot - I would say impressionable, but let's face it, teens are idiots - kids. "But tomorrow."
"Why tomorrow?" he asked, the way his eyes were slightly hooded already telling me he knew exactly why.
"Well, you see," I said, moving a few feet to the left, knowing he was watching my ass as I moved, and liking that a bit too much, "this is the American History section, but it is also the anatomy section," I told him, pressing my hand to the endcap of the row of anatomy books that only young boys or med students ever seemed to check out.
"Anatomy, huh?"
"Yeah, and see," I said, reaching my hand down toward the hem of my skirt, "I seem to need to brush up on that."
"On anatomy," he repeated, not moving, just leaning against the wall, watching every small move I made.
When my hand snagged the hem of my skirt and started dragging it up, his eyes went down, watching the motion, his breathing getting a little more shallow as more and more of my thighs got exposed. "I mean, this muscle right here," I said, reaching down with my other hand to stroke up my thigh, "I seem to forget what this is called."
That did it.
He pushed off the wall - slowly, languidly, like he always did - and put down his copy of my book, stalking over toward me, his gray eyes on me, deep, penetrating, as I could find they always were when looking at me. He stopped when there was just a breath between us, head ducked down, his hand slowly rising to touch the skin right above my knee.
"This one?" he clarified, voice already getting rough.
"Mhmm."
"This is your quadricep," he told me, voice low and rumbling, moving through my belly with a delicious rolling sensation. "And this," he went on, finger sliding up... and in slightly. "Is your adductor," he informed me as his thigh met the uber soft and sensitive skin of my inner thigh, no doubt already feeling the heat just an inch or so above.
"That is," I started, taking a deep breath when his finger stroked up, teasing the space where my thigh met my pelvis, "very informative," I finished, swallowing hard.
"Do you need more... education?" he asked, eyes pinning mine.
"Definitely," I sighed out, hand curling into the shelf at my side to hold on, knowing my legs were going to get weak sooner rather than later. "I find that learning is best when it is... hands-on."
There was a noise that moved through him then, some primal, grunting approval sound that made shocks spark through my core, causing my walls to tighten almost painfully in need.
"Well, in that case, we should continue," he said, smirk just barely there, a ghost of an actual smile toying with his lips. "This," he said, fingers pressing right into the swatch of material between my legs, "is your pussy," he told me, smile spreading a bit when my other hand slammed down on his shoulder and curled into the muscles there, needing the stability.
"Really?" I asked, my voice airy. "And do you know more about this... pussy of mine?"
"Know fuckin' everything about it," he told me as his fingers found the side of my panties and slipped in. "Like how wet it gets... and all I got to do is talk to you. And how when I do this," he told me, swiping his finger across my swollen clit, "yeah, you make that sound," he went on when a choked whimper escaped me. "And when I do this," he said, fingers slipping down, then sliding inside me, curling instantly, then raking over my top wall, "you can't breathe," he told me, even as my breath got strangled in my lungs.
"Sugar," I whimpered, leaning in, putting my head into the center of his chest as he kept working my G-spot, driving me up hard and fast.
"That's a good sound," he rumbled, fingers starting to thrust in and out, keeping me primed, but taking away the promise - or threat - of an orgasm, and I had a feeling I wouldn't get one until he was inside of me again.
"What about..." I started then stopped, having to choke back a moan, knowing that we were in a mostly-empty library, but sound carried easily through the open space. "Your anatomy?"