Chapter 19 #2
The library is quiet when I walk in. A few students tucked into their usual corners, heads down, lost in textbooks and glued to screens. Perfect.
No one looks up when I slide into my usual spot near the back, tucked in the corner where the security cameras don’t quite reach.
I drop my bag and pull out my notebook and laptop. Pretend. Type a bunch of nonsense that doesn’t even look like words to appear busy.
And after that, I hear him—the slow, confident stride that makes my stomach tighten before I even see his face. Reece moves with the cocky ease he was born with, all swagger and no apology.
I don’t look up. I keep typing, pretending.
He sinks into the chair next to me.
“Hey, Red.”
My pulse skips, and my thighs tighten.
I turn my head and meet his eyes. He’s already smirking. Then I feel his hand, warm fingers sliding over the inside of my thigh. His touch is gentle, teasing, just enough to make my breath catch.
He leans in, mouth brushing the shell of my ear. “I’ve been thinking about this pussy all fucking day.” A shiver runs down my back. My thighs part instinctively. A silent yes. A fucking plea. “I want you dripping on this seat before we leave.”
His fingers slide higher, brushing right at the spot where I’m already throbbing. He presses there just enough to make my whole body jolt in my chair. I bite down on my lip to keep quiet.
His mouth slowly curves into a smirk, signaling he knows exactly what he’s doing to me and intends to enjoy every second of it.
“I’m already dripping,” I tell him. “Maybe you should’ve arrived sooner.”
His breath falters afterward, a quick inhale he barely manages to swallow. His jaw tightens, control stretched thin, and fuck me if that isn’t the hottest part, watching him fight himself because of me.
He pushes my underwear aside and runs his thumb through my folds. His touch is teasing and slow. He touches my clit lightly at first, almost mockingly, and my breath catches so hard I have to press my lips together to stay quiet.
My head dips. My fingers curl into my notebook so hard the paper crinkles.
He closes his eyes as he touches me, his dark lashes against his cheeks, and his mouth slightly opens on a sound he doesn’t quite release.
Seeing it hit him like that does something dangerous to me. I’m not the only one losing control.
“You’re soaked,” he murmurs under his breath.
His thumb strokes my clit again, slower this time, more cruelly, and my entire body responds. Heat rushes through me. A shiver runs down my spine.
I tilt toward him without even meaning to, desperate, shameless and so fucking aware of how exposed I am.
He slides a finger inside me, and I have to bite down hard on my bottom lip to keep the sound in.
My whole body tightens around him. Heat spikes sharp and dizzying. My head dips, breath shaking, fingers curling into the edge of the table while I fight not to move.
He gives me just enough.
A slow curl. A gentle thrust. Pleasure rolls through me in thick, pulsing waves that makes my thighs tremble. His thumb brushes my clit once more, and I swear my vision blurs.
He stops. Pulls his finger out slowly.
The loss hits harder than the touch did. I suck in a quiet breath, chest heaving, eyes lifting to his.
He’s watching me. Eyes dark, focused, hungry. His jaw is clenched tightly, as if he’s holding himself together by sheer will.
“Open,” he whispers.
I do, and he places his finger against my mouth, pressing it past my lips.
“Taste yourself,” he murmurs. “See how fucking sweet you are.”
I press my lips around his finger and suck, my tongue sliding along the pad.
His breath stutters. Eyes flutter shut for just a moment before snapping back open, wild and wrecked. His free hand grips the edge of the table, knuckles turning white. His throat works as he swallows hard, trying to hold back the sound threatening to tear out of him.
He leans in closer, his forehead nearly touching mine.
“Fuck,” he breathes. Silent. Shattered. “You’re killing me.”
He watches me suck his fingers. His chest rises fast like he’s fighting to keep it together in front of everyone. And god, that does something to me.
There’s a high in it. I live for this version of him.
The way he falls apart when he’s with me. The way one lick of my tongue over his finger can mess him up so badly he has to clench his fists to stay quiet. No one’s ever looked at me the way he does. No one’s ever needed me like this. I’ve never felt power like this before. Not over anyone.
But here’s the kicker—he has power over me too. One word. One look. One touch of his hand on my skin, and I forget my own damn name.
He leans in again, voice rough. “If we weren’t in this fucking library right now, I’d have your legs over my shoulders and your cunt in my mouth right now.”
I inhale sharply, my thighs squeezing together, still throbbing from where he touched me. Still aching from everything we didn’t finish.
He leans in, breath hot against my jaw, voice nothing but a rough promise.
“I guess I’ll have to wait until we’re at my place to make a bigger mess of this pussy.”
God, he says it so casually. So fucking filthy. And I swear I can feel it between my legs.
But I shake my head, holding back the moan building in my throat.
“I can’t come over tonight.”
His brows knit together. “What?”
“Lola’s sleepover,” I say, keeping my tone gentle as my heart races. “It’s for Liz. Her last night before she leaves.”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “So I’m just supposed to spend the night hard, rubbing one out while you’re off painting nails and talking shit with your girls?”
My knee brushes his. It’s a calculated drag of skin that’s pure tease. Enough pressure to let him experience it.
He stills as his eyes drop to my mouth. That familiar flicker of tension cuts through his jaw. He knows he’s being played.
“You’re evil,” he mutters.
I tilt my head, acting innocent. “You like it.”
He leans in again, his hand slipping under the table, stopping right at my knee this time.
“You know I’m gonna have to rub one out before next period now?”
I drag my teeth across my bottom lip, giving him that slow, mischievous grin, a look that I know drives him insane. “Poor baby.”
His gaze darkens instantly.
“You could help,” he says, voice dropping lower, filthier. “Come to the boys’ bathroom and suck my cock like the filthy girl you pretend not to be.”
I shut my laptop, hands steady even though my pulse isn’t.
Reece stands without a word, his eyes locking onto mine with that stare.
That quiet command. The one that says, “Come with me.”
He turns and walks toward the back of the library, not toward the busy main bathrooms. He heads to the small one near the archives with the flickering lights, the forgotten bathroom that no one ever uses.
I wait another second, pretending to scan my notebook before I look around. A couple of kids are still hunched over their textbooks, earbuds in. Nobody is paying attention.
I stand there, my heart pounding so loudly I swear it echoes.
Each step toward the back hallway sharpens everything. My breath. My focus. My hunger. The moment I go through the door, Reece locks it, and he is on me.
His hands. On my waist. My hips. My face. His mouth crashes into mine.
I gasp against him, my back hitting the cold tile as his mouth trails down my neck, teeth scraping my skin.
His breath is hot. Words even hotter.
“You’re gonna get on your knees for me,” he murmurs, tongue dragging over the curve of my throat. “Take my cock and let me fuck that perfect face.”
His hand moves up my thigh.
“Bet you’ll choke on it, Red. Fuckin’ love the way you gag.”
I shudder, hips arching into him, entirely captivated by the filth spilling from his mouth and the way his lips seal over my pulse.
I undo his jeans and drag the zipper down slowly, just to watch the way his jaw locks. My hand closes around his cock, hot and heavy in my grip, and I swear I feel the shift in him instantly. His breath stutters. Just once. Enough to tell me I’ve got him.
When I sink to my knees in front of him, my eyes lift to meet his gaze, making his whole body go rigid.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You have no idea what that does to me.”
His gaze sears into mine. Possessive. Dark.
“You on your knees, looking up at me like that, holding my cock as if it belongs to you.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “Makes me want to fuck you all day and night.”
I let my thumb trace the head, watching his control start to fracture.
“Jesus, Red,” he breathes.
His hand slides into my hair, steady and grounding. Not forcing. Claiming.
“Open that pretty mouth,” he whispers. “I want to see you take my cock. Want to see how bad you want it.”
My tongue teases the tip of his cock, enough to make him swear under his breath. Salt. Heat. Want. All of it hits me at once, and I don’t hold back. I lean in, take him deeper into my mouth, and feel his whole body react.
His head tilts back, eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched tightly enough to crack. He’s fighting himself, struggling to resist losing control.
Every sound he makes only makes me braver. I keep my pace steady, hand and mouth moving with purpose, knowing exactly how to work him without mercy.
When he looks down again, and our eyes lock, I see it happen. That moment when he’s gone.
“Fuck, Red,” he gasps. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
And for the first time, I realize exactly how much control I hold over him.
His grip tightens in my hair, a growl roaring from his throat. He thrusts once, twice, shallow and teasing, testing the edge of control he’s about to lose.
“Red…” His voice is strained. “You feel so fucking good.”
Then it shifts. His hips jerk forward, deeper and rougher, as I let him take control. His grip tightens where he needs me as he fucks into my mouth, using my throat the way he’s been craving since the second I dropped to my knees.
“Shit. That’s it. Just like that. Take my fucking cock. Take all of it.”
He’s wild now. Fingers gripping my hair tighter. Eyes locked on mine. Thrusts becoming ragged, like a man falling apart when there’s no chance to turn back.
Then he groans.
“Fuck… fuck, I’m gonna—”
His whole body stiffens. One hard thrust. Followed by another. And he comes, hot and hard, spilling down my throat with a filthy growl of my name. His eyes close, head thrown back, every muscle tense as pleasure takes over him.
His cock still rests on my tongue, twitching from the aftershocks, and I don’t move. I stay right there, eyes locked on his, mouth wrapped around the thing that caused him to lose control.
“Jesus, Red,” he mutters again, voice hoarse. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
His hand remains in my hair. Softer now, but still there. Still asserting itself.
I smirk around him before I finally pull back. A string of spit catches the light between us before I wipe it with the back of my hand.
“Pretty sure that was the point,” I murmur, licking the cum off my bottom lip.
Reece’s eyes drag down my body. Chest rising too fast. But then he smirks.
“You look so fucking perfect down there. You know that? All sweet and cock-drunk.”
I raise an eyebrow, still on my knees. “Cock-drunk?”
He grins, full of sin. “Don’t tell me you’re not. You just swallowed every drop, baby. You earned the title. Go sit on the counter now.”
He’s not asking; he’s telling.
My stomach flips, pulse racing, because I know exactly what that mouth can do. And let me tell you, the way that guy flicks a clit—mind-blowing doesn’t even cover it. It’s precision. It’s filth. It’s art.
My legs move before my brain catches up, as if my body has already made the decision and my mind is just along for the ride.
I slide onto the counter, breath caught somewhere between anticipation and chaos, because I know that once he’s between my thighs, I won’t remember my name, let alone care about anything else.
He steps closer, hands on my knees, opening me up.
“Sit back,” he says, voice low, mouth tilted in that cocky smirk that’s got my pussy pulsing already. “Let me give this pretty cunt what it’s been begging for.”
He drops to his knees, and I swear my lungs forget their job. They just stop. Full shutdown.
The first touch of his tongue rips a gasp out of me. He is confident, greedy, and relentless. He goes at my pussy like he’s been denied oxygen and this is the only way he survives.
One hand grips my thigh, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. There’s no gentleness in it. No hesitation. Only possession.
“Fuck,” I whisper, already shaking, already losing the battle.
His tongue works on me with purpose. Slow where it hurts, fast where it wrecks. He knows exactly what he’s doing and enjoys every second of watching me come undone. My vision blurs. My head tips back. My fingers claw at the edge of the counter until my knuckles ache, and my legs tremble.
His fingers slide into me, one curling perfectly inside.
I hiss at the first touch. A sharp inhale reveals how incredibly good it feels.
He grins against my pussy. The cocky, filthy kind of grin that says he knows I’m his.
“Fuck…” I choke out, breathless.
His tongue works my clit in relentless, filthy circles. It’s fucking heaven. It’s too much and yet not enough.
My legs start to shake. A moan punches out of me loud enough I have to slap my hand over my mouth, eyes rolling back as pleasure tears through me like wildfire.
He doesn’t stop.
It builds fast. Too fast. No teasing edge this time, no slow unravel. Simply fire and hunger. Only him.
And when I come, it’s violent.
My whole body locks around him, clenched and trembling, while his tongue continues to drag over my clit, as if he wants to overstimulate me.
And when he finally pulls back, his mouth glistening and his chin slick with everything he just pulled from me, he stays on his knees for a beat. Breath uneven. Hands still anchored to my thighs.
His eyes sweep over my body.
He looks proud of himself.
He should be. I’m a complete mess. Still trembling. Still trying to remember how to breathe.