Page 32 of The Wallflower and the Running Back

His hand cups my bare knee and I freeze.

“You sure you weren’t thinking about it? Just a little?”

He nips my earlobe and my shoulder hikes up again. My mouth falls open, but before words find their way to my tongue, his fingertips begin to walk up my inner thigh. I draw in a quick breath and hold it, opening my legs as he travels to the hem of my skirt, his fingers flirting with the fabric.

“Good girl,” he says, his nose grazing my ear.

My fingernails scrape against the table as I ball my hands into fists. Logan reaches forward with his other hand and flips open his folder, pulling out a few random papers and spreading them out as if either of us are reading them at all. My eyes dart to the librarian, our favorite one, as in the one who hates us. Her back is to us as she sorts through a cart of reference books. Other than her and a few people in the study rooms, we’re alone.

Alone, but not alone. And that is . . .

“Spread.”

We’re not looking at each other, our gazes lost in the scene Logan created on the table. I do as he asks, sinking down a little more in my chair and parting my knees. My mind is racing to calculate the dimensions of this table. Is it long enough to shield me from anyone walking in? Can the librarian see me if she turns around? What would people at my sides see? Behind us?

Logan’s hand bunches up my skirt and his finger slides down the center of my panties, and I quit caring about numbers and voyeurs.

“Someone is very wet,” he says.

I gasp.

“Shh,” he says, his mouth back to my ear.

“You just keep your eyes on my study guide. Right here.” His left hand pats the papers, which aren’t study guides at all. I stare at my own handwriting. I stare so hard that my eyes haze and the words blend into fuzzy pictures.

Logan’s finger slides down my center again, and my legs part even more.

“There you go,” he says, his voice a low hum, not quite a whisper but low enough it’s just for me.

I exhale a ragged breath. Nobody has ever touched me like this. Everything before this moment was so clinical. Textbook. We are way off script. And I like it.

His finger circles my swollen middle and I squirm in my seat, wanting more relief. He teases me this way for almost a minute before his fingers slip under the cotton strip covering my pussy, pulling it aside as his knuckles graze against my tender, wet skin.

“Ah,” I eke out at the feel of him against me.

He flicks my clit, and I slide down lower in my seat. My legs are spread under the table and my skirt is bunched up around my hips, but my eyes are still glued to the pages on the table.

“Next time, we go to the stacks so I can drop down there and taste you,” he says, his voice a little louder this time. My body rushes with adrenaline and my gaze flashes to the librarian. She’s still sorting texts, completely unaware.

“She can’t hear me,” he says. “But she might hear you.”

His finger sinks in and his thumb presses against my clit, circling it slowly. I bite my lip, which isn’t going to be enough, so I bring my fist to my mouth and bite that as he pushes his finger in and out.

Logan’s free hand pulls my fist away, then he nudges my chin so I’m facing him. I’m in a trance, my eyes unable to blink, my lips parted just enough to breathe. My inhales and exhales are controlled by him, matching him stroke for stroke as he pushes two fingers in and works my center.

“You want to come in the library, Shortcake?”

I nod and breathe out, “Uh huh.”

His eyes dip to my breasts, and I suddenly regret wearing a turtleneck. Logan glances to his left then back to me, a devious smirk pulling up as his eyes dim. His left hand jerks my sweater up enough for his hand to slip underneath, leaving me still covered but clearly being groped.

“Logan—” I utter.

“Shh,” he coaxes, glancing again at the librarian then scanning the library space before sliding his hand over my breast and tugging the lace cup of my bra to the side. I don’t care if it’s torn at this point.

He takes my nipple between his thumb and index finger and rolls the hard peak with sweet pressure. His other fingers push in deep and I drop lower against them, wanting more. I writhe, unable to keep myself from bucking my hips under the table as he tugs my hard nipple, pinching then flicking while he palms my pussy and sinks his fingers in and out.

My mouth falls open as my climax builds and I flash a glance to the reference desk when I hear the librarian sneeze. My wide eyes are pained with pleasure and panic, and it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever felt. Just as I’m about to fall over the edge, Logan’s mouth covers mine, and he sucks in my bottom lip, sliding his tongue against my skin as he rubs his thumb around my soaking wet pussy, drawing out the longest orgasm of my life.

---