Page 18 of The Queen's Denial

He replaces his hand with his cock, plunging it directly between my lips. He leaves me there, head squeezed against plush carpet, to choke on it while he rips his shirt off. He gazes back down at me as soon as he’s done like an unforgiving god. “Look at how those pretty pink lips wrap around my cock. Beautiful.” I wear pink lipstick just for this. He seems to love the streaks it leaves on his cock, his shirt — everywhere.

He grabs the back of my head and yanks my braids up so that I move with him until I’m kneeling, his dick still hanging out of my mouth, my head backed up against the book stacks again. Then he sets a punishing pace, plunging into me, pushing himself deep into my throat again and again. He hasn’t asked for permission once, and for some reason, it’s everything I never knew I wanted.

He loves my gagging sounds, so even though I’ve gotten good at holding them in over the course of my dick-sucking history, I exaggerate every little heave I feel in my throat, choking and coughing around his girth.

Andy holds me down, “Your mouth was made for my cock,” he groans.

He calls me all sorts of names, and for whatever strange, unknowable reason, I revel in it. Just for this short period of time. Just for this stolen thirty minutes in the library.

He pulls out of my mouth without coming, as he always does, and I know what’s next. He’ll torture me until I’m ready to explode, and then fill me all at once and torture me more, give me far less than I need, and then suddenly, far more than I can handle.

He pulls me up by my braids again until I’m standing, before crashing his mouth to mine. He rips off my tight white t-shirt, but he keeps the skirt on today. He hikes it up my thighs as he lifts me onto his waist and juts into me all the way, filling me in one quick motion. We both moan into our messy kiss, barely able to keep our lips in place, but unwilling to break the connection there. He sets a vigorous pace, taking an ass cheek in each hand and palming them open, massaging until I groan into his mouth.

“That’s right; perfect, proper little Chee-chee likes to get fucked hard, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” I whisper against his mouth. I look up for a split second and see those horn-rimmed glasses crushed against my face, and for some reason it’s the sweetest, hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna—”

He stops moving inside of me abruptly, and my budding orgasm dies a painful death.

“No, please!” I whisper-shout.

He pinches my nipple and swallows my scream. “Someone might hear you, Ms. Yan. And if they do, I’ll have to ensure you can’t make a sound next time. And that would be a shame because then I wouldn’t get to see this pretty,” he nips my lips as he speaks, “pink,” nip, “hot,” nip, “mouth.” He grabs my jaw, pushing on the sides until I open wide to accommodate his tongue, anywhere it wants to go.

I sigh as he puts the tip of his cock to my opening and rubs. “Please, sir.”

“Please what, my good little girl?”

I feel blood rush to my face at the name. It’s because I’m pretending to be this perfect little princess. That’s all. “Please stick your cock in my pussy.”

He grunts against me, slipping the tip into me further. “Like this?” he asks, continuing his torture.

“No, all the way in.”

“How do you want it, baby? Are you really a good, sweet little girl?

I know what he wants to hear. “No. I want it fast. Hard.” I breathe out, mouth open, right against his neck. “Dirty.”

He pushes into me finally and we slam together with a collective grunt. Thoughts of being quiet dissolve quickly as we both work ourselves into a frenzy. I try to push him down to get on top, but I never win, and he easily overpowers me, grabbing me like a rag doll and throwing me back against the book stacks. Books fall around us as he pounds into me, squeezing and pushing my tits up, sucking on my neck as he grunts out against me with every slam of his hips. He makes me come again and again, until he finally spills into me, sweating, panting, and somehow continuing to hold me up, pinned against him and the shelves so tight I can barely breathe.

While the rest of his body releases with his orgasm, his hands tighten on my shoulders, and he pulls me down to lie with him amongst the spilled books. “Was this a good idea… or what?” he asks me as I clean up shakily, his casual arrogance on full display.

I know what he means — we both know how much I love books of any kind — but I pretend I have no idea what he’s talking about. “What, sex? Sex is always a good idea, whether the actual sex is good or not.” I shrug. “But I’ve taught you a few things. You’ve done pretty well.”

He moves himself casually, but a moment later, grabs the very area I just cleaned and pushes into my very wet and sensitive core. I yelp as my entire body jumps. “Whoa! I can’t!”

Suddenly, his head is under my skirt. “Did you teach me this, Chee-chee?” I feel his hot breath on my center, just before he starts to suck relentlessly. I squirm and push his head away, exhausted and far too sensitive for more. “Andy,” I gasp, “seriously, I don’t think I can—” I can’t say anymore, because he sucks again, and it’s so overstimulating that the zip of electricity I feel through my body takes all my words.

He finally releases me a moment later, and I take the time to catch my breath instead of admonishing him, which might be a mistake. His face is still down there, stuck between my legs, and he fills the silence with his smartass mouth. “Maybe your dream wasn’t to get fucked against a stack of books. Maybe your dream was to get eaten out on top of them.” His voice vibrates through me, and against all imaginable odds, I feel another orgasm building. I definitely wouldn’t say it feels good — it’s too overwhelming. A mix of nails on a chalkboard and unbearable, painful pleasure.

“Andy, it—it feels—”

He sticks his fingers in and curls them up as he bites down, just a bit higher, and I jerk as the wave of my climax crashes over me. I clench my fist in his hair, my toes curling and my entire body going rigid as I squeal at the overwhelming sensation.

“Let’s try that again. This was a good idea, right, Chee-chee?” He grabs my chin and forces my face up to his. Our eyes meet and I see the challenge in them: will I fight back the way I always do? Or will I give in? This will be the rare occasion that I do the latter. I’m too tired to argue right now.

“Yes,” I breathe out, closing my eyes as my body tingles, and an aftershock twitches through me.

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