He’s right. We passed a few people hunkered down at study tables, heads buried in stacks of books, so engrossed that they didn’t even look up when we passed them.
Instead of speaking, I nod.
His mouth slips along the curve of my throat to the nape of my neck. I can feel his breath, hot and uneven against it, teeth scraping against the hard knot at the top of my spine. His handsfisted in my skirt, pulling it up so slowly I start to shake until it’s finally bunched around my hips.
A hand slips around, fingers between my thighs, silently urging me to open them. I widen my stance, nearly groaning with relief when I feel his hand cup itself around me, the length of his callused middle finger pressed against the wet lace covering my throbbing pussy. “I bet you’ve been wet since the second you watched me walk through the door.” He breathes it in my ear, barely even a whisper.
His other hand drifts upward, fingers skimming along the lace cup of my bra. Finding my nipple, he rolls it, plucking and squeezing until it’s hard and swollen between his fingers.
He taps his finger against my slit, each rhythmic tap sending shockwaves through me, vibrating against my core, until I’m clenching my teeth, forehead pressed into the back of the bookshelf to keep myself from crying out.
Like he knows how close I am, he releases me, both hands moving lower. Rough, blunt-tipped fingers curl around the waistband of my underwear, peeling delicate lace off my hips and down my legs until they fall to the floor completely.
I don’t even think about it. Don’t hesitate. I step out of my panties and plant my feet further apart, giving him room to do what he wants to me.
He sinks to his knees behind me, his palms smoothing over the curve of my ass. Fingers digging in, he pulls me closer. Thumbs slide lower, between my thighs, skimming the seam of me before gripping me, opening me from behind. He says something, too quiet for me to hear but I feel the breath of it, soft and warm against the heat of me. I feel it because his lips brush against mine with every word.
Ohmygod.
That’s the last coherent thought I have, right before he leans in to run his tongue up the center of me before flicking the tip of it against my clit.
I moan, the sound of it trapped in my throat, eyes squeezed shut, hips tilting shamelessly against the pressure of his mouth. Pushing myself against his face. Asking for more.
He makes another sound and this time I hear it, a growl, low and tight in his throat, shaped around a word.
Henley.
Fingers gripping even tighter, he pulls me closer. Buries his face in my pussy, teeth nipping and grazing over tender flesh. Lips and tongue, licking and sucking every inch of me he can reach, until he’s angling himself between my legs, my thighs quaking against his shoulders and I’m reaching between my legs to thread my fingers through his hair, holding on for dear life while he fucks me with his mouth. His tongue pushing into me, stroking and licking my clit.
I can feel his fingers, skimming over the curve of my ass, the tips of them tracing gently over its cleft, brushing against the tight hole at its center. I gasp, can’t help it, when I feel him push against it, the slightest of pressures, stroking me there while his lips close over my clit, sucking it hard and fast.
There is no gentle build. No warm spread of heat along the length of my spine. No tightening pressure in the pit of my belly.
There’s only Conner.
And then I’m coming, so hard and fast I can’t stop the scream that barrels its why up my throat. Before I can give it a voice, her reaches up and covers my open mouth with his hand. Surprised, I bite down, sinking my teeth into the side of his hand. He groans against me when my teeth make contact, but he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t move his hand away. He pushes it tighter against my mouth, while he keeps eating me, licking sucking my tender flesh until my fingers in his hair gripping so tight they start to cramp. My legs give out completely but he’s there, his arms hooked under me, holding me against him, my pussy quivering against his tongue and mouth while he keeps fucking me through my orgasm.
Before I barely have time to recover, he’s standing, hands gripped around my shoulders, turning me until my back is against the bookcase, he leans into me and I think he’s going to kiss me. The thought of tasting myself on his mouth is almost more than I can bare.
But he doesn’t kiss me.
His lips graze past my cheek, finding my ear so he can whisper into it while he pulls my skirt down over my hips. “Pleasure doin’ business with you, Daisy.”
And then he’s gone.