Page 43 of The Library

“I—” she starts, but her voice falters, and I can see the confusion, the conflict, playing out on her face.

I reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her skin. “You’ve been fucking yourself, thinking about me. Crying out my name while you come, like I’m the only god you’ll ever know.” My lips curl into a dark smile, and I lean in closer, my breath hot against her ear. “Such a fucking good girl.”

Her body shivers, and I can feel the tension radiating off her in waves. She’s struggling to keep it together, but I can see it in her eyes—the need, the desire. She wants me. She wants this.

“I saw you,” I whisper, my hand trailing down her neck, resting on the curve of her shoulder. “I saw the way you fucked yourself, the way you came so hard just thinking about me.”

Her eyes widen, her breath hitching as she realizes what I’m saying. She knows I’ve been watching her. And now, she knows just how much I’ve seen.

“But you didn’t know that, did you?” I murmur, my hand moving lower, brushing against the swell of her breast. “You didn’t know I’ve been watching you all along.”

Her body trembles under my touch, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. She’s teetering on the edge of something she doesn’t fully understand, but she’s drawn to it, to me, like a moth to a flame. Like she’s the sinner and I’m her salvation, not the other way around.

“Why come all over your own hand when you can come all over my face again?” My words leave her stunned, her eyes wide, mouth parted.

I pull back slightly, giving her space to breathe, to process, but I don’t let go of her. My hands remain on her body, holding her in place, grounding her in the moment.

“You want answers?” I ask, my voice low and dangerous. “I’ll give you answers. But only if you’re ready to hear them.”

Her eyes lock onto mine, and I can see the struggle in her expression—the war between what she wants and what sheknows she should do. She’s at a crossroads, and I’m the one guiding her down the path she’s too afraid to walk alone.

“Tell me, Lilith,” I whisper, my lips brushing against her ear. “Are you ready?”

I watch as her lips part, her breath shaky as she tries to form a response. She’s so close to giving in, so close to surrendering to me completely.

And when she finally nods, her eyes filled with uncertainty and need, I know she’s mine. Completely.

“You better be damn sure you’re ready, because once I give you the answers—and everything else you’re craving—you’ll be mine. And you’ll be crawling on your fucking knees, begging for more than just answers.”

Lilith

When I pull up to Sebastian’s house, my heart pounds in my chest, but I don’t hesitate. I don’t knock. Confidence—that’s the game I’m playing tonight. I’m not here for sweet words or gentle touches. No, I’m here to challenge him, to make him feel what he makes me feel.

I push the door open and step inside, my little black dress clinging to every curve, chosen specifically to entice him, to play the game he’s started. But the moment I walk in, I’m hit with the sight of him, and suddenly, my confidence falters.

He’s standing there, casual as ever, in a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt that clings to his muscled frame, the fabric stretching across his broad chest. His tattoos crawl up his arms, winding up his neck and down to his hands, each one marking him as dangerous as he is irresistible. The ink seeping out beneath the sleeves of his shirt, and the backwards hat he’s wearing makes my mouth go dry.

It’s the most simple, effortless look, but it has my body responding instantly. I can feel the heat pooling between my legs, and I silently curse myself for reacting this way. But god, he knows what he’s doing. Even just standing there, he’s in control, and I’m already struggling to keep up.

The air between us feels electric, charged with an intensity I’ve never experienced before. Sebastian’s words, the weight of his presence, the heat of his breath against my skin—everythingabout him makes my pulse race. My body feels like it’s on fire, my senses overwhelmed by his touch, his scent, his voice. It’s like he’s taken over every part of me, and I can’t tell where I end and he begins.

When he tells me I’m his, I don’t even hesitate. The truth is, I want to be. There’s something terrifying and exhilarating about giving myself over to him, about surrendering completely to the control he exerts over me. It’s not just the way he touches me—it’s the way he looks at me, like I’m the only thing in the world that matters. Like he would burn the whole world down if anyone tried to take me from him.

His fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear, lingering on my skin. His touch feels like fire, seeping into my bones, and when he speaks, his voice is dark, dangerous. “You’ve been fucking yourself, thinking about me. Crying out my name while you come, like I’m the only god you’ll ever know.” His lips curl into a dark smile, and he leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Such a fucking good girl.”

My body betrays me. I shiver, my breath catching in my throat. I can feel the tension winding tight in my chest, every nerve in my body alive with his presence. It’s like I’m trying to hold myself together, but the way he looks at me, the way he touches me, I know I’m already undone.

“I saw you,” he whispers, his hand trailing down my neck, resting on my shoulder like a weight I can’t shake. “I saw the way you fucked yourself, the way you came so hard just thinking about me.”

My breath hitches, my eyes widening as the meaning of his words sinks in. He’s been watching me. All this time, he’s seen everything. The shame and the heat flood me all at once, and I can’t move, can’t speak. I’m stuck between terror and want, because despite everything, I know I still want him.

“But you didn’t know that, did you?” His hand moves lower, brushing against my breast, teasing, and I feel like I’m burning under his touch. “You didn’t know I’ve been watching you all along.”

A tremble runs through me. His voice is a snare, pulling me deeper, and I don’t even want to fight it. I can’t. I’m drawn to him, drawn to this, even though I know I shouldn’t be. He’s everything I’ve feared and everything I’ve craved, all wrapped up in one dark, dangerous man.

“Why come all over your own hand when you can come all over my face again?” His words strike me, leaving me breathless, my body pulsing with need. The memory of him between my legs, his mouth on me, devouring me—it’s too much. My heart races, and my lips part, but no words come out.

He pulls back just enough to let me catch my breath, but his hands are still on me, still keeping me anchored to him. I’m stuck in this moment, trapped, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to leave, that wants to stay right here, with him.

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