Page 100 of Demise

“Of course, Mr. Putnam. Nice to see you.”

I nod, but don’t say anything as Skyla looks at me. There are a few people in the library, though a majority of them bolt as soon as they see us. It’s a shame my family has such a negative reputation in town, but it does help when one is looking for privacy.

Guiding Skyla through the stacks, I come to the town records, letting her take over from there. Her eyes scan over book after book as she begins pulling them. Wesley steps up, taking them from her as she stacks them higher and higher until he canhardly see. Then we move to historical fiction, where she grabs a copy ofThe Crucible.

Honestly, I can’t believe that the library has that in here. It’s basically viewed as propaganda. It paints the Salem townsfolk in a terrible light, and there is little accuracy to any of it. At least going off Thomas Putnam’s journal and the teachings of the Brethren.

We find a table to sit down at, and Skyla dives in, cracking open book after book. Her finger moves along the pages, digesting every morsel of information she possibly can. Wesley and I watch her patiently, both of us clearly on edge, but ready to do whatever it takes to make her feel a little more at ease. At least an hour goes by before she finally looks up.

“Did you know it wasn’t just women that were accused of witchcraft? Some men were as well,” Skyla says as she looks up from the book she is currently reading.

I nod. “From Thomas’s point of view, some husbands were forced into witchcraft by their wives. Regardless, he felt they were a threat.”

“Clearly, he believed everyone, young or old, was a threat,” she says bitterly. “You can’t tell me either of you believe in all this, though, right? I mean, from my perspective, it sounds like it was a couple of young girls who were bored and ended up crying ‘witch’ for attention. I mean, did they accuse Tituba of witchcraft because she was actually a witch, or just because she came from a different culture?” she scoffs.

I stay silent as Wesley speaks.

“History is always a shade of grey, right? All we have to go off is snippets of the past. Unless we were there, we will never fully know what happened.”

Skyla frowns at that.

“I guess, but believing in witches the way the Brethren clearly do? Like spells and flying on brooms and bleeding black.” She shakes her head. “Doesn’t it seem a little farfetched to you?”

I nod. “You’re not wrong. Like Wes said, I think the past is open to interpretation. We have to do our best to collect the information and make our best educated guess.”

Skyla looks between us for a moment or two and nods.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I got so obsessed all of a sudden. I guess Hutchinson put me on edge last night. I hate that I don’t know what happened to my mother, how she spent her last moments. When he offered up a small amount of information about her, good or bad, I just wanted to know more.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have more comfort to give you,” I say.

She smiles sadly and shrugs as she begins gathering up her books. Wesley and I grab the rest, and we begin putting them away together. Her arm stretches up, attempting to put the book in place, when Wesley grabs it from her, sliding it into place.

“Thanks,” she smiles as she turns to face him.

He slowly backs her up against the bookcase, a smirk on his face as his finger comes underneath her chin.

“No problem.”

Wesley pauses for a moment, looking both ways before leaning down, pressing his lips to hers. She makes a soft sound of surprise but easily sinks into the touch. Her arms wrap around his neck as their kiss turns more heated.

Today, Skyla is wearing a plaid skirt with dark tights and a white sweater. Or at least she was. Wesley’s hands move down her body, going between her thighs, when a sharp rip sounds out inside the quiet library. I whip my head around, making sure the librarian hasn’t come back yet. I know I saw a few college students a couple sections over. They could come this way any second, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping them.

In the time that it took me to turn around and scope out our surroundings, Wesley had ripped a hole in Skyla’s tights and shoved his cock into her pussy. He has her right leg lifted, hiked up to allow better access as he begins fucking her against the bookshelf. A few books fall from the force of his thrusts, but that doesn’t stop him.

Her mouth drops open, her head falling to the side as she looks at me. Those eyes practically beckon me, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m coming to her. My hand comes to the side of her cheek, keeping her head turned as I crush my mouth to hers. She hums her satisfaction against my mouth, my tongue stroking against hers before I whisper against her lips.

“Such a bad girl letting Wesley fuck you in public like this,” I tsk.

“She’s a good little slut, aren’t you, little one?” Wesley says with a cocky whisper.

Skyla nods, her face turning to look up at the ceiling as I look at Wesley and shake my head.

“This isn’t smart,” I tell him softly.

“No,” he agrees. “But it’s fun.”

Wesley’s free hand reaches out for me, palming my already hard cock through my jeans. I choke back the moan that begs to run through me at the feeling, but he seems hell bent on getting more of a rise out of me. His hand runs up and down against me, forcing my cock to strain uncomfortably against my pants.

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