Page 52 of Freckles

“Frost.” She puffs out an annoyed breath. “My car refused to start for so long, it’s lucky I got here at all.”

“I’ll have to book a mechanic, then. Don’t want to be cheated of my morning dose of freckles.”

“Is that why I’m here?”

“Well, I would’ve left you alone today, but noticed you couldn’t keep your eyes off me in class.”

The pink cheeks from earlier make a reappearance. There’s a flash in her eyes but she doesn’t correct my assessment, moving farther into the stacks.

It’s only second period, but she’s already messy, and I quickly adjust her collar, and reclip her fringe.

I love tidying the frazzled state she gets herself in without trying. Last night I woke from a dream where all I did was brush her hair.

“Why am I in the library? Did you need a tutoring session, after all?”

“I will if you keep distracting me in class. I had no idea what was happening in that last lesson.”

She rolls her eyes, wrinkling her nose in amusement. The jumpiness from this morning is gone and I wonder if it’s the setting that calms her fear. “Sure. I’m the reason you’re struggling in physics. Not the fact you never do your homework or pay attention.”

“Hm.” I pull out my phone.

“What is it?”

“Just checking because I don’t remember booking a roast.”

She snorts, then claps her hand over her face, glancing back to the librarian who hasn’t moved a muscle. On closer inspection, she has earbuds in, avoiding our attention the same way we’re trying to avoid hers.

“Hardly a roast. And what did you order? All I got was a place and a time.”

“If you like, I could sit down, and you could straddle me and let my fingers go exploring…”

I can’t work out her expression. Too many emotions are competing at once, as chaotic as her hair. I press my hands lightly on her shoulders, already stiffening, ready to have her mouth around me again.

“Or why don’t we try you on your knees?”

“Here? But anyone could come by!”

Despite her pink cheeks deepening to red, when I exert more pressure, she acquiesces, wrinkling her nose at the industrial grey carpet.

“Lay down your cardi if you want something cleaner.”

“And get it dirty instead? Good plan.”

I love the view of her staring up at me. Especially when her neat white teeth bite into her bottom lip, making her look nervous.

After a second without movement, I prompt, “Did you need a reminder of how this goes?”

She gives a sigh. “No. Just giving you the chance to take it back.” She undoes my fly and tugs down my underwear, wrapping her delicate fingers around me. The light touch is enough to set the blood pumping, getting me all the way hard.

Her body language is pure reluctance, but there’s a flicker of something hungry in her eyes. Enough to make me strain towards her, resting a hand on top of her head, precum beading on my tip.

“Nice hand job. Are you sure you don’t need a refresher course?” My fingers thrust into her hair, teasing apart the messy bun until there’s barely a semblance of its shape left. “Now how about you open that lovely big mouth of yours to protest, and I’ll get to work?”

She scowls, batting my hand away, then leans forward, taking the first tentative suck of my tip. The rough but slick surface of her tongue teases against my sensitive skin, a gush of saliva already leaking along my shaft, reaching her pumping hands.

The pleasure ripples along my length, meeting the ache of need from my balls. Her tongue spreads flat against me, and she takes me farther inside until I bump against the ridges of her hard palette.

Just the sight of her bright hair and delicate features makes my stomach pull tight. I bend away from her to get a better view, astonished how much the sight of her adds to the sensation. So much even her tentative movements feel skilled.

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