Page 15 of The Librarian of Souls
“Hang up,” I nip at her skin, tongue lashing against the spot I plan to mark her permanently. She squirms in my hold, rolling her hips into my palm, but continues talking.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know if she is speaking to me or the caller, but the air begins to shift, the scent of my mate losing any of the honey sweetness it once had and being tainted with worry. “I can be there in five minutes, no, no trouble-”
“Yes, trouble,” I growl, even as I am reigning myself in, hiding the nightmare back under my skin.
“Thank you, yes my code’s set up. Bye.”
I look at Joanna. The flush of her supple skin, the look of guilt that settles on her brow as I keep working my fingers in her slick cunt. She leans forward, her lips brushing against mine for a moment as if to say goodbye, but then without urgency, she kisses me again. Her tongue teases the seam of my lips only to pull back before she truly tastes herself on me.
“I’m sorry, it’s work. I can’t- It’s just- I’m sorry- This-”
Not a full thought comes past her lips as I continue to work my fingers. If she believes she is going to leave me now, she is wrong. We will not be separated again. I will drag her body from this library to my home by force if I must. I press my thumb just above her swollen clit and start to circle it.
“Joanna,” I say, speaking calmly, as if I do not feel whatever measly control I had over this illicit liaison slipping from my grasp. “Let me take care of you.Nothingis more important than right now, than you. Not while your greedy little pussy is making a mess over my leather chair and I still hunger for you.”
She whimpers, and for a moment, I think I have won. Her eyes flutter close and she licks her lip.That is it, I think. Give in to me, darling.
“I- Look, I just need to go across the street and make sure everything is fine.”
“What do you mean across the street?”
I do not stop moving my fingers. The sound of her pussy sucking me in deeper and deeper echoes around my quiet office. Just when I think she is going to cum again, forget her ridiculous job, Joanna grabs my wrist. Instantly, I stop, easing my fingers from her warmth.
“Fuck,” she groans. “I have to go.”
“I am going with you.”
Before she can say another broken thought or complete sentence, I lean back and pull her to her feet. There is a tilt in her aura, in the scent of her emotion, that tells me she is shocked but hopeful. As if I would let her out into the night alone again, when our bond is so close. I slide her trousers back on over her shoes and do the belt up in the worn-on-out hole before rising to my own feet. I grab my damp jacket and drag Joanna back out into the night, ready to be done with this errand so we may finish what we started.
7
Joanna
Iam going to die.
Slowly. Painfully. Emptily.
My brain is on fire, and my belly is twisting with a horrible, shameful lust I can’t stop. If it weren’t for that call, I would have let that librarian do anything he wanted to me. I can’t believe I did answer the phone. What in god’s name am I thinking? I don’t even know this librarian.
Augustine.
I know his name. I know his voice is firm, scholarly even when he tells me things I have only fantasised about. I know exactly what his moustache feels like against my clit.
He is strong, kind, and so fucking hot.
And into me.
If it weren’t for that call, I would have thought I had fallen asleep at my desk. Men like him don’t exist outside of dreamland. The well-tailored, commanding, and respectable man is not interested in the overworked office drone. They have chic significant others with skincare routines and regular sleep schedules. Augustine is the kind of man I dream about; he has been the man I dream about for months now, but I could have never dreamed of this.
I have had exes who won’t take me on dinner dates but will text me at midnight for a booty call. I have had exes tell me I am too distant. I have had exes tell me I am too clingy. I am not enough and still too much all at the same time so why even try to form romantic attachments? I have grown to find that even with the rare one-night stand, I could work up the energy to find lacklustre and more work than the physical touch is worth.
But Augustine’s grip on my hand, the way my cum slicks up my shredded panties, almost has me believing he wants more than tonight. His grip remains firm in my hand as we step out into the pouring rain. In the small space of his office, with his scorching body pressed between my thighs, I had forgotten I was soaked to the bone. Under the pelting rain, my hair plastered on my forehead once again, I am shivering and huddling closer. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his side. Just as the crosswalk signal starts to blare and traffic slows to a stop, he tilts my chin up and my heart stops. It’s hard to see, but my pulse races and heats all of me at once at the look in his eyes. They are dark, uncanny, even though it must be a trick of the light, and so very hungry.
At the same time I am rising up on my tiptoes, Augustine bends down enough to meet me in the middle. Every bit of fire and sweetness I felt in the library comes soaring back to life inside me. I can’t think of anything more right than kissing him in the rain. His lips are soft and supple and I can still taste the slightest bit of me on them. My head reels and my body melts, and I don’t want to ever leave this moment. Augustine pulls back slowly like he has to drag himself from my embrace.
“It is time to cross,” he whispers, and I have to blink to get some sense of reality back to me. Yes, crossing the road, doing my job, and handling the problem on-site. Not crossing the metaphorical line to having sex right here in the rain.
Well, once I am done handling this site situation, then I am going to beg the Adonis opening the door for me to take me home.
