Page 51 of The Librarian of Souls
“Yes, fuck, Augustine.” Her mouth stays open, her tongue wetting her lips again and sweat beads along her hairline. “Touch your cock, please.”
I do not stop what I am doing.
“It is not a command if you are begging me, mon abeille.”
“You-” Her voice drops into a whimper as the sands around her nipples tighten and pluck at her delicate flesh. “Fuck, stroke your cock. Now.”
My hand grips my cock and pulls my quills forward in firm tugs. Sweet, heated pleasure drips down my spine from the base of my skull as Joanna’s emotions merge with my own desires. My sands do not stop teasing her breasts, but she is too focused on my cock to complain. She tries to lean forward again, but my sands keep her collared.
I am going to cum, my body folding over hers to grip the edge of the bath once again. Water splashes, and my balls draw in closer to my body the harder I stare at her mouth. Her flat teeth dig into her bottom lip and I taste that zesty tang of her amusement.
“Mon abeille,” I moan, gripping hard at the base of my cock, trying to gather an ounce of control. “Have I earned your favour?”
“Not yet,” she breathes, her eyes meeting mine quickly. “Do you promise to make me cum?”
There is a hitch in her breath when she asks me. The sands around her nipples flick the sore, beaded flesh to the same furious rhythm I stroke my cock to.
“I will do more, so much more.” My thoughts scramble as my slick hand moves over my flesh. “Every day, any time you will allow it, I am going to devour your perfect cunt until all you feel is bliss.”
“English, Augustine,” she commands.
Had I spoken in another language? It does not matter. I repeat the words, adding further promises until I am on the verge of breaking the bathtub under my grip.
“In my mouth,” she murmurs softly, in that reverent, wanting tone of hers that has all of me shuddering and ready to destroy the world for her pleasure. My sands slip just enough, and my body climbs higher up until my cock nearly touches her lips. I know if I were to, I would cum before I garner her permission. “Well done. You have my favour.”
My body seizes, and every part of me threatens to collapse as I watch the ropes of my cum coat Joanna’s tongue and mouth, how her throat contracts as she swallows, her pupils still dilated and her hunger scenting the air. Before she can say another word, I gather her in my arms and move us to the bedroom.
“Augustine,” her squeal of delight is like a chorus of angels.
“I do believe I have a promise to keep,mon abeille.”
19
Joanna
Ikeep getting flashes of Augustine covered in so much blood it should have been impossible. He reassured me again before I fell asleep it was nothing, something Kragnash needed his hand with after group. Still not something you just spring on a person when she is trying to take a depression bath if you ask me.
Even now, stirring creamer into my coffee, I can only picture the blood swirling down his shower drain. There was just so much of it. What the fuck was Kragnash doing? Was the mayor doing some kinda shady shit that should make me question my vote? Should I be concerned for Augustine’s safety? No, Kragnash is his friend. I know that, and I want to believe that even if they aren’t human, these new people are still good. I don’t want these new people to be just as bad as those already in my life.
But what the shit was with the blood?
“Joanna!” Patrick barks my name from across the room, and I jump. “My office.”
I swallow the sudden lump in my throat, putting my teaspoon in the sink. I pick up my notebook and pen and the stack of files I might need from the desk maintenance dragged up yesterday morning. The moment Patrick returned from his midlife crisis adventure, he took over my office and now I sit in the far corner behind a pillar near the kitchenette. There’s no window, and the light isn’t great in this corner, but at least I’m not constantly being bothered, right? Nobody stops by my desk now to ask for a favour or if I want to go for a coffee downstairs. No more distractions, so I can be more streamlined.
Around the office, everyone has their heads down. There is some chatter, and the sales team is never truly quiet, but there is definitely a sense of dread going around this place. Everyone seems to believe they are moments away from getting fired. Except for Lance, he is cool as a cucumber; we all really need that right now. Andrea makes eye contact with me as I pass her desk, and there is nothing but sympathy written on her face. She told me yesterday she is looking for a new job and I wished her luck because what else am I supposed to do?
I don’t know what I will do after this project in the next month for the rest of eternity, but I am not going to discourage others from chasing greener pastures. It’s been two weeks of hell and upheaval that doesn’t appear to have an end.
Inside my old office, Patrick has cleared away all my minimal personal touches. The plant that I was trying to keep alive by the window is no longer there and a box of files is sitting on the floor next to the desk that I am sure I will need to organise. He sits at what used to be my overflowing desk, and now there is only a laptop and an empty coffee mug.
“Shut the door,” he says before I can even get a word in.
“Hey Patrick, what can I do for you?” I ask, doing as he requested.
I don’t sit down immediately, half expecting him to tell me he wants another coffee, but when he looks at the rickety chair I have never trusted, I settle on the edge of it. The hard wooden arms dig into my wide hips and snag on my dress.
For a moment, he doesn’t take his eyes off me. Patrick stares right through me, or too deeply at me, like he is judging my faded wrap dress and my soul at the same time.
