Page 63 of He Sees You
"The library," she breathes against my mouth. "I want you in the library, surrounded by all these stories about death and love and the thin line between them."
I lift her onto the desk, files scattering to the floor.
Evidence of her father's failures carpeting the ground beneath us.
Fitting that we'll consummate this while standing on the ruins of her old life.
"Are you sure?" I ask one last time, my hands framing her face.
"I've never been more sure of anything." She pulls me down for another kiss. "Make me yours in every way."
My fingers tangle in her dark brown hair, the subtle burgundy strands catching the dim library light as I yank her head back, exposing the pale column of her throat.
She gasps, her pale green eyes—almost golden in the low glow—locking onto my pale grey ones with raw hunger.
At 5'5", she fits perfectly against my 6'4" frame, her slim body arching into my muscular chest as I press between her thighs.
I bite down on her neck, hard enough to mark, sucking until a bruise blooms under her skin.
Her hands claw at my black sweater, pulling it up to rake nails over the ridges of my abs, tracing the scars from years of survival.
"Cain," she moans, voice thick with need.
I rip her leather jacket open, buttons popping free, and shove it off her shoulders.
Underneath, her black blouse clings to her average curves, nipples already hard peaks against the fabric.
I tear the blouse apart, exposing her pale breasts, full lips parting in a sharp inhale.
My mouth descends, latching onto one nipple, teeth grazing as I suck hard, tongue flicking the sensitive bud.
She bucks against me, her Doc Martens scraping the desk edge.
"More," she demands, fingers fumbling with my belt.
I let her, watching her expressive hands—those that gesture wildly when she talks—tremble as she frees my cock.
It springs out, thick and hard, veins pulsing.
Her pale green eyes, nearly black from arousal, widen before she wraps her hand around the base, stroking firmly, thumb circling the head slick with pre-cum.
I growl, shoving her jeans down her thighs, bunching the fabric at her ankles.
No panties—bold choice.
Her pussy is bare, lips swollen and wet, clit peeking out.
I slide two scarred fingers along her slit, coating them in her juices before plunging inside.
She cries out, walls clenching tight around the intrusion, hot and slick.
I pump them deep, curling to hit that spot that makes her thighs quake, my thumb grinding her clit.
"Fuck, you're soaked," I rasp, free hand pinning her wrist above her head.
Her tiny scar through her eyebrow furrows as she bites her full lower lip, concentrating on the building pressure.
"For you," she pants, releasing my cock to grip the desk edge. "Always for you."
