Stacks and Secrets

Juliet Carrington was a woman in full control.

She ran the most prestigious private library in the city--an invite-only sanctuary for scholars, collectors, and dreamers. By day, she wore soft silk blouses tucked into high-waisted skirts, her rich brunette hair twisted into elegant buns, her red lips parted only when necessary. She walked with the kind of confidence that made people quiet. She had a perfect ass that swayed when she moved, high full breasts that strained the buttons of her blouses, and a voice like slow-poured honey. She didn't just command the room--she owned it.

But when the doors closed at dusk, Juliet became something else entirely.

She didn't need much. Just a good book, a glass of red, and the touch of the one man who saw through her perfect posture and knew exactly how to make her melt.

He waited for her in the upper reading loft, leaning against a ladder shelf. His sleeves were rolled up, his body relaxed but coiled--strong arms, thick thighs, and a cock she craved even when she pretended she didn't.

"Library's closed," she murmured, unpinning her hair. It tumbled in soft waves over her shoulders. "You shouldn't be here."

He smiled. "I'm not here for the books."

"No?" she said, walking closer. Her heels clicked over the wood floor. "Then you'd better show me your credentials."

He stepped forward, hands sliding around her waist. He pulled her flush against his chest--her full breasts pressing into him, her hips arching toward the bulge growing thick and heavy in his pants.

"You're not wearing panties, are you?" he whispered.

She tilted her chin up, unbothered. "Maybe I forgot."

His hand slid up her thigh, fingers confirming what he already suspected.

"Fuck," he breathed. "You're soaked."

And then he dropped to his knees.

Juliet gasped, hand bracing against the shelf as he lifted her skirt and buried his face between her thighs. His tongue found her instantly--slick, warm, skilled--sliding between her folds with slow, deliberate strokes. He moaned as he licked, gripping her hips, pulling her into his mouth like she was dessert he hadn't earned all day.

He circled her clit with his tongue. Then sucked it softly. Then again, harder.

Juliet's back arched. "Oh my God..."

Her body rocked against his face, hips trembling, thighs spreading wider as he devoured her. She came fast--shuddering, clenching, crying out as waves of pleasure surged through her. She grabbed his hair and held him there while she rode out every aftershock.

When he stood, his mouth glistened with her arousal. His eyes were dark, wild. His cock strained thick and hard against his belt--long, heavy, perfectly shaped for ruining her.

Juliet dropped to her knees with a smile that made him twitch.

She unbuckled him slowly, her fingers teasing, until his cock sprang free--thick, veiny, flushed and already leaking. Eight thick inches of need, pulsing with heat in her hand.

"God, you're beautiful," she whispered, wrapping her lips around the head.

Her mouth was hot and wet--her tongue swirling with practiced rhythm as she sucked him in inch by inch. He groaned, bracing against the shelf as she took him deeper... and deeper... until her nose touched his skin and her throat swallowed around him.

She sucked him slow at first--then faster. Sloppy. Greedy. Moaning around his cock as her spit dripped down her chin and onto her perfect cleavage.

"You're gonna make me cum," he warned.

She pulled off, eyes gleaming. "Not yet."

She stood, turned, and walked deeper into the shelves--then bent forward, lifting her skirt high over her hips.

He saw everything.

Her perfect ass. Her soft lower back. Her pussy still glistening from her climax. She looked over her shoulder, biting her lip.

"Fuck me," she whispered.

He stepped behind her and gripped her hips.

With one slow thrust, he buried himself inside--stretching her, filling her, making her gasp loud enough to echo through the stacks.

"You're so fucking tight," he growled.

Juliet moaned as he began to move--deep, rhythmic strokes that made her ass jiggle with every slap of skin on skin. She gripped the shelf, steadying herself, crying out as he fucked her harder. She could feel him hitting her perfectly, dragging against every spot that made her knees weak.

Books shook on their shelves. Somewhere, a lamp tipped over.

She didn't care.

"Harder," she begged. "God--yes--just like that--"

He slammed into her again and again, gripping her hair, fucking her like she was his and his alone.

Then he pulled out.

She whimpered at the loss--only for him to drag her back to the armchair, sit down, and nod to his cock.

"Ride me."

She climbed onto him reverse, her ass lowering onto his cock slowly--taking him back in inch by inch as they both groaned.

She began to bounce.

Her ass slapped against his thighs as she rode him, her fingers gripping the chair arms, her body trembling. Her pussy gripped him tight--so wet, so ready--and he watched every movement, transfixed by the way she worked him.

She came like that--screaming, grinding, pulsing around his cock as her orgasm ripped through her.

He wasn't far behind.

He stood, lifted her easily, and laid her face-down on the reading bed. She arched her ass up instinctively, and he slid back into her in the prone bone position--his weight pressing into her, his cock driving deep.

She moaned into the pillows, her body spent, overstimulated--but she still begged for more.

He gave it to her.

He fucked her hard. Steady. Balls slapping against her soaked folds until he finally burst inside her--grunting, pulsing, filling her with everything he had.

She cried out as the warmth spread through her.

And then they were still.

He collapsed beside her. Breathless. Spent. Grinning.

Juliet turned her head and smiled. Her cheeks were flushed. Her thighs slick. Her body thoroughly wrecked.

"You're not allowed in the library after hours," she said, panting.

He kissed her shoulder. "Then you'd better keep punishing me."

She rolled her eyes. "Trust me. I plan to."

And upstairs, between the books and the bed, Juliet Carrington had everything she needed.

Power. Pleasure. And a man who worshipped her body like it was the only text he'd ever read.