What am I doing?

Holy shit.

What am I doing?

Yesterday was one thing.

It was fun to think that someone looking up at my apartment would be able to see us. What we were doing. The way Conner was fucking me. Like he owned me. How out of control I was. How much I liked it.

It was fun because somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn’t real. The windows are covered with a Mylar tint, like a two-way mirror. No one could see us.

This is different.

This is a public place.

There is a very real possibility that someone will see us.

I want to spend the night.

Yes or no.

I push the thought out of my mind because I don’t want to think about it. How close I came to saying yes. How hurt he looked when I didn’t.

He doesn’t look hurt anymore.

In fact, he seems to have forgotten all about it. He looked up from his book (my book) and gave me that cocky grin of his, the one that stiffens the back of my neck, even as it weakens my knees. Makes me want to strangle him. Makes it hard to look at him and breathe at the same time.

It’s like it never happened.

Like I imagined the whole thing.

I’m here to see how quiet you can be while I make you come.

And then the elevator doors slide open and he breezes past me, my worn copy of Gatsby tucked into the back pocket of his battered jeans, without so much as a backward glance.

Like he didn’t care if I followed him.

Like it didn’t matter to him, either way.

I tell myself that I’m going back downstairs. That he’s crazy if he thinks I’m going to follow him. That I have too much to lose to play his games.

Then the doors start to close and somehow, I’m on the other side of them, following him.

He seems to know exactly where he’s going, weaving himself deeper and deeper into the stacks. Turning corners and slipping between shelves, so fast and sure, I lose sight of him. It makes me wonder how many times he’s done this. Led girls through the stacks so he can—

Strong, callused fingers close over my wrist, jerking me out of the aisle and into a dark, narrow space between the stacks. He pulls me deeper into the dark, turning me to push me against one of the shelves.

“I don’t think this is—”

“Don’t worry, Daisy. I work fast.” He breathes it into my ear, his hands closing over the lapels of my jacket to jerk it off my shoulders. His fingers fly down the delicate row of buttons holding my shirt closed, quick and sure. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Jerking my shirt from the waistband of my skirt, he turns me again. The smell of old books fills my nose. The musty scent of timeworn paper pressed against my cheek. “Con—”

“Shhh…” He’s behind me, the length of him hot and rigid against the curve of my ass. His lips press against a spot behind my ear before he whispers in it. “People are trying to study.”

He’s right. We passed a few people hunkered down at study tables, heads buried in stacks of books, so engrossed that they didn’t even look up when we passed them.

Instead of speaking, I nod.

His mouth slips along the curve of my throat to the nape of my neck. I can feel his breath, hot and uneven against it, teeth scraping against the hard knot at the top of my spine. His hands fisted in my skirt, pulling it up so slowly I start to shake until it’s finally bunched around my hips.

A hand slips around, fingers between my thighs, silently urging me to open them. I widen my stance, nearly groaning with relief when I feel his hand cup itself around me, the length of his callused middle finger pressed against the wet lace covering my throbbing pussy. “I bet you’ve been wet since the second you watched me walk through the door.” He breathes it in my ear, barely even a whisper.

His other hand drifts upward, fingers skimming along the lace cup of my bra. Finding my nipple, he rolls it, plucking and squeezing until it’s hard and swollen between his fingers.

He taps his finger against my slit, each rhythmic tap sending shockwaves through me, vibrating against my core, until I’m clenching my teeth, forehead pressed into the back of the bookshelf to keep myself from crying out.

Like he knows how close I am, he releases me, both hands moving lower. Rough, blunt-tipped fingers curl around the waistband of my underwear, peeling delicate lace off my hips and down my legs until they fall to the floor completely.

I don’t even think about it. Don’t hesitate. I step out of my panties and plant my feet further apart, giving him room to do what he wants to me.

He sinks to his knees behind me, his palms smoothing over the curve of my ass. Fingers digging in, he pulls me closer. Thumbs slide lower, between my thighs, skimming the seam of me before gripping me, opening me from behind. He says something, too quiet for me to hear but I feel the breath of it, soft and warm against the heat of me. I feel it because his lips brush against mine with every word.

Ohmygod.

That’s the last coherent thought I have, right before he leans in to run his tongue up the center of me before flicking the tip of it against my clit.

I moan, the sound of it trapped in my throat, eyes squeezed shut, hips tilting shamelessly against the pressure of his mouth. Pushing myself against his face. Asking for more.

He makes another sound and this time I hear it, a growl, low and tight in his throat, shaped around a word.

Henley.

Fingers gripping even tighter, he pulls me closer. Buries his face in my pussy, teeth nipping and grazing over tender flesh. Lips and tongue, licking and sucking every inch of me he can reach, until he’s angling himself between my legs, my thighs quaking against his shoulders and I’m reaching between my legs to thread my fingers through his hair, holding on for dear life while he fucks me with his mouth. His tongue pushing into me, stroking and licking my clit.

I can feel his fingers, skimming over the curve of my ass, the tips of them tracing gently over its cleft, brushing against the tight hole at its center. I gasp, can’t help it, when I feel him push against it, the slightest of pressures, stroking me there while his lips close over my clit, sucking it hard and fast.

There is no gentle build. No warm spread of heat along the length of my spine. No tightening pressure in the pit of my belly.

There’s only Conner.

And then I’m coming, so hard and fast I can’t stop the scream that barrels its why up my throat. Before I can give it a voice, her reaches up and covers my open mouth with his hand. Surprised, I bite down, sinking my teeth into the side of his hand. He groans against me when my teeth make contact, but he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t move his hand away. He pushes it tighter against my mouth, while he keeps eating me, licking sucking my tender flesh until my fingers in his hair gripping so tight they start to cramp. My legs give out completely but he’s there, his arms hooked under me, holding me against him, my pussy quivering against his tongue and mouth while he keeps fucking me through my orgasm.

Before I barely have time to recover, he’s standing, hands gripped around my shoulders, turning me until my back is against the bookcase, he leans into me and I think he’s going to kiss me. The thought of tasting myself on his mouth is almost more than I can bare.

But he doesn’t kiss me.

His lips graze past my cheek, finding my ear so he can whisper into it while he pulls my skirt down over my hips. “Pleasure doin’ business with you, Daisy.”

And then he’s gone.