I stand in front of the huge bookshelf in the empty aisle of the library, staring at the books in utter confusion. The book I want is on the topmost row and I cannot reach it no matter how much I try, so I don't bother trying at all. Maybe I can make do with something in the lower rows.
I see a poster of our college basketball team hanging low on the wall and my mind immediately wanders back to the memory of the hot shower. Of the first time Gabriel made love to me. Or perhaps the term making love is a little too tame for what transpired that day. I still remember the jolt of his hips, the water trickling down onto his face, his muscular chest and down below onto his ...mmm
No, no I'm not going to go there. I have mid-terms next week and I'm not going to be distracted by Gabriel. I cross my legs, pretending that even the thought of him isn't affecting me in the slightest.
I squint my eyes to read the tiny text clearly when I feel a body press flush against my back.
On instinct, I freeze.
"Professor" I breathe out, realising its him even before I see or hear him. He stays silent for a while as my heart beat picks up where it left off.
"Yes" he says, his hot breath blowing against the skin of my neck that abruptly erupts into goose bumps.
My grip on the books in my hand tightens, and I have to remind myself not to fall.
"You wanted something?" he asks and it takes me a good minute to collect my scattered thoughts and point my finger towards the book I need.
He raises his hand taking the book I need, his body pressing harder into mine, letting me feel all of him. All of him. For a by passer this must look so innocent, someone just helping out a person who can't reach a book to save their life.
But there is nothing innocent or chaste about what he's doing. Or maybe it's just me?
Instead of handing me the book, he keeps the book in the air, I lift my hand up trying to reach it, but he pulls it out of my reach. After a few seconds of trying and giving up, I crane my neck to see him when he drops the book abruptly and holds my hand in his and places the palm against the shelf, making me immobile.
His other hand moves the hair away from my neck, his fingers dancing subtly. His lips touch the exact place his fingers explored a moment ago, and the books in my left hand fall onto the floor with a loud thud snapping me out of his trance.
"No, Gabriel ...This is a library, wait" I say moving, at least trying to, but I can't, trapped between his body and the shelf.
He laughs, a deep throaty, utterly masculine laugh against my neck.
"If you think that's going to stop me from getting what I want, you clearly don't know me very well."
His other hand moves to my midriff, his hand slipping into my shirt gently and smoothing over the skin. I shut my eyes tight, my other hand moving towards the shelf to support myself.
"Some... Someone might see us."
"There's no one here, and I won't let anyone see you" he kisses my neck again and I can't help the sound that escapes my mouth.
His hand leaves my stomach and tracing backwards and running over my hip and behind and resting on my legs.
"Do you know how absolutely delicious you look? It was torture looking at you all day and not being able to do this"
He squeezes my backside, and my lips part. He lifts my skirt up, bunching it around my hips and runs his hands all around leisurely.
I want to move or do something, but I can't.
This is strangely exciting. Anticipating his every move, imagining where his fingers might trace next.
Tugging slightly at my panties, I can feel them dissipate in his arms. His hands leave my skin for a few seconds before pulling me back a little and I'm not standing straight anymore, my face towards the shelf and my back at his beck and call.
He runs his adept fingers over every inch, almost worshipping it.
And smacks me, and every part of my insides clench with need.
"I want to fuck you into oblivion" he growls.
His voice says that he plans to do exactly that, not even a hint of a humour hidden.
His hand quickly moves from my back to my front, parting me slightly.
He groans drawing his fingers away.
