He watched her as she read the book in hand. Her hair was pulled back in a twist, her glasses perched low on her nose. She was wearing a short full black skirt, her bare legs in a pair of red heels. Her blouse was also red, buttoned down the front, the buttons strained against her full breasts. She reached up to reshelve the book, her skirt rose, revealing her creamy white thigh. He circled the shelves, coming up behind her. His arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her back against him, his teeth finding her ear, biting tenderly. He took the new book from her, returning it to its place on the shelf. His hands began opening the buttons of her blouse. He then cupped each breast, pulling each out of the bra cup that hid it. His hands moved up her outer thighs, then along her bottom, no panties.
She heard that satisfied laugh, she longed to hear, daily. It warmed her, made her knees weak.
He took her hand, and walked toward the table at the end of the isle of shelves. He stopped at the table's edge and turned her to face him, taking her wrists in his hand, held tightly behind her back. He cupped one breast, and pushed it up enough to grasp her nipple between his teeth, he bit, he pulled. Looking at her as he did, daring her to call out, and draw attention to them. She did not close her eyes, did not make a sound, but he could see her desire grow.
His eyes conveyed every instruction, when he released her arms, she pushed herself onto the table, and laid back.
