I could feel his eyes on me. Glancing over, again and again, thinking that I wouldn’t notice. Or, thinking that I would.
“Look, neither of us are getting any study done if you keep staring at me like that.”
He huffed, and lay his head down on the table, staring up at me. His eyes were clouded with exhaustion, but mischievous.
“I can feel the stress coming off you in waves. You need to let off some steam.”
“Uh, no shit, but the library isn’t the most relaxing space.”
He leaned back in his chair, and furtively looked around. He looked back at me and said lowly, “remember when we talked about our fantasies?”
My eyes widened, and I understood exactly what he meant. He motioned down under the desk with his head, and I slowly nodded. I turned my head and tried to act as nonchalant as I could, which is difficult when there is suddenly a head between your thighs.
I mean, yeah, everyone talks about having secret sex in the library, but I didn’t think anyone actually did it.
Thank fuck I wore a skirt, I thought, as his hands trailed feather-light patterns inside my thighs, shaking ever so slightly. I didn’t expect this exhibitionist side to him, but then again, I was surprised at my own eagerness. Warm fingers tugged at my underwear and I tried to shift my hips as subtly as I could. I heard – no, felt – him chuckle, his breath a quick puff on my already sensitive clit. I let him gently push my thighs wider apart, inviting him in further. Usually, I was the one to take charge, but he knew I loved this gentle, commanding side of his, giving me what I wanted, but at his own pace. His painstakingly slow, but tantalising pace.
“You know, if you want direction, apparently you’re supposed to trace the alphabet when you do this. That’s kind of studying. Language, I guess,” I teased.
“Haha, fuck off.”
“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be doing to me?”
His tongue answered my question, lightly swirling my clit, that tight bundle of nerves already betraying my response. I bit my lip, containing a moan. That excitement, tinged with the nervousness of being in public, seemed to be exactly my aphrodisiac.
I gripped my pen tightly, hoping to fuck that no one walked past. Or maybe I hoped someone would?