UsaMamo Week 2022 | Book by Lillie Bell
The Crystal Tokyo library was expansive, with multiple floors of wooden shelves that sparkled with the refraction of the crystalline walls and marble floors. Tall columns announced the start of each wing focused on thousands of years of accumulated knowledge and stories, history and theater. The middle floors were open to the public, with nooks and reading spaces, an art and adventure zone for the children, and a maker's space for the older teens throughout its ten floors.
The sublevel floors were for researching and refinishing old books, collection storage and preservation. It was wall-to-wall drawers and formaldehyde and white gloves and uniforms.
The top floors required access. Some simple measures like registering with the library so they could measure use of the machines that held old magazine and newspaper clippings. Some were much more secure, where only select people were allowed.
Serenity sighed from the table in the middle of one such wing. Endymion had promised he only needed one more book to cross-reference some law with some proceeding and… honestly, she'd stopped listening when it was clear his after-dinner plans did not include watching TV, reading a gossip column, or licking parfait off of her body.
She'd followed him, thinking he was going to tuck the book away and pour through it later. The minute he pulled his glasses from his pocket and situated them on his nose, she knew she had grossly miscalculated.
He'd settled into the table and she'd waited across from him as the clock chimed every half hour. She waved at the patrons and librarians as they left, more and more each half hour until the only sound was Endymion's tongue clicking as he read a particular line or the scrape of the page as it turned.
The lights dimmed as the hour grew later. Time suspended and unmoving until the clock announced another thirty minutes had disappeared.
Serenity huffed, leaning her chin into her hand. The grandeur of the library ignored for the man she wished would just look at her.
His forehead crinkled in a way she knew he'd hit a snag in his reading. The book had either not answered his question or raised more, but it wasn't enough. The why didn't really matter. What mattered was the opportunity.
She tugged her dress low, feeling the cool evening air against her breasts. She lifted the spine of his book, reading the author and volume number.
"Looks like you need another volume," she said quietly. His gaze followed the long line of her neck, the creamy dip of her collarbone, to rest on the dangling breasts about to fall out of her dress. She leaned forward, his blue turning dark as the shadows wrapped around her curves.
"It was in the deeper stacks, right?" Her voice was light, her face painted in school girl innocence as her canine dented the pad of her thumb. His mouth fell open, but he didn't answer.
"Since no one is here, and I'd hate for you to be interrupted, I'll go find it for you."
Her hand touched the bookcases as she angled at him. "If I'm not back in ten minutes, come find me."
She didn't wait for him to answer.
She kept her feet loud as she stepped through the row of books, moving through lanes and rows to the stacks along the wall. The heels clapped against the marble floors. Her nails dragged along the canvas books in each row. An audible trail of breadcrumbs for Hansel to follow.
It was darker and quieter. With each loud step, arousal shot through her. She knew him well enough, knew the buttons to press, to know he was out there stalking her. Was he behind her? Beside her? Did he jump the two story cases to get an extra view of her cleavage before pouncing on her?
Would she hear him or see him first? If he was looking to intersect her path, perhaps his cologne would give him away.
She missed the step down, and her feet clattered for purchase. She listened and sniffed for a moment, but there was nothing but silence and musk.
The anticipation was exciting. Her body burned hot as she followed the spines to a line of old blue books on an upper shelf. One leaned into another in the space left by a removed book. She reached into the space, pressing her fingers into the wood as she wished he would touch her.
Hard warmth covered her from head to toe. His muscled body pressed her into the collection, the shelves biting deliciously across her chest and hips and thighs. His cock dipped between her cheeks like a bookmark between pages. Marking his spot.
His hot breath fanned over her neck. His arms and hands on the ledge, holding hers above her head.
"Ohhh, myyyy," she drawled, voice sugary sweet the way she knew would tie him in knots. "It hasn't even been ten minutes."
She batted her eyelashes. "Did you miss me?"
His hand dropped to cup her sex and rear her back into his cock. She groaned at his rough handling, her clit pulsing to be next.
He pushed her into the shelves.
"I'm supposed to be preparing for a meeting early tomorrow morning," he growled. He nipped at her earlobe and she shivered. "A meeting so early, my queen refused to join."
She shoved her ass against him, rubbing up and down the length of his cock.
"I'm sure the queen just needs her beauty sleep." She swallowed a moan as he grabbed a handful of breast. The soft material rubbed against her peaking nipples and her thighs grew wet.
He lifted her skirts and moaned when he found her naked ass cheeks to greet him.
"She's already beautiful." His breaths came in gulps. The clank of his belt and the slide of his zipper made her shudder. She opened her legs as he slid behind her again. The naked length of him was hot against her cheek.
He pulled the glove from his hand with his teeth, and she groaned. His hand slipped beneath the front layers of her skirts, caressing across her hip and mons before sliding through her wet lips. A few loops coated the digits, and he swirled around her clit in a sequence he knew would build her quickly.
She ground into his hand, well aware of the throbbing thickness she wanted filling her up inside. She mewled, her hips pushing against the stacks as he built up her orgasm.
Her mind had lost all comprehension, and she was living for each stroke and swirl and dip. She was bending just slightly, arching against his nimble fingers, when he reached beneath them and, moving along his drenched fingers like a track, buried himself to the hilt.
She cried at the sudden spreading of her walls. Her cunt was tight around his girth. Wonderfully stretched until he dragged himself out, only to slam into her again. His arm threaded beneath her head to pad the harsh edge of the bookshelf, his other hand returned to her clit as he pounded her into the stack.
Her pleasure grew as he filled and emptied her cunt, swirled and pinched her clit. Book pages shook as their breaths panted against the spines.
He surged behind her, pulling her legs from the ground. Her release toppled with her, and he groaned out as her walls shivered around him. Their pulsing grip swept him over his edge. He collapsed against her as they heaved from exertion.
"For what it's worth," he was saying once they could move, and he had adjusted her clothing into a pristine state, (maybe lightly whacked her naked bottom and muttered "not fair",) healed a few bruises left by the shelves, and then worked on getting his clothes in order, "you're always beautiful to me. No extra sleep required."
"But I can sleep in wherever I want," she said, adopting the voice she used for decrees or public speeches.
He bowed, kissing her hand. "Of course, my queen." His gaze was predatory as he looked up from her hand. "As long as I can fuck you into these stacks again."
He must have caught her shudder because he was on his knees lifting her dress before she realized what all the white fabric in her vision was. But she definitely, definitely felt the texture of his tongue as he dragged it up her lips.