Wicked Wednesday: Books

It’s mid afternoon, and the sun is shining through the tall, clear windows in the library. The traffic outside is muted, and only a low buzz permeates the air. I wander around the stacks surrounding the reading area on the first floor, my fingers brushing the spines of the hardback books as I walk, and I glance at the titles: Out of Phaze, I Robot, Hyperion, Ringworld.

I look over and see you sitting in an overstuffed brown chair, your hair hanging into your eyes as you scan the pages. I wonder what you’re reading, and as your finger traces the words down the page, I imagine you running it down my skin instead.  You reach the end of the page and lick the tip of your finger, and i imagine my nipple in its place.

As you turn the page you look up, and I meet your brown eyes. I feel myself blushing, and the heat from your glance is making me wet. You close the book, and I drop my eyes from yours, noticing that you’ve been reading Dune, one of my favorite books. I turn, a bit embarrassed, and walk briskly to the stairs. As I start to ascend I can’t help myself: I look back and see that you’ve risen, the book on the chair’s warm seat, and your eyes have been following me. A line runs through my head from Dune: “Fear is the mind-killer…I will face my fear.” My heart skips a beat, and I smile, knowing you’ll follow me.

I climb to the second floor and then the third. The light is lower here, but still streaming through the high windows; particles of dust dance in the air, and no one is about.  I head into the stacks, and the sunlight disappears, replaced by the low light from the overhead bulbs. When I’ve gone deep into the room, surrounded by books, I pretend to look at what’s on the shelves, as if I’m looking for something to read. My eyes dart past the Shining, Phantoms, Carrion Comfort, Ghost Story. I’m afraid that you’ve followed me, but more afraid that you haven’t, and I’ve misread your desire.

I jump slightly as I feel your warm breath on my neck, and I moan as your lips brush against my skin. Your arms encircle me, hugging me close. I lean back into you, and as your right hand cups my breast, your left slides down the front of my thin blue cotton dress, pulling the fabric up until you can push my panties aside. I can feel my wetness grow as your finger finds my clit, moving smoothly over its nub as I moan quietly.  My hand reaches back, touching the bulge of your cock through your jeans.

You release me, and I start to turn around, but your hands stop me and I comply. I bend over, and your hands push my dress up around my hips, squeezing my ass. Your touch leaves me, and I hear you undo the button on your jeans, the zipper as it goes down. Your cock presses against me, hard, and I spread my legs as you pull my thong aside. I gasp as you enter me, bracing myself on the shelves as you thrust deep inside me. I open myself, drawing you deeper, and you take me against the stacks, amidst Deaver, Reichs, and Sheldon.

I thrust against you, and my hands sweep Straub, Barker, and Lovecraft from the shelves, their pages fluttering like my heart as they tumble to the ground. Your hands leave my hips and support my stomach as you lower me to the floor, and I turn over, my back pressed against the pages and covers of the books as you enter me again, your hands on my shoulders as our eyes lock.

Your kiss sets me afire, and our tongues intertwine like our bodies, questing and probing. I take you deep inside and wrap my legs around you, holding you as close as I can. Your lips move from mine, and as they nibble on my earlobe your breath is hot in my ear. I can feel my orgasm coming, and I gasp as you thrust harder, my hips rising to meet you as your hand covers my mouth. I scream into your palm; I feel you cum inside me, with me.

Afterwards we lie for a moment in each other’s arms, and I do not want to move. We are surrounded by Cooper and Howard, Gardner and Stout, and I feel their tacit approval.  You release me and caress my face before you rise, and I stand also, straightening my underwear and pulling down my dress. I can feel your cum seeping onto my panties, mingling with my wetness. Together we pick up the books from the floor, shelving them quickly to hide our encounter.
A brief kiss and then you are gone, heading to the stairs past Shakespeare, Green, and Lewis. I watch you, smiling, knowing we will meet again in the library, amongst Robert and Day.

You are my literary love.

 

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