Sex in the Stacks Read Free

before Melanie could ride the fantastic wave of pressure he’d created and find release.
    She wanted him back, right where he had been, filling her, distracting her. Melanie squeezed her eyes shut and willed Violet to disappear, willed Simon to return, willed the flow of pleasure to continue uninterrupted.  
    “Oh fine,” her twin huffed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    She heard the tear of a wrapper, and then Simon stood behind her. He spread her legs and positioned himself at her opening, her bound hands caught between them. He smoothed his hands over her belly and hips, over the cotton of her shirt and the pleats of her skirt. Then he fisted the wool of her skirt in his hands and gathered it until the garment bunched at her waist.
    He dipped his hand between her legs. He pinched and rubbed, and she lifted on her toes and arched her back, riding the intense wave of ecstasy into a realm of pure sensation, of wicked touches and wild need.
    He slipped inside her a mere fraction, and she rocked her hips, wanting more, needing more. He held her in place with the tight squeeze of his hands on her hips. “Not yet,” he said. “You have to beg first.”
    In his hold, she couldn’t move the way she wanted. She had no leverage to take or give. He controlled her completely. “Please,” she moaned.
    He gave her exactly what she wanted. He held nothing back. They graduated from heat and passion to all-out frenzy. The shelf in front of her rattled. His breath came faster and faster. His arms tightened on her.
    “Josie,” he groaned.
    She inhaled sharply at the acute pain of this newest betrayal. Dust from the old books filled her nose.  
    Josie? He was calling her Josie? Her friend’s name crashed over her nerves like a bucket of ice water. Simon had tied her, touched her, but he wanted her friend. He wanted Josie, not her. He had made her beg for the favors he wanted to give another woman.
    “ Achoo, achoo, achoo .” The sneezes erupted in loud succession, a blaring announcement to anyone in proximity that she was here in the shadowy dark of the stacks.
    Her nose dripped. With her hands caught firmly behind her back, she couldn’t wipe away the snot. She tried to sniff it back but only sneezed again. Her eyes watered—from the dust she would say if Simon asked.
    He didn’t ask. Aside from a brusque, “bless you,” he seemed oblivious to her drippy distress. He twisted and undulated inside her. Undoubtedly, such moves had turned plenty of women before her into begging pleasure-seekers. Maybe none of them had cared if his thoughts focused on someone else, so long as he tended to them.
    Melanie cared. She sniffled some more and fought to hold back the rising tide of tears. “Simon, I need…”
    “Yes, that’s right,” he said gruffly. “Tell me what you need.” His fingers pinched her through her blouse, and she involuntary gasped again, inhaling another dose of dust.  
    “I need…”
    “Beg me for it,” he said as she sneezed again. “Tell me how much you want me to give it to you.”
    Their game had lost its delight. She only wanted to wipe her nose, reclaim her dignity, and pretend none of this had ever happened.
    “I need a tissue!”
    “What?” He pulled away from her.
    “A tissue. I need a tissue,” she said.  
    He spun her around. She sneezed again and spewed droplets in his direction.
    “Oh.” He rubbed his hand over his face and shook the lingering wetness from his fingers. Obviously, this wasn’t the kind of request he had anticipated.
    “I’m allergic to dust,” she said. And you called me Josie. Tears leaked down her cheeks. “You need to untie me.”
    He frowned as if debating how to handle this unexpected mess.
    At that moment, she heard the faint wheeze of the elevator doors opening. “You really think we’ll find them down here together?” a woman said. Melanie couldn’t place the woman’s voice, but it sounded familiar.
    “Please, Simon. Someone’s coming,”