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He keeps staring at me, so I just shake my head. “No, but you can just—”
Suddenly my feet are leaving the floor. “Ah!”
Roman picks me up with seemingly no difficulty, and spins us around. I barely have a second to panic about him thinking I’m too heavy, or about how I’ve gained weight this year, feel self conscious before he’s depositing me on one of the huge arm chairs.
“That wasn’t very quiet, Juliette.”
I stare at him, a little disheveled, and feeling shocked by our sudden switch in positions. “But—”
Standing in front of me, while I’m seated, I’m painfully aware that I’m face level with his cock which is still clearly visible through his pants. It’s a herculean task to look up as he speaks. “What if that sullen librarian heard you scream and comes running up here?”
“Well, at this point there’s not much for her to see.” I sound more than a little petulant and I don’t care.
“Isn’t there?”
He smirks, an almost feline smile, and sinks to his knees before me. We’re nearly eye to eye as he wraps his hands around my upper calves just below my knees and tugs me forward until I’m sitting just at the edge of the chair, my skirt bunching around my waist. “I want to hear you when you come for me, but I don’t want the whole library to hear you. Can you do that?”
Oh my gods.I nod again, my entire body already tense and somehow responsive and malleable at the same time.
“Tell me,” he says.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I can do that.”
His smile is oddly triumphant. “Good. I have a theory, and I never thought I’d get such a perfect opportunity to test it.”
I don’t know what that means and I don’t care. All I care about is that he stops stalling and gets on with it, because the anticipation is going to kill me.
“Next time,” he says, running both hands up my thighs, to my stomach, where he finds the top of my tights. “Don’t wear these.”
I lift my hips, to help as he rolls them down, stopping when they’re banded around my ankles. “No promises.”
“Next time, I’ll tear them in half.”
I feel a little jolt of excitement every time he says “next time,” but I’m afraid to point it out. Afraid to ask what it means.
I want to keep arguing back, but then, all other thoughts flee because Roman’s hands are on me again, and this time there’s barely anything left separating us. He loops his fingers in the elastic of my panties and begins to ease them down and over my ass. The air hits me and I shutter in a breath. Then, finally, he tugs me as far as I can be to the edge of the chair, until I’m about to fall off the edge, and supported only by his shoulders holding my knees apart, my bound feet in his lap.
“Fuck,” he says under his breath.
I think he’s going to elaborate. Maybe give me some other sexy command, or say something quippy. One thing I’ve never been able to ever find fault with about Roman is his eloquence. He has a comment for everything, and I would expect him to have an entire dictionary’s worth of auto-reply phrases ready to go for every sexual scenario under the sun.
But he says nothing else, and I’m oddly satisfied by that.
Instead, he leans forward at last and presses a kiss to my clit. It’s a kiss that quickly turns to licking and sucking, and then he shifts, dragging his tongue over me in long strokes.
He slides his hands under my ass, lifting me up, as if to taste me more thoroughly and I dig my fingers into the arms of the chair, my breathing ragged.
My heart is pounding too hard and the rational part of me wants to overthink this already even as it’s happening, but the sensation is too much and I can’t make my brain function long enough to form a coherent thought.
Waves of pleasure wrack my body, building higher and higher. My hips rise of their own accord, chasing my pleasure. I move my hands from the arms of the chair to his hair and he practically growls at that, seeming spurred on by my reaction.
My knees clamp around his head and sounds I barely recognize come from my mouth and I know I’m not being good. Not following the rules. But Roman isn’t bothering to correct me, seeming too distracted himself to care.
He pulls his hand out from under me and I already know what’s coming before he teases my entrance with his fingers. I gasp, pressing my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out.
Roman seems to hear that, because he stops licking me and looks up. I want to cry when he stops because I’m so,so, close.
He smiles, and I swear he’s never looked hotter than when he’s between my legs, chin wet, his hair a mess from where I’ve grabbed it. He keeps teasing me with his fingers, slowly petting over my pussy, occasionally dipping inside just enough to make me squirm.
