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The warmth of his mouth leaves me as he tilts his head back.
“I want you to come all over my face,” he whispers. “Can you do that for me?”
I nod weakly.
He pushes one finger inside me, and my inner walls close around it so tightly that he groans too.
Now I hear a soft curse on the other side of the wall. Shane knows we’re in here, I realize. Maybe he knew the entire time and the phone call was meant as a cover. Either way, I’m too turned on to care that he’s standing out there. That he can likely hear every soft whimper exiting my throat. What Ryder is doing to me feels too incredible.
I want to come so bad. My core is on fire, breasts tight and achy, as I ride Ryder’s more-than-welcoming face. He holds my hips to keep me steady. His tongue tends to my throbbing clit while his finger continues to work its magic. Then he adds a second finger and I cry out.
Shane’s voice addresses the closed door. “Better come now, Gisele. They’re starting to talk.”
Ryder chuckles against my thighs.
I should be embarrassed. Mortified that not only is Shane listening to everything, he’s invested in my impending orgasm.
But his presence has the opposite effect. I become impossibly wetter as I picture him standing out there. I wonder if he’s hard, and a bolt of desire travels directly to my core. Ryder feels my inner muscles spasm around his finger, and his answering laugh sends vibrations through my swollen clit. I’m desperate for him to finish me off. My entire body burns for release.
I don’t care that we’re in the library, that our teammates are there, that Shane can hear us. All I know is this orgasm is coming and there’s no stopping it.
I almost fall over, but Ryder holds me upright. I’m gasping by the time the waves of bliss subside. He releases me, looking mighty pleased with himself as he slowly pulls my panties up my legs. Secures them around my waist. He does the same with my jeans. Zips them up for me. I try to button them, but my fingers are shaking too hard. He takes pity on me and does that too.
There’s a soft knock on the door. Then I hear, “Coast is clear,” and I’m not sure whether to be embarrassed or grateful that Shane was doing us a solid. To my relief, he’s not out there when I slip out. I don’t think I could have looked him in the eye.
My fingers tremble as I unlock my phone. I bring up my dad’s number because I need to show something for my disappearance.
Ryder lightly smacks my ass as he passes me in the stacks. It should be sleazy, but it only makes my thighs clench again. I stare at him in wonder until he disappears around the corner. How is he this good at making me forget my name, my surroundings?
Instead of calling my dad, I shoot him a text telling him we’re doing a charity auction and could he get us any cool hockey shit? Then I wind my way back to the table where Ryder’s already seated, ostensibly googling local businesses on his phone.
“Sorry, I couldn’t get in touch with him, so I sent him a text. I was on the phone with my mom,” I lie to the group.
Cami glances up at my approach, her dark eyes taking on that familiar gossipy gleam she always sports when discussing something particularly juicy.
“Holy shit, we were totally hearing sex noises coming from the European history stacks. Did you see anybody?”
“No. Oh my God.” I pretend to twist around in search of the sex culprit. “Who do you think it was?” I force myself not to look Ryder for fear of giving us away.
“I’m guessing Shane,” Cami replies, “’cause he’s been gone quite a while.”
As if on cue, Shane returns to the table with such nonchalance that I’d be questioning his absence if I didn’t know better.
“Dude, were you banging someone down there?” Demaine asks, looking kind of impressed.
“We heard sex noises,” Cami accuses.
“Oh. No.” Shane settles into his chair, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “I was, um, watching porn.”
“In the library?” Whitney sounds horrified.
“Yeah, but, uh, I wasn’t doing anything,” Shane says. He’s a terrible liar. And I feel guilty now because they have no idea what he’s really lying about. “Someone sent me a clip and I just… I was stupid. I opened it and there was this girl moaning on it. You know,” he finishes feebly, shrugging. “Porn stuff.”
“Porn stuff,” Whitney echoes in disbelief.
The meeting wraps up not long after, and everyone goes their separate ways. I walked to the library from the dorms, so I head outside prepared to make the trek back. As I button up my jean jacket, I hear my name. It’s Ryder. He appears on the path, hands in his pockets, Briar jacket unzipped.
