Page 12 of Want Me

I had to pin my erection behind my waistband as I got up to follow him. I didn’t know where we were going. I thought maybe to the single unisex bathroom on the third floor. Or hell, he could have been leading me back to our house for all I knew. He walked casually across the common area, not a care in the world, the stick of his sucker hanging out of his mouth and tenting his cheek while I trailed beside him. My gaze darted around like a cartoon villain expecting capture at any moment.

We walked to the north end of the library, and he pushed open the door to the stairwell, glancing back over his shoulder at me on the landing.

“No. Definitely not here.” I was becoming a broken record of disapproval. Eric’s laughter echoed and bounced around the cinder block walls.

“Nah, though the acoustics are great in here, and I’d love to hear you screaming out my name in surround sound.”

“Who says you won’t be screaming out mine?” I scoffed and traipsed down the stairs after him in long strides.

“I plan for my mouth to be too involved with your cock to manage your name.”

Oh. Well. Damn if that wasn’t an answer that my dick liked. I had no comeback for that.

We went down three flights to the basement.

It was musty down there, rife with the scent of old books and age and mildew, but it was a large, bright space with old fluorescent tube lighting that couldn’t quite keep up with the sheer surface area. This floor was doubly filled with shelves compared to the main floors, and they seemed mostly full of older titles the library wasn’t ready to get rid of yet. It was a little louder, too, a constant low-pitched white noise whir of what sounded like air-conditioning units running. I wasn’t sure. Most people seemed to prefer the big windows, natural light, and newer furnishings of the main floors, but the basement wasn’t empty either. I glimpsed a few clusters of people in some small niches as Eric wound us through the stacks.

He led me deeper among the shelves, toward the back wall of the library, directly below where I’d been sitting upstairs, his movements so sure that I wondered how many times he’d been back here before—which led to me wondering how many others he’d brought down here. I squashed the thought as soon as it made my skin prickle.

Eric shoved me against a bookshelf suddenly, pulling the sucker stick from his mouth, crunching the candy, and then setting the stick on the shelf beside my shoulder. He kept me pinned as he studied me.

“You’re in your head.” His voice was low.

I nodded. My erection had deflated. “Someone will see.”

“No one will see.”

His gaze was still fastened to mine, and I felt my cheeks heat as his other hand dipped low to cup my limp dick. He squeezed, massaged, and rolled his thumb around the head of my cock through my shorts.

He continued stroking me, coaxing my erection back to life while he watched me. My lips parted, my breath quickening as I hardened.

“Oh God.” With a jolt, my hips bucked into his hand, too much fabric between the warmth of his palm and the ache building in my dick.

“Shit yeah,” he murmured, “There you are. Mmm.”

Eric gave me a lazy grin and dropped his forehead to my shoulder, presumably watching his own hand stroke and squeeze the tent in my shorts while I stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do with my hands. Embrace him? I left them at my side and pressed my palms to the shelf. My hips started to roll of their own accord, chasing his touch, pressing into it. He pinched and kneaded my cock, then dropped lower, seeking out my balls, fingers gliding over the slippery fabric of my shorts and making me gasp—though I tried to keep quiet to little huffs of air through my nostrils, afraid if I opened my mouth I’d moan.

Dropping to his knees, Eric reached through the right leg hole of my shorts, bunching up the fabric and pulling me out. Then he wrapped his lips around the head of my cock, and I couldn’t stifle the groan I let out, even when his other hand tightened around my thigh in warning. My fist flew up to my mouth, and I bit my knuckles as he dragged his teeth lightly across the blood-flushed tip of my cock and then flicked his tongue over my slit, lapping up the precome beading in it. Pleasure—hard, striking notes of it—shivered up my spine, oozing through my groin.

“Eric.” It was a hiss of sound again. He had a way of making my speech come out raspy and serpentine.

He pulled off my dick and released the fabric of my shorts down to cover me, gazing up at me with a compliant half-smile on his lips. I shook my head, hands pressing hard against the shelves. “I can’t be quiet, dude, I can’t.”

“You can.” And then he put his finger to his lips, lifting one impertinent brow as he dragged my waistband down just enough to expose me. “Shhh.”

He spit in his palm and started pumping me again, slow, lengthy strokes that sent me rocking onto the balls of my feet. My hips swiveled and shimmied and thrust into his hand as he increased and relaxed pressure. God, he was a maddening, tantalizing bastard. My dick couldn’t keep up with the variation, wasn’t sure if it was coming or going.

“So good,” I sighed out.

Eric pried my hands from where they were gouging into the underside of the shelf and drew them up to the sides of his head. I dug my fingers through his soft strands, sinking into his scalp. He gripped my cock and opened his mouth, smacking my tip against the flat of his tongue while he looked up at me, a wide-eyed, knowing, teasing gaze that made me want to frown at him if only what he was doing didn’t feel so fucking good. He kissed the tip of my cock, swirling his tongue over the head, suctioning with his lips, then pulling off with a soft pop that made me shiver. Another shudder rolled through me, my eyes threatening to bulge out of my sockets as he rubbed my head back and forth over his full lips, glossing them with spit and precome. Jesus, that sight alone promised to be fodder for my solo sessions for weeks to come.

“Go ahead. Fuck my throat.” His voice was a gravel-laced command, even when he was offering himself up to me. God, he was hot. Dirty hot. Filthy hot. The kind of shit I couldn’t even dream up in my own fantasies. The kind that made me feel like I was on the verge of coming every time he opened his mouth and said stuff like that. He could probably snap his fingers and make me come, and if we kept fooling around like this, I had no doubt that’d be on the menu at some point. I could tell he liked how he could manipulate me, but I figured it was fair trade.

My fingers trembled in his hair as he opened his mouth. A gentle nudge of my hips fed my dick past his plump lips, and when I hit the back of his throat, he swallowed, soft tissue closing and opening around me. Impossibly warm, impossibly soft.

“Fuuuuccccckkk,” I whimpered.

His eyes were wide and watering beneath the thick splay of dark lashes, fire in them, raw want and shadow. I pulled out and thrust in again. And again. I’d never fucked anyone’s throat before, not the way I was able to with him—careless and without worrying about choking or gagging him, which I did a couple of times. My hips pistoned as I glided in and out of that wet heat. The inside of his mouth was so hot and slick, the pleasure sharpening to piercing when I hit the drag of his teeth. I closed my eyes, let my head fall back and my dick pummel the back his throat over and over until I felt my orgasm close in. My balls tightened up, and he tugged on them.So close. So, so close.My quads vibrated with the buildup, and my release was within reach. I prepared to see stars, and I couldn’t fucking wait to blast my load into the back of his throat.