He releases my hands just long enough to yank my shirt up, his palms sliding over my bare stomach, fingers spreading wide. My nipples pebble under my bra and he doesn’t waste time—he drags the fabric down, exposing me, mouth latching onto one tight peak, sucking until I have to bite my lip to keep quiet.
“Levi—” I gasp, but he just groans, one big hand sliding down between my thighs. He finds me wet and ready, his fingers slipping under the thin cotton of my panties. He circles my clit with his thumb, slow and firm, watching my face the whole time.
“You want this?” His voice is a growl, low and dangerous.
“Yes. Please.” I don’t care how needy I sound.
He shoves my panties aside, two fingers sliding inside me, filling me. My head falls back against the wall, eyes closing as he works me, his thumb never leaving my clit. I’m already close, my hips moving against his hand, needing more, needing him.
He bites my shoulder, then lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist. I can feel how thick he is through his jumpsuit, his cock pressed right where I want him. He frees himself with one hand, rough and impatient, and then he’s lining up, the blunt head pushing at my entrance, right where I’m soaked and desperate for him. I can feel him holding back, teasing me, rubbing against my entrance but not giving me what I need.
He lifts my chin, his eyes dark and hungry. “Tell me you want it.”
“I want it. I want you.” My voice comes out needy, breathless.
He doesn’t give it to me yet. Instead, he kisses me again, slower this time, tongue sliding deep, his hands spreading my thighs wider around his waist. His lips move over mine, biting and tasting, owning me with every stroke of his mouth. His fingers grip my ass, holding me open for him. He kisses down mythroat, biting hard, sucking marks into my skin. My body arches into him, desperate for more.
He comes back to my mouth, kissing me until I’m dizzy, until my hips are rocking helplessly against him. He drags his tongue along my lower lip, then bites it, just hard enough to make me gasp.
I can feel him at my entrance, thick and hot and pulsing. He breaks the kiss, eyes locked on mine, and pushes in slow, stretching me wide. He groans low in his chest, his hand sliding up to cover my mouth, swallowing my cry as he fills me all the way.
He holds still, buried deep, his mouth finding mine again for another bruising kiss. I can barely think—just him, everywhere, his cock stretching me, his hands on my skin, his mouth owning mine.
He starts to move, thrusting deep and slow at first, every stroke making me whimper into his mouth. He fucks me harder, faster, the sound of skin on skin echoing between the shelves, the threat of being caught making it even hotter.
“Quiet,” he growls. “You want them to hear?”
I shake my head, but it’s almost impossible not to moan.
The pressure is perfect, every thrust a little rougher, a little deeper. The shelves rattle behind me. My fingers dig into his shoulders, desperate to hold on.
He kisses me hard, his tongue in my mouth, then pulls back, breathing ragged, eyes locked on mine. His hand stays over my lips, keeping me silent as he fucks me hard against the wall, the risk making me wetter, the tension making everything sharper.
I can’t help the sounds building in my throat. He feels it, presses down a little firmer, and fucks me faster. My hips rock up to meet him, the need for release almost painful.
When I come, it’s explosive, my body clenching around him, my scream swallowed by his palm. He keeps pounding into me,chasing his own finish, eyes dark with hunger. He pushes in deep, shudders, and I feel him spill inside me, still muffling any sound I make.
We stay like that, shaking, panting, his hand still over my mouth, his cock still inside me. When he finally lets go, he kisses me, rough and breathless, as if he needs to remind himself this was real.
“Next time, you better be quiet, or I’ll have to gag you,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, fingers still lingering at my lips.
Something about that threat makes my pulse spike. I’m still throbbing around him, the thought of him actually doing it making me even wetter. He must see it in my eyes because he gives me a crooked, knowing smirk.
Before either of us can move, the blare of alarms splits the silence. Harsh red lights flicker through the stacks. Levi’s whole body tenses. He pulls out of me, zips up in one practiced move, and yanks my panties back into place.
“Stay here,” he mutters, all business now, but his hand squeezes my thigh one last time, hard enough to promise this isn’t over.
Then he’s gone, disappearing between the shelves, leaving me breathless, sore, and still aching for him. I pull my clothes together, heart racing—not sure if it’s from the fear of being caught or just the memory of his mouth, his hand, his body pinning me against the wall.
The library’s suddenly full of shouting, footsteps pounding on concrete. I press myself back against the books, trying to disappear, trying not to grin like a girl with a filthy secret.
14
JC
The blaring alarms cut through the yard, echoing off concrete and steel. I drop the weight I’m lifting, scanning for guards, my gut already tight with worry. Every inmate’s head is up.
Prison is always on a hair trigger, and this is a new level of tense.
