“And… maybe some other stuff.”
“You want to be specific, or should I just use my imagination?”
“Mmmmhmm.”
“Good,” Morrie rocked forward on his heels, curling his naked body around me, his hardness pressing between my legs. “Because I’ve been imagining you naked and under my power ever since you first walked up to the shop.”
Morrie claimed my lips. His kiss blazed through my body – a forest fire leaping from limb to limb, gorging itself on the fuel of my uncertainty. Morrie’s kiss lit me up inside and out.
His hands gripped my arms, pinning them to my sides as he backed me down the hall, against the bookshelf. Every step, every movement, was measured and controlled, straining against the fire that threatened to overwhelm him. Morrie broke our kiss for a moment to reach out and slide the bolt across the front door. Then he was back, kissing me until I was breathless, panting for him.
“It appears we have reached the poetry shelf,” Morrie mumbled, his fingers flicking over my breasts. My nipples stood erect through my shirt.This is insane. Why am I doing this? This is James Moriarty.TheJames Moriarty. But no matter how much I chastised myself, I couldn’t tear my lips from his, or stop my body from shuddering with joy as he circled his fingers over my nipples.
Morrie shrugged off my jacket and yanked my sweater over my head. Reaching behind me, he pulled a slim volume from the shelf. “Ah, John Donne. This shall do nicely.” He flicked through the pages while I waited, my panties already soaked through.
My mind reeled.I’m standing here half naked, my body on fire, and he’s reading?
Morrie stopped at a page. He slid his hand behind me and unclipped my bra. As it fell away, he grabbed a nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he spoke:
“Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,
As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be,
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta’s balls, cast in men’s views,
That when a fool’s eye lighteth on a Gem,
His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
Like pictures, or like books’ gay coverings made
For lay-men, are all women thus array’d;
Themselves are mystic books, which only we
(Whom their imputed grace will dignify)
Must see reveal’d. Then since that I may know;
As liberally, as to a Midwife, shew
Thy self: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
There is no penance due to innocence.”
As Morrie spoke the last line, he slid his hand under my waistband and pushed a finger against my clit. I was so fired up that it only took that small touch to send me over the edge. I braced myself against the shelf as an orgasm shuddered through me.
Holy fuck.
I take it all back. Having a guy with a voice like Morrie recite poetry while he touches you all over is the best thing ever.
Morrie held me until I sagged against him. “I’m not even close to being done with you yet, gorgeous,” he murmured against my lips.
He slid my jeans and panties over my thighs, kicking them across the rug. Morrie’s fingers crept up my thighs, a slow walk. He brushed a finger across my wetness, and I nearly came right then, staring at the shelves of poetry books.
“You are thus arrayed,” he grinned. “License my roving hands, and let them go, Before, behind, between, above, below.”
