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Lazarus grips my hips and rises. My legs fold easily around his waist as he carries me further into the darkness of the empty second floor, lips fused.

We collapse in a wooden chair in the shadows, the only light coming from the outside decorations and the faint red of an exit sign.

I don’t need light to do this. To rub myself against him and find that his fingers are already leading the way. With a tug, my panties snap in half, and Lazarus strokes my skin, then my curls, working his way south to where wetness is flowing.

“Slippery and sweet,” he groans, swiping a finger across my lips without finding the entrance, stealing some of my juice and rubbing it over his bottom lip. “You taste so good. You taste... Even your blood tastes like all the things I have an appetite for. They said I didn’t really need to eat. They were wrong. So wrong.”

Lazarus is about to tip this chair over and plant me on his face, which sounds wonderful, but also like I’m going to end up with a sprained wrist again. I reach for his zipper and free his cock, rubbing it along my thigh.

“I haven’t been with... We didn’t...” Lazarus is trying to make sentences, but I’m not making it easy. My hand wraps around his long, thick hardness, thumb tracing the pulsing vein I feel along the side, teasing over the tip.

“No, we didn’t. But I’m so ready,” I whisper. “I’ve been thinking about you. Wishing I had more chances.”

“I’ve been thinking about you, you damn addiction,” he groans, gripping the back of my neck and keeping me in place while he kisses me, tongue plundering mouth, fingers plundering my pussy, daring to slide inside now, fast and solid.

“More! Fuck, more of that.” I bounce on his hand, alien feelings invading me.

This is the first time I’ve enjoyed someone’s touch, fully enjoyed it without nagging fears in the back of my head. No sudden worry that the wife would come in, or a rival with a gun would shoot up the place—or that they would suddenly hurt me, either with a cutting word or a slap that sent me cross-eyed.

Lazarus makes me feel safe, even though he’s so incredibly dangerous, and I hope he thinks the same way about me.

“I don’t think we should do more. If you make the noises I want you to make, we’ll get banned from the library. Manny and Rhea would kill me,” Lazarus whispers.

I bring his tip to my clit and rub the velvety smooth head back and forth against my eager little nub, sliding him up and down my slit without letting him slip in.

“I do use their computer stations every day or two,” I agree, a devilish feeling of mischief coursing through me. “I can come quietly. Can you?”

“I don’t want to rush. I want to... I want to do things like a real couple. Even monsters can have a partner. Dates. More.”

My eyes widen. I guess I never thought that he’d say that.

And more? What’s “more” look like to someone like Lazarus? What’s it look like to me?

“I want more. More dates. More time with you. Just more,” I whisper. I gasp when Lazarus’ fingers curl in a perfect half-circle inside of me, sweeping slowly back and forth along my most sensitive spots, making it feel as though he’s stroking my clit from the inside with his fingers while his leaking tip grinds against me.

“Drink tomorrow night? Jax Alley?”

I nod, biting my lower lip as his finger pounds inside me, slick sounds filling the library’s silent corner. Distant laughter and singing come from beneath us.

“We should stop,” Lazarus whispers, not stopping in the slightest.

“Mmhmm. In a few minutes.” My fist picks up speed.

“You’re not stopping.”

“Like you are?” I challenge, eyes starting to roll back. My toes pinch into points as pleasurable sparks shoot down my spine. “Oh, God...”

“I’m not a praying sort of guy, but I’ll join in on giving Him credit for this delicious little slit. I want that pussy on my mouth, Victoria. I want to be buried inside of you.”

“If you weren’t attempting to curb my public indecency, we could make that happen,” I suggest, shifting my hips forward, trying to snuggle his cock inside of me.

“I think I like your being publicly indecent—just not in a library where the entire town and my kinda-parents are listening to me fuck that tight little slit of yours.”

That would be mortifying—but since it isn’t happening and I know the risk of being discovered increases with every second we sit here, I press my lips against his ear and purr, “I want you to fuck that tight little slit, all the way to the hilt. I want you buried inside when you come. Do you want to see me dripping with your cum, Lazarus?” I run my tongue along the scar across his cheek while dipping my hips, squeezing his fingers and his cock against my slippery heat.

“Fuck!” Lazarus lets out a hoarse cry as he explodes against my thigh, clear, lukewarm fluid decorating me and running down my legs. “Vic! Victoria,” he breathes out, eyes wide. “You are so naughty.”

“The mistletoe made me do it,” I giggle, right before I finally reach the peak and topple over it, spasming on his fingers as they keep pumping, filling the library with soft, wet sounds.