1642734778_punk-57-pdf

“Just a little more, baby,” I urge. “How good are you willing to give it
to me to keep me quiet? Huh?”
“Ah,” she whimpers. “Yeah, whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
She nods frantically, crying out. “Yes!” She moves faster and faster,
chasing her orgasm, and then finally throws her head back and stills,
moaning and shivering as she comes. “Oh, God!”
I push my fingers deep inside her, rubbing her spot and feeling her
body’s little convulsions as the orgasm works through her.
She breathes hard and fast, her body tense, and my cock is hard and
ready to go, aching in my jeans. I wouldn’t want to screw her for the first
time in a library, but I didn’t expect to get myself this worked up, either.
Her orgasm ebbs away, and she calms, her chest rising and falling
slower and slower. I look down at her body and her beautiful face, a wave
of shit I don’t know what to do with washing over me.
Guilt, because she still doesn’t know who I am, and I’ve just dug myself
in deeper.
Longing, because I miss her. I miss talking to her as me.
Lust greater than I’ve ever known, because when we’re like this, it’s the
only time she softens and changes and gives me an inch, and it’s a need
that’s in my head just as much as my body. It keeps me on my toes.
And something else growing that I don’t want to be there. Something
that might make it very hard to leave her.
And impossible to forget her.
I watch her face, her body still and her eyes downcast, and a bad feeling
creeps through me. She’s not looking at me.
After a few moments, she sits up and crawls off me, standing up and
grabbing her clothes. I hesitate only a moment before I sit up, as well,