56 | Nina

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"If anyone comes in here..."

I hold my breath, listening for the telltale sound of footsteps or voices lingering outside the room. I could've sworn I heard something a moment ago, but at the moment, it's the last thing on my mind. 

"No one's coming. Just keep going." I flex my neck, wishing I could turn my head to see the look on his face. The sharp edges of the book spines pressing into my cheek make me wince. 

"I don't think you're really in a position to make demands," comes Santo's low voice, and I shiver. Any movement brings pain shooting down my arms—he has them wound behind my back with one hand crushing both wrists at the base of my spine. Regardless, I try to move, seeking out the warmth of his body that he pulled away from me when he thought there was someone outside. 

He chuckles tauntingly. "Needy little thing. Do you think you can tell me what to do? Huh?" I press forward into the bookshelf he has me against but there's nowhere to go. "Think you're calling the shots?"

A low moan manages to escape past my clenched teeth as I feel him, hard and pulsing against the sensitive skin of my ass. I lost track of the amount of times his palm has made rough contact there, but it's enough that any touch sends spikes of pain shooting through the abused area.

"Please." My head swims and I'm dizzy, limbs exhausted from being held in this singular position on the brink of pleasure for so long. Every single muscle screams in protest, but worse than that is the desperate knot of tension and pressure between my legs that he refuses to satisfy. 

I practically sob in frustration as he teases me again, right over where I need him, dragging the head of his cock through the evidence of just how fucking bothered I am before pulling away again. I'm not left alone long, however. He releases my wrists, and the pain is blinding for a second as my limbs scream in relief. Then he's turning me around. 

Now that I can see him, I can tell he's affected. His chest glistens and his hair is doing that thing where it waves slightly when it's damp. His eyes are all dilated and black, and they glint in satisfaction as I helplessly drag my gaze down his body.

Like every time I look at him and his inked mass of muscles, butterflies flutter in my stomach. But now they drop lower as I take in the sight of him and how hard he is, how much his body craves mine. The look on his face is passive and cruel, like he couldn't care less, and the contrast practically leaves me breathless. 

"Please what? Use your words and I'll give you what you want."

"Please fuck me," I say breathlessly, watching him tilt his head in that cold, assessing way. 

"No. I changed my mind," he dismisses, and I squirm helplessly against his hold. At this point, I'm not sure I can take this for another fucking second. 

In the dim light of the corner of the library we're in, I see his face gain a fraction of warmth. His lips twitch, hands trailing to my hips. "Later, sweet girl. Let's play with you a little first, yeah? So fucking pretty. Need to worship you."

Then he lowers himself to his knees before me. Somehow, even in this submissive position with his face level with my navel, he still manages to look in control. My thighs quiver at the rough scratch of his beard as he presses kisses from the inside of my knee, up towards where I need him. And when he finally buries his face in the mess he's created, my knees buckle. I grab desperately at whatever's around me, knocking a few books off the shelf before I find a sturdy hold. 

He's finally not holding back, and I could fucking pass out at the relief. I can already feel my orgasm beginning to crash down on me, tingling numbness starting to tremble at the base of my spine. I can hardly manage to look down at him, at the sharp point of his jaw and the way it flexes as he fucks into me desperately, because the next second he does something with his tongue that has me positively seeing stars. My orgasm washes over me like a tidal wave, leaving me shaking and breathless in its wake. 

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