Taming the Innocent Librarian: 6

◆◆◆ Chapter 6 ◆◆◆

~ Niklaus Henderson ~

I figured she would need a push.

Kris wasn’t the type to leap without looking twice — she was careful, thoughtful, the kind of woman who read every footnote before signing anything. All she needed was one hard shove to fall.

So I came to the library.

I missed her — badly. Not just the tight heat of her cunt or the way she gasped when I bottomed out inside her. I missed the way her hazel eyes widened behind those glasses when she looked at me, like I was something dangerous and beautiful at the same time. I wanted her beyond the selfish hunger that usually drove me. I wanted her kneeling because she chose it, not because the contract said so.

And here she was—behind the circulation desk, wide-eyed, flushed, surrounded by a damning pile of BDSM books. Fifty Shades, Story of O, The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty—pages dog-eared, spines cracked open like confessions. She looked up and saw me. Her breath caught. “Niklaus.”

The sound of my name on her lips went straight to my cock.

I let my gaze drop to the books, then back to her face. She flushed deeper, hands fluttering like she wanted to cover them.

“Thought about what I offered?” I asked, voice low enough that only she could hear.

She swallowed. “I do want a test before the main exam. Then I’d probably sign… if I pass the test.”

That did it.

The library was nearly empty — last stragglers heading for the door. I looked around once, confirming we were alone except for the faint hum of the air conditioning.

“Stand up.”

She did. Legs shaky, skirt riding just high enough to tease the tops of her thighs.

I stepped closer, crowding her against the desk until the edge bit into the backs of her legs. My hand lifted — knuckles grazing the soft underside of her jaw, tilting her face up so she had to meet my eyes.

“Tell me what you want to know,” I murmured. “Exactly.”

Her voice cracked. “I want to know… what it feels like when you’re in control. When I can’t decide. When I just… obey.”

My thumb pressed against her lower lip, parting it. She tasted faintly of mint and nerves.

“And if I tell you to kneel right here, right now, behind the circulation desk where anyone could walk in?”

Her core clenched — I could see it in the way her thighs pressed together, the tiny hitch in her breath.

“I’d do it,” she whispered.

A slow, predatory smile curved my mouth.

“Good girl.”

I leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“Library closes in ten minutes. When the last person leaves, lock the door. Then come to the back stacks. Third row. Kneel. Wait. Hands behind your back. Eyes down.”

I pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.

“And Kris?”

“Yes?”

“Leave the panties on the chair when you come find me.”

I turned and walked toward the exit without another word.

…

Ten minutes later the front door clicked locked. The lights dimmed to emergency mode. Silence swallowed the room except for the soft tread of her footsteps.

I waited in the third row — shadowed, bookshelves towering on either side like silent witnesses. She appeared at the end of the aisle, skirt already rucked up around her hips, wrists crossed behind her back. No panties. I could see the faint glisten on her inner thighs even from here.

She dropped to her knees on the carpet without hesitation—palms pressed to the small of her back, eyes down, breathing shallow. Nipples stabbed through the thin blouse like they were begging for teeth.

I took off my tie and walked behind her, tied up her wrists behind her and spanked her ass. She flinched. 

I circled around her, shoes silent on the carpet, until I stood over her face.

“You read every page,” I murmured, crouching so my mouth was at her ear. “You still came back.”

She nodded, cheeks flaming. “I want to know… what it feels like.”

I reached between her thighs — two fingers sliding through slick, swollen folds. She was drenched, clit pulsing under my touch. She whimpered, hips jerking forward.

“Quiet,” I ordered, curling inside her until her walls fluttered. “Librarians don’t make noise in the stacks.”

I withdrew my fingers, smeared her wetness across her lips like gloss and licked the remains of it in my fingers, then pushed back in — deeper, harder — while my thumb circled her clit in slow, punishing strokes. Her knees buckled; I caught her with my free arm around her waist, pinning her against the shelf behind her.

“Say it,” I growled.

“Please… Sir… fuck me.”

I spun her, bent her over the nearest low shelf, yanked her skirt higher and moved her bound hands over her shoulders. My belt clinked open, zipper rasped down. My cock sprang free — thick, leaking, throbbing from days of restraint and the sight of her like this: bent, trembling, dripping for me.

One hard thrust and I buried myself to the hilt.

She cried out—muffled against her own forearm. Tight. Hot. Perfect.

I didn’t go slow.

Each snap of my hips drove her breasts against the cold wood of the shelf, nipples scraping through fabric. I fisted her hair, arched her back until her spine bowed beautifully, ass presented like an offering.

“Count the strokes,” I commanded. “And thank me for each one.”

“One… thank you, Sir…”

I fucked her harder, deeper — the wet slap of skin echoing between the shelves like a filthy secret she could never unhear. Her cunt clenched around me with every thrust, milking, desperate.

“Two… thank you, Sir…”

By ten she was shaking, thighs quivering, breath coming in short, broken gasps.

“Fifteen… thank you, Sir…”

She was close — walls fluttering, clit swollen under my fingers when I reached around to rub tight circles.

I leaned down, teeth grazing her earlobe. “Cum for me, little librarian. Ruin the silence.”

She shattered — body convulsing, a choked cry muffled against her arm, cunt pulsing in hard, rhythmic waves around my cock. She soaked me, dripped down my balls, left a dark spot on the carpet beneath us.

I followed seconds later — hips slamming forward one last time as I emptied inside her. Pulse after hot pulse, filling her until it leaked out around my shaft and ran down her thighs in thick, creamy streaks.

When I finally pulled out, cum dripped steadily down her legs.

I untied her wrists with careful fingers, kissed the faint red marks the silk left behind.

“Next time,” I whispered against her skin, “we use the contract… and the cameras.”

She turned in my arms, eyes glassy, lips swollen, cheeks flushed.

“Next time,” she breathed, “I want everything.”