Chapter Two - Confessions in the Dark

By the time Maya finally pushed herself up from the library chair, her body was still humming, her pulse refusing to calm. She stuffed her papers into her bag in uneven stacks, telling herself she’d focus now, get something, anything done before the night was gone. And somehow she did. Fueled by adrenaline and the lingering ache between her thighs, she finished a few pages of her assignment, scribbled notes until the words blurred, and snapped a quick photo of the draft to prove to herself it hadn’t all been wasted.

Before leaving, she pulled out her phone. One message, short and necessary. Alive. Don’t worry. She sent it to Lena, knowing her friend wouldn’t ask for details but would breathe easier just the same.

The night was still young, too young to go straight back to her empty apartment. So she let herself be pulled along when the group chat lit up, three girlfriends and one guy bestie, all headed to a local bar just off campus. The kind of place that smelled like sticky citrus and spilled beer, neon lights humming overhead, every booth stuffed with people who pretended tomorrow didn’t exist.

Maya slid into the booth beside the girls. There was Tasha, already waving down shots; Lauren, with her quick laugh and quicker tongue; and Zoe, who always managed to charm the bartender into giving her free drinks. Across from them sat Ben, broad-shouldered and attractive in the obvious way, square jaw, clean-cut, the kind of guy mothers liked. And yet he’d never lit a spark in her. He had interest, plenty of it, eyes tracking her every move, but none of the dangerous pull she craved.

“Finally!” Tasha grinned, sliding a glass toward Maya. “We thought you were bailing again.”

“Work,” Maya said, keeping her voice light. She knocked back the shot, the burn chasing down her spine.

Hours blurred into laughter, rounds piling up, the table scattered with empty glasses. It was only when her head tilted back against the booth, dizzy warmth buzzing through her veins, that the words slipped out.

“I… might’ve done something stupid,” she confessed, her lips quirking in a half-smile.

The girls leaned in instantly, eyes bright, hungry for gossip.

Lauren grinned. “Oh, do tell.”

Maya licked her lips, lowering her voice just enough to make them lean closer. “I stayed at the library after hours. And… someone found me.”

“Found you?” Zoe squealed, covering her mouth like she’d just heard the dirtiest secret.

Tasha slammed her palm against the table, laughing. “Maya! You bad girl. That’s so naughty. In the library!? What did you guys do?”

"Nothing really" she confessed. It was just a first time meet situation. We had some playful banter and then he left but it was sucha turn on and he was everything he claimed he was online."

Her cheeks warmed, though it wasn’t entirely from the alcohol. She nodded, feeling the thrill of it rise again just from saying it aloud.

Ben’s jaw tightened across the table. “That’s not funny,” he muttered, tone sharp. “You don’t know who that guy was. He could’ve—”

“Oh, relax,” Tasha cut in, waving a dismissive hand. “She’s fine. Look at her, flushed, glowing. Definitely fine.”

Maya chuckled, the sound shaky. "It wasn't… bad. He didn't hurt me. He…" She trailed off, realizing how much she was revealing, but the girls' eager faces pulled it out of her. "He just… knew what to say. What to do?"

“God, that’s even hotter,” Lauren groaned, fanning herself.

Ben’s glare hardened. “You’re seriously glamorizing this? He could’ve taken advantage of you, Maya. This isn’t a game.”

She set her glass down harder than she meant to. “That was kind of the point Ben. But we just talked. Plus, you’re not my boyfriend, Ben. Back off.”

She knew that was a low blow. She didnt need to cut his balls off right there in front of everyone but she was annoyed.

His lips pressed into a line, but he didn’t argue. The silence that followed was awkward, broken only by Tasha clapping her hands together and declaring it was time for another round.

By the time Maya stumbled back to her apartment, her head was heavy, her body loose. She poured herself a glass of wine, curled into the couch, and pulled her phone close. The chat window glowed in the dim light.

Tomorrow night, she typed, her fingers trembling with liquid courage. You should anticipate me up against the stacks. Teased. Not fucked. Not yet.

Her thumb hovered for only a second before she hit send.

The next morning hit harder than she wanted.

Maya rolled onto her side, the wine glass still balanced on the coffee table, a thin red stain circling the bottom. Her head throbbed, her mouth dry, but it wasn't the hangover that made her groan. It was a memory. The words she'd typed, glowing across the screen before she passed out.

You should anticipate me up against the stacks. Teased. Not fucked. Not yet.

She pressed her palms over her face, heat blooming across her cheeks. God. What had possessed her to send that? Courage born from tequila and cheap merlot. And yet, reading the message back now in the morning light, a shiver traced her spine. She didn’t regret it. Not really.

Her phone buzzed against the cushion, startling her. Lena.

How are you alive?

Maya smirked, thumbs moving sluggishly across the screen. Barely. Hungover. But alive. Promise.

Good. Next time you vanish, I’m dragging you home myself.

She could almost hear Lena’s dry tone through the words. They didn’t need to spell everything out. Lena had been the one she’d always leaned on, even when the truth sounded too wild to say. Especially then.

Dragging herself into the shower, Maya let the water beat against her skin until the tension eased. Still, the memory of the stranger lingered: his scent, his voice, the weight of his gaze, as if it had burned into her skin. She remembered the girls' laughter at the bar, their teasing voices calling her a bad girl, a naughty one. And she remembered Ben's scowl, his sharp warning.

She ignored the guilt that tried to sneak in around the edges. What she felt last night hadn't been danger. It had been clear. Raw, undeniable clarity. For the first time in a long time, she knew what she wanted.

By noon, she had cleaned her apartment, brewed coffee strong enough to scrape the fog from her brain, and sat at her desk pretending to work. Her notebook lay open, but the words refused to come. Instead, she scrolled through the chat app, rereading every line she and the stranger had shared.

Most of it had been vague, teasing. Promises threaded through anonymity. But she noticed now how often he seemed to predict her, to echo the things she only half-admitted to herself. You like the risk. You want to be seen. You want someone else to set the rules.

Her stomach fluttered. He’d been right about all of it.

The screen lit up with a new message.

I’ll be there tonight. You’d better keep your word.

She inhaled sharply, pulse racing. There was no name, no emoji, no flourish, just that blunt certainty.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She wanted to tell him no, that it was too much, too fast. She tried to tell him yes, that she hadn't been able to think of anything else since the last time. Instead, she typed two words and hit send.

I will.

The rest of the afternoon blurred, tasks half-finished, thoughts drifting. By the time the sky began to dim outside her apartment window, she had convinced herself this wasn’t insanity, it was control. She was choosing it. Choosing him.

Maya pulled on a black sweater and a short skirt, something casual enough to pass as study clothes, but easy enough to shed if the night went the way she imagined. Her hair was up in her usual space buns, practical and familiar, but her reflection in the mirror looked different. She looked like someone walking into temptation with her eyes open.

As she locked her door behind her, her heart kicked into a faster rhythm. Each step toward the library felt like a countdown.

By the time Maya reached the library steps, the evening had draped itself across Eldridge Falls in shades of deep blue. The building loomed above her, familiar yet altered, like it had been waiting for her to come back. Her stomach fluttered as she climbed, each footstep heavier than the last.

The doors groaned when she pushed them open, spilling her into the hush of the main hall. Too quiet. Too empty. The daytime hum of students and printers had vanished, leaving behind the hollow echo of her own breathing.

She told herself she was here to study, her bag weighed down with books, pens, and a half-finished assignment. But her body knew better. Her body was already tuned to expectation.

The third floor drew her like a magnet. She moved past rows of darkened lamps until she reached the alcove where she’d sat before. Her heart pounded so hard it made her ears ring. She set her things down, pulled out her notebook, and tried to pretend. Pen in hand. Head bowed. Just another late night.

The silence pressed in.

Then, footsteps. Slow. Certain.

Her breath caught. She didn't look up. Not yet. She wanted to feel the moment, to let the anticipation coil tighter and tighter until it had no choice but to snap.

“You came back.” he said.

His voice slipped around her like smoke, low and threaded with satisfaction.

Maya lifted her eyes. He was already there, leaning against the shelf, the shadows cutting sharp lines across his face. Tonight he wore dark jeans and a button-down rolled at the sleeves, the fabric stretched over broad shoulders. His boots scuffed the old wood, heavy, deliberate.

“I said I would,” she murmured.

“And you told me what to expect.” His mouth curved in a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Up against the stacks. Teased. Not fucked. Not yet?”

Her pulse jumped. Hearing her own words thrown back at her made them real in a way she hadn’t been prepared for.

He pushed off the shelf and closed the distance between them in unhurried strides. When he reached her table, he didn’t sit. He simply stood, close enough that she could smell the faint trace of cedar and smoke that clung to him, his presence filling the space until she felt small in her chair.

“Stand up,” he said softly.

Her pen slipped from her fingers. She rose on shaky legs, the chair scraping against the floor. He guided her, not with a touch, not yet, but with a subtle shift of his body, back toward the shelves.

Her spine met the cool edge of the stacks. She inhaled sharply, books pressing against her shoulders, the air between them shrinking until he was only inches away.

“You told me to tease you,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers. “So that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

She thought it was cute. The two of them had discussed how these encounters would go if they ever came to fruition but he was so conifdent and cocky but tonight, in his voice she could sense the sensitivity behind his words. Even in the aggression she could tell that he was fishing for certainty that she was consenting. It was nice. It made her feel claimed, desired, and safe all in one but kept the aggression she had been wanting. 

His hand lifted, not to grab but to trace, one finger ghosting along the line of her jaw, skimming down her throat, hovering just above her collarbone. The touch was maddeningly light, enough to make her shiver, not sufficient to satisfy. His other hand was just skimming up her inner thigh as if he was trying to sneak it by while his other hand focused on her face. 

Maya’s lips parted, a soft breath escaping. She wanted more. She wanted him to close the gap, to press against her until she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. But he only smiled, reading the plea in her face. She opened her mouth wider in a slow attempt to suck his thumb but he pulled away. 

“Not yet,” he whispered.

His fingertip dipped lower, grazing the edge of her sweater, then trailing just beneath the hem where it exposed a sliver of skin. Heat shot through her belly, her thighs clenching as if her body could answer for her.

She shut her eyes, surrendering to the sensation, the sheer torment of being so close, so far.

His finger lingered at the hem of her sweater, the faintest drag that sent shivers racing across her skin. He didn’t push higher, didn’t take what she was silently begging him for. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath ghosting her ear.

"You tremble easily," he whispered. "I fucking love that. "

He was right. She had always trembled during foreplay, that involuntary shiver she could never control. At first it mortified her, made her feel exposed in ways she hadn’t chosen. But then she noticed the way men reacted, the way their voices thickened, their hands tightened, their praise spilled out just from watching her body give itself away. What once embarrassed her had become a secret source of pride. Her trembling wasn’t weakness. It was proof of how deeply she could feel, how quickly she could unravel.

Maya’s knees nearly buckled. She gripped the edge of the shelf behind her, steadying herself as his fingertip slid across her stomach in the barest line. Her body lit up like kindling, desperate for more than the brush he gave her.

Then he did something that made her instantly soaked, so fast she hardly believed her own body could respond like that. His hand slid up, gripping one of her space buns as if it were a handle, twisting just enough to make her gasp before ordering her to turn.

She obeyed, eyes flying open, peaking back to see what he was doing only to find him studying her with unnerving focus. His head tilted slightly, gaze sharp and unyielding. He wasn’t looking at her clothes, or even the skin he’d just teased, but at her expression, the parted lips, the faint arch of her back, the frantic pulse thrumming at her throat. He was memorizing every detail of the way she came undone without him needing to do much at all.

“Say it,” he murmured.

Her voice cracked. “Say what?”

“What you told me in those messages.” His smile curved, the faintest edge of command laced in amusement. “What you wanted.”

Heat climbed her cheeks. She could still see the words, glowing against her phone screen, the ones she never imagined she’d be forced to repeat aloud. Her throat tightened, but the truth pressed harder than the shame.

“I wanted… to be found,” she whispered.

His grin sharpened. “And now?”

Her body answered before her voice did, pressing unconsciously closer, seeking him. “Now I want more.”

His hand finally touched her properly, flat against her hip, heavy, anchoring. The sudden weight of it made her gasp. He didn’t push lower, not yet, just held her there against the stacks, his thumb stroking the curve of her waist through the thin fabric. Then one finger slipped free, tracing the soft line beneath her belly, moving slowly up and down as though he might plunge down the front of her skirt. But he didn’t.

Maya had always been a little self-conscious about the slight curve of her stomach. It was barely anything, but enough to make her wonder if men really liked it. He gave her the clearest answer, he was obsessed with it. His fingertip dragged back and forth, deliberate, savoring her, as if the place just below her navel was his favorite spot to tease. Every time he stroked it she squirmed, fighting the urge to cave, and she could feel how much he enjoyed that she was already coming undone.

She had never felt so vulnerable. And never so wanted.

“You’ll get more,” he said softly, “but only when I decide you’re ready for it.”

Maya shivered, the words striking deeper than his touch. Control. That was what this was. Not a demand, not force, but control offered like a challenge, daring her to accept the terms.

His other hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her space buns. He tucked it behind her ear with an intimacy that felt almost out of place after the sharpness of his words. Then his thumb grazed her jawline, tracing downward until it rested against her lower lip.

Her breath hitched.

Slowly and deliberately, he pressed his thumb past her parted lips, just enough for her tongue to brush against the pad of his skin. The taste of salt, the sheer audacity of it, made her whimper low in her throat.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

The praise sent a violent tremor through her. She clenched her thighs, desperate for friction, for release, but he pulled his hand back before she could chase the touch.

Maya sagged against the shelves, trembling. Every nerve in her body screamed at the absence, at the emptiness he left behind. He studied her like she was a puzzle he’d only just begun to solve, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. 

Then she did something that made her intentions unmistakable. She eased her feet apart, not obscenely wide, but deliberately enough that the message was clear. Three feet of space, her body asking for exactly what her mouth wouldn’t say.

“Oh?” His low laugh slid over her skin, both tender and taunting. “You think you’re ready for that, love?”

The endearment should have unsettled her. They had agreed no pet names. Instead, it sent a sharp thrill straight through her. She nodded slowly, still facing the bookcase, her hands rising toward her mouth so she could feel the rush of her own breathing against her knuckles.

“No,” he whispered, the denial striking harder than a touch. “You don’t get that tonight. But…”

His palms brushed up the insides of her thighs, deliberate strokes that stole the strength from her knees. A moan slipped out, her lips parting as he teased higher, his touch hovering until it met the thin barrier of her panties.

Another soft sound broke from her throat, but she held herself steady, every muscle trembling with restraint.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, voice sharp and low. “Stay still.”

In one swift motion, his hand fisted the fabric just below her sex, tugging down until the panties slid past her hips and exposed the curve of her ass. The suddenness of it tore a louder sound from her than she expected, raw and needy, and she knew without a doubt that the damp heat clinging to the fabric had touched his skin.

His left hand found her again, gripping one of her space buns like a handle, while the other kept a firm hold on her panties, anchoring her in place. She stood there facing the shelves, legs spread, chest heaving, entirely at his mercy.

"Good girl. Remember this,” he said, stepping back a pace, though his gaze never wavered. “Because it’s only the beginning of our foreplay.”

Her breath came in ragged bursts. She wanted to protest, to demand more, but her voice refused to obey. She could only watch as he turned away, his boots echoing softly against the wooden floor, retreating like he had the first night.

This time, though, there was no relief. Only hunger.

Maya stayed pressed against the shelves long after his footsteps faded, her chest heaving, her hands trembling against the spines of forgotten books. The silence returned, but it wasn’t the same. It felt charged, like the walls had witnessed everything and weren’t going to let her forget.

She finally forced herself to move, shaky legs carrying her back to the table. Adjusting her skirt and panties getting herself together. Her notebook sat open, accusing in its emptiness, the pen still lying where it had fallen. She stared at the page, trying to will herself into focus, but all she could see was the press of his thumb against her mouth, the heat of his hand on her hip, the single word that had left her undone. Good girl.

Her thighs clenched involuntarily, a fresh wave of need rolling through her. She snapped the notebook shut, stuffing it into her bag as if hiding the evidence could settle the storm inside her.

The library felt too big as she left, every echo of her footsteps reminding her of his retreating steps. By the time she stepped out into the cool night air, her skin was still flushed, her pulse still racing. She pulled her sweater tighter, as though that would disguise the heat simmering beneath.

Back at her apartment, she tossed her bag down and went straight to the kitchen, uncorking the half-finished bottle of wine from the night before. The glass trembled in her hand as she poured, and she didn't wait to sit before taking a long, first sip.

The quiet pressed in again, but this time she welcomed it. She curled onto the couch, glass balanced in one hand, phone glowing in the other. The chat app pulsed with unread messages, and she didn’t hesitate.

Her fingers flew, fueled by the lingering ache, the thrill she couldn’t shake.

You were right. It was only the beginning.

She hesitated, staring at the words. Then added:

Tomorrow I want more. Don’t make me wait so long next time.

Her thumb hovered, then pressed send.

The reply came almost instantly, as though he’d been waiting for her.

Be ready to be patient. Wanting is half the lesson.

Maya groaned softly, tipping her head back against the cushions. It was infuriating. It was intoxicating. It was exactly what she craved.

She drained the rest of her glass, set it aside, and closed her eyes, letting the heat of his voice, the memory of his touch, pull her under. Sleep came late and restless, tangled with shadows and whispers that left her body aching even as her mind spun.

One thing was sure. Tomorrow, she would go back. She would step into the silence of the library again, knowing she wouldn't be alone.

And this time, she wouldn’t settle for only a tease.