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Red-Faced In The Library

She caught her breath as she saw him. He was hot. Very hot. Rugged-looking with tan skin, high cheekbones and dark, black hair. He strolled out from between the library shelves and sat himself down a few desks away from her. She watched his arm muscles flex in his tight checked shirt as he leisurely opened his textbook. It sent a tingle of excitement through her.

She stopped herself and flicked her eyes back down to her book. She couldn't be distracted. She had an essay due and the university was strict on deadlines. She focused back on the text and started to jot down notes. She managed to absorb the content of a few lines, then a few more; but the temptation to look at that gorgeous man again rose inside her.

"Don't look at him! Don't look at him!" she thought, her internal frustration rising. She wanted to get her notes done quickly so she could still go out and enjoy the sun with her friends later. She smoothed down her short skirt along her bare legs and read another paragraph.

Ok, maybe she could let herself take a look at him after each paragraph? She could allow herself that couldn't she? As a reward maybe?

Slowly her head rose and she peeked over in his direction, drinking him in. God he was captivating. His lips were luscious and he had short, dense stubble across his beautiful face. His arm muscles flexed again as he turned the page of his book. Oh, what would it be like to touch those muscles? To feel his strength and power? To have him hold her tightly as he kissed her? Or pinning her helpless little body down on a bed? She felt her pussy begin to dampen between her legs. She bit her lip.

He shifted back in his chair and looked up. Their eyes met. He paused for a second, then he grinned like a tiger. She inhaled, then snapped her head back down to her book. Oh God. She'd been caught out. She blushed and hid behind the safe barrier of her hair. She tried to commit her mind to the text, not daring to return his gaze. But she couldn't concentrate. She felt so exposed, there were hardly any other people around. Her mind buzzed. Was he still looking? Was he watching her as she became all fidgety and nervous? Was he laughing at her?

She tried to push those thoughts from her head. He'd only seen her steal one glance hadn't he? It wasn't that big of a deal was it? She steadied her breathing. "Please brain, get back to work!" she mentally begged herself. She scanned across her open book, trying to absorb the long strings of words, but try as she may, she couldn't focus. She found herself flowing through several paragraphs before snapping back to reality with the realization that she remembered nothing of what she just read.

What would it be like running her hands across his muscular chest? What would it be like if he undressed her? What would it be like if he slipped his dick inside her wet little pussy and fucked her?

She squeezed her legs together, feeling the heat rise between them. God, why did her mind always do this to her?

She wanted to look at him again, but she didn't want to be caught. She had to be clever. With tension in her muscles she shifted her gaze towards the window. Maybe there would be a reflection. And there was. She let her pupils wander. His beautiful dark brown eyes stared down at his textbook. His shirt clung to his well-developed chest and looked like it was trying to strangle his arms. His biceps bulged, the tan skin taught against his muscles.

Taking a deep breath, she ran her hands along the smooth skin of her naked legs. She allowed herself to squeeze her thigh muscles together, sending a little pulse of pleasure through her swollen crotch.

She exhaled in exasperation, frustrated by her lack of progress. She had to get this, she had to find a way to learn and process the material, but her body wasn't playing nice. It was involuntarily reacting to this man, stealing away her focus. She longed to reach down and touch herself. God, if people only knew the thoughts that ran through her head.

He shifted back in his seat. Then his eyes flicked over to the window.

He saw her looking.

Oh God, oh God, oh God! She froze like a rabbit in headlights. She'd been caught out again. Her mind went blank, stunned with embarrassment and transfixed by his stare. In one quick movement she jerked her head around and looked at him directly.

A weak smile spread across her face as the heat in her cheeks rose. "Sorry," she mouthed, pathetically. Subconsciously she grasped a stray lock of her long brown hair; and with jittery little movements, she twisted the end around her fingers.

His eyes met hers.

Her heart rate quickened. She tried to suppress it, but she couldn't. She could feel her blood pressure rising and heat radiate from her cheeks.

His eyes. Jesus Christ, his eyes. They were fixated on her, his dark, brown eyes. They were so dark and piercing, almost black. An evil grin spread across his face, like an amused predator seeing a juicy little animal walk right across his path. A buzz of terror and arousal coursed through her veins.

His eyes started to wander all over her, absorbing every detail as they went: her pretty face, her heaving chest in her little v-neck top, her flimsy little skirt, and the exposed flesh of her legs. Her cheeks flushed ever-deeper with nervousness but this stranger's intensity never left her. He didn't care that she knew he was looking. His eyes lingered on her body like he owned it. Her breathing quickened, like a cornered little bunny. Could he see the effect he was having on her? Maybe he could see the way her cheeks had become red, but couldn't tell that her pussy was hot and wet from his attention. Could he?

He rose to his feet.

She inhaled.

He started to move towards her. No, no, no! The tension rose in her muscles. She fidgeted. She adjusted her legs, crossing them from one side to the other. Could he see up her flimsy little skirt? Could he see her tiny panties? Could he see how wet she was? She clamped her legs tightly together, fearing that, like a wild animal, he would be able to sense her arousal.

"Stop acting weird, stop acting weird, stop acting weird," she pleaded to herself. "He's just some guy."

That wasn't true though. This was a guy that was exciting her, causing her body to react against her will. Her pussy was on fire; her breathing heavy; her breasts heaving; and her nipples clearly visible in her top.

She quickly looked back down at her books, her face emblazoned with heat, her pussy aching. Terror flooded through her. What was he going to say? What would she say?

She sensed him walk behind her. A large shadow drew across her books. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Her hands bunched into tight fists. She didn't look up: too embarrassed think; too tiny to fight; too petrified to run. Her muscles didn't even feel like they'd work anymore. Her stomach knotted, her mouth went dry. He just stood there behind her. Oh God! What was he doing?

Her nose detected a hint of his scent. Intoxicating, musky and unmistakably masculine. A real man's smell. A powerful man's smell. A dangerous man's smell. Her spine arched slightly. Then her ears prickled. Subtle sound of his jeans rubbing together reverberated through her ears. She heard the chair beside her drag across the worn, commercial grade carpet. He sat down next to her. Oh God!

She heard a book being placed on the table, the pages opening, but still she kept her head down, hiding behind the shroud of her hair. Her eyes focused on the table. Her body began to tremble.

Nothing was said, no attempt on his part to initiate a conversation.

What was he doing? Why did he come next to her if he wasn't going to say anything? Was he messing with her? Did he like to watch her squirm?

She could just see him out of the corner of her eye. His big, strong arms resting heavily on the table with his book between them. She tried to suppress her fidgeting, tried to dampen her labored breathing and the rise and fall of her breasts. Why did her body have to do this to her?

He was so big, so powerful. And he was right there beside her, taunting her with his presence. She could feel the heat radiating from his arms. Was he looking at her? Was he grinning at her? Was he going to tell all his friends about this weird little girl in the library? This weird little girl who kept staring at him like a stalker?

Was he going to punish her? Was he already punishing her? She squeezed her legs together tighter, her heat rising in line with her blood pressure.

She squirmed there with these questions burning through her mind, her face still flushed and her breasts heaving from her deep, quick breaths. Could he hear her labored breathing? Why was he not saying anything? She wanted to look over at him, but she didn't want him to see how red she was. He had done nothing but look at her, smile and then come sit next to her.

Her muscles tightened, the frustration ate away her wits. She could take it no more, needing to exit the library, run home and rub her wet, swollen pussy until it was raw. God, she was going insane.

His strong hand reached under the table, and grasped her bare knee. Her body jolted. A gasp left her lips. A lightning bolt of electricity fired from her nerve endings straight to her clit. His large fingers enveloped her joint. Her breathing quickened, her nipples strained against her bra. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She didn't know what to do.

Her head snapped around to look at him. And there he was, his handsome features grinning back at her. His eyes burning into hers, unflinching, unblinking and twinkling with amusement. Her lips parted. Any resistance she could muster simply withered under his gaze.

She felt his hand start to rub her knee, then gradually begin to travel up the inside of her leg. His movement was slow, but his destination obvious. Her heat continued its insufferable rise. Her eyes flicked desperately across the room. Was anyone watching? But the room was sparsely populated and its few inhabitants had their faces buried in their books... at least for now. But what if they looked up? What if they saw her getting touched? What if they saw her red-faced and panting?

Her gaze returned to his. His eyes narrowed and his grin widened. She gripped the edge of sanity as a cacophony of humiliating thoughts battered through her psyche.

His hand continued its slow, excruciating journey up her thigh. Part of her wanted to stop him. Part of her wanted to scream 'no', but her legs began to part for him of their own accord. Why was she doing this? Why was she letting him touch her? Her face burnt deeper with embarrassment as her body defied her mind. This wasn't like her. She was a good girl. She wasn't some ...
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