The Old Library

The books fell from the shelves as he slammed her back into them forcefully. His fingers gripped the sides of her head, pulling into her hair as he yanked her forward towards his waiting lips. She was ready with gasping breaths, taken aback by his sudden action. She did not wait a moment to force his lips open and accost her tongue to his. He could feel his inner heat rising. His breaths became ragged.

Her hands reached up to his hair, to feel the thick, curly dark masses that were on his head. He stifled a moan of pleasure, and she knew she had found a weakness. She tugged his head away from her lips, directing his mouth to the crook in her neck, which was also beginning to get hot.

He gently blew on her neck, causing her to shiver in the heat of the summer evening. The aged spines of Tolstoy and Hemingway looked down dispassionately upon them from the nearby encased book shelves, while the unlucky copies of Twain and Tennyson peered upward at the pair.

They had not spoken a word since he had dragged her into his uncle's precious library. It was a place of hallowed ground for him, and for his uncle. Within this library, ancient copies of documents were no doubt stashed behind the trick shelves, while still old and rare copies of classics found repose alongside one another.

He remembered the library from days of old, his uncle admonishing him not to touch certain sections, to stay off the ladder, to keep the curtains shut to keep out the light. But this was foreign ground; to besmirch the names of these authors, to taint their very air with the lust that was running rampant in the room at this very moment. The two lovers had not a care in the world when the books fell, but were careful to be quiet. To be caught would have been the end of them.

She loved this room, more than any space within the whole mansion. When she had come here to care for an old man, she never believed that the nephew he talked so horribly about would become such an excellent friend, and now apparently, a lover. For that is where this duo was headed. They slid down the bookshelf nearest into a steaming pile upon the floor. The ornate rug padded their fall as well as their sound.

He suddenly stopped the kissing of the neck and got up. She looked at him in wonder, but realized what he was doing as he turned on the record player; a little soft music to enhance their love making, but also to drown out the certain noises that would emanate from the room.

As Beethoven began to symphonize their lusty ears, he saw her laying there, in her soft sun dress that had haphazardly landed at mid thigh and stared. She stared back, a hard stare, an 'I dare you' stare.

Their eyes did not lose contact as he slowly walked toward her, slowly unbuttoning his loose cotton shirt as he did so. She moved to a sitting position, her hands supporting her behind her back, heels on the floor, close to her buttocks. Her legs were spread, inviting him to come closer. He removed his shirt and sat down next to her. The stench of sweat was strong, but the dust from the fallen books around them, almost tangible. She coughed. He looked into her eyes, and ran his hand up her high. She shivered, again, but it was a slow delicious shiver that only can happen when a man touches a woman just right. She smirked daringly at him. It was evident he found her ready as an audible noise was made when he slid his fingers into her. Their eyes were parted for a moment as she closed them and muffled a gasp. With her hand still behind her back, she used her arms as leverage to move around and feel his fingers more inside of her. They kissed, his hand forcing more inside of her and their tongues mimicking the action that was going on down below.

Removing his hands from her loins, he moved her dress up to her waist, and then up over her head, revealing nothing on underneath. He again blew on her neck, sitting very close next to her. She arched back, head thrown back and he found her closest nipple in his mouth. Her legs spread farther still, as if unconsciously beckoning for something to come between them.

To be continued...