Page 22 of Puck Tease
“Get to work,” he mouthed, his eyes already on his screen.
I pulled out my laptop, my fingers fumbling with the lid. I opened the Macroeconomics PDF. Supply curves. Elasticity. Market equilibrium. The words swam on the screen, blurringinto an incomprehensible jumble. I couldn’t focus. All I could feel was the foreign object stretching me open, a constant, dull throb that pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat. My attention was split, one part attempting to decipher economic theory, the other consumed by the internal invasion.
Ten minutes crawled by.
A faint hope began to stir. I was starting to settle, the sharp edges of the discomfort dulling into a heavy, constant ache. I typed a few hesitant notes. Maybe, just maybe, I could get through this.
Then, my phone buzzed on the table.
My gaze snapped to it. A text from Jax.
Jax:You look tense.
I looked up. Jax wasn't looking at me. His head was bowed, his eyes on his phone, which he held subtly beneath the table, hidden from casual view.
I ignored it, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I tried to resume typing.
Buzz.
Jax:Need to loosen you up.
A frown creased my brow. I looked at him again. His head tilted up, his eyes met mine, and a slow, deliberate wink passed between us.
Then he tapped his screen.
BZZZZZT.
My entire body jolted, a violent tremor shaking me. My knees slammed into the underside of the table with a loud, resounding thud.
The profound silence of the library interrupted. Three heads at the next table snapped up, their expressions annoyed, their gazes sharp with irritation.
I froze, rigid in my chair, my muscles locked.
The plug. It was vibrating.
It wasn't a gentle purr. It was a low, angry buzz that resonated deep inside my rectum, a wild, insistent thrumming. It vibrated directly against my prostate, sending a shockwave of sensation, hot and electric, straight to my dick.
His thumb jabbed the screen on his phone, flipping the vibrator's patterns like he owned every twitch in my body. First the pulsating throb that pulsed deep inside me, making my hole clench and release in desperate rhythm, sweat breaking out across my back. Then the escalating build, intensity ratcheting up notch by notch until my cock leaked steady precum and my thighs shook. But the wave pattern—fuck, that rolling surge crashing through me in endless loops—nearly ruined my control, body arching off the seat, breath ragged, every nerve screaming.
My hands clamped onto the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white, digging into the polished wood. My eyes, wide with panic, were fixed on Jax.
He wasn’t looking at me. He was still looking at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen, a small, cruel smile playing on his lips.
The vibration stopped.
Air rushed back into my burning lungs. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum.
Buzz. (The phone).
Jax:Testing the connection. Works good.
My fingers, shaking so badly I could barely aim, typed out a reply.
Me:Turn it off. People will hear.
Jax:It’s whisper quiet. Unless you make a noise.
He tapped the screen again.
