Page 159 of Librarian

The top has long sleeves, but it’s soft. Strokable. The fabric is so luxurious it may as well be screaming, ‘touch me’. It’s still a professional outfit, but the way it conforms to my curves makes it sinful.

Thankfully, the red marks from the wax they used on Friday night are long since gone, but there’s a love bite on my neck from last night that I carefully cover with a cosmetic ensorcellment.

Jasper sinks to one knee, the first boot already unlaced and waiting. I have to grip his hair to keep my balance, and he looks up at me with his pupils blown wide.

I slip my foot into the boot, then rest it against his chest.

He makes a noise of satisfaction, or perhaps it’s torment, deep in his throat.

The amount of care he puts into the lacing makes my heart melt even as my core weeps.

Then I swap to the other foot, and he gives it the same careful attention.

I expect him to stand once he’s finished, but he stays on his knees. “Please, Mistress.” He doesn’t look up. “Please let me out. I—fuck. The pressure is driving me mad.”

I drop to a crouch, the skirt forcing me to keep my knees together, making the action racier than it needs to be as I reach out and cup his cage through the thick fabric of his jeans.

Jasper hisses out a breath as I rub up and down, then slip my hand under the waistband and stroke the velvet skin of him through the cage. My fingers travel lower, cupping his balls gently. His hips buck, trying to get more of my touch.

“No.”

My one word stills him, and he groans under his breath as I draw back.

“You’re trying tae kill me,” he complains, pressing his face into my thigh as I stand. “I kinda love it, though.”

I chuckle under my breath. “If you’re good, I have plans for you when all of this is over…” I pause, thinking of the strap-on currently hiding in one of the drawers. “Depending on what you’re up for.”

“Anything.”

That one word drips with sincerity.

He’s too sweet. I bend to kiss him. “Later. First…I have an Arcanaeum to break.”

If it feelswrongto say the words, then it’s a hundred times worse when I cast the spell to create a huge crack through the wainscotting in the foyer.

For the last few days, I’ve been keeping the damage minimal. A handful of doors that squeak when they’re opened, rickety tables and tatty rugs scattered about the place.

Now it’s time to up the ante.

Jasper sticks close, lending me his strength to lean against when I have to break the marble columns of the Rotunda.

“This is horrible,” I mumble, putting the dagger on my desk.

I’ve started keeping it out of the holster on my thigh when I need to open or close. Otherwise, Jasper has to waste his time and magic healing me. Even pre-emptively funnelling my own power towards the blade doesn’t stop it.

I check the clock and sigh. Three minutes until opening.

“It’s only temporary,” he reassures me, even as Dakari strides through the doors.

The Talcott parriarch—stars, it's still strange to think of him with that title—has made it a point to be with me every single morning at opening time. I offer him a sad but grateful smile and a kiss as he comes to stand on my other side.

“Ready?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I know this was my plan, but it feels wrong to open in such a state.”

He takes my hand, stroking it. “Take the day off. You still have more of that document to read.”

Ugh, the document. Just thinking of it makes me want to scream.