Page 59 of Librarian

So why is the air suddenly warmer than it was when we got here? Why are my breasts heaving on a shaky inhale?

His hands fist by his sides, like he’s interpreted my hesitation as rejection.

It’s only when he turns away, and disappointment hits me, that I reach out and grab his arm.

That contact is all it takes.

Our mouths fuse together as we collide hard enough to knock the breath from our lungs. Pierce drags me against him. One of his hands cups the back of my neck, and the other pressesagainst my lower spine, holding us together so I can feel the ridge of his erection caught between our bodies.

My fingers weave into his hair as his tongue sweeps out, tasting me. Addictive and arrogant in equal measure. I’m being kissed like he owns me, so I kiss him back the same way. The scent of him, of that expensive cologne that I like more than I’ll ever admit, wraps around me in a sensual fog.

Every single sense is consumed by him.

My right hand leaves his hair, falling towards the handle behind him. I want him, and I’ve waited long enough. The door swings open, and Pierce lifts me before we can tumble through it.

My legs wrap around his waist, but he turns to his left instead of heading for the bed at the back of the room, depositing me on top of…a baby grand piano?

It barely fits in his bedroom. Did he conjure it for himself?

The lid is shut, and I brace myself against the smooth surface as he spreads my legs wider, settling himself between them as he continues to devour me. My feet bash against the keys, producing an awful racket that reverberates through the instrument beneath me.

I don’t care.

His lips make their way down to the hollow at the base of my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake as his tongue darts out. I want him to taste me everywhere. I want to taste him too, but the collar of his shirt is in my way.

My fingers fumble at his jacket, shoving it down his arms. Stars, why does he always wear a tie? I loosen it but leave it in place, heading for the buttons of his shirt. I want skin. My fingers shake, body trembling with impatience.

Pierce and I have danced around this for too long. Now everything is bubbling over. He rips my jumper over my head. My heels dig into his ass. His mouth follows his fingers as theywork a frantic path down the buttons of my blouse, stopping when he finds my corset.

I expect him to step back, or get confused, but he just buries his face in the upper slopes of my breasts, nipping and sucking and biting until the flesh is oversensitive. I abandon my attempts to undo his buttons and clutch his shoulders for dear life.

“Next time, you’re taking this off,” he orders against my skin.

“Next time,” I promise on a gasp.

Once we’ve fucked this urgency out of our systems.

My pussy aches, arousal dripping from me. It only gets worse as his hands find the hem of my skirt, shoving it up and out of the way. Our eyes lock as he lifts his head, and in my peripheral vision, I notice something.

The door is still open.

Not cracked. Wide. Open.

Pierce notices the direction of my gaze, and his fingers grip my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “You checked the box. Have you changed your mind?”

I know exactly which one he’s talking about. Public sex.

This isn’t public. It’s a private bedroom connected to a hallway exclusively used by me and the heirs. Most of them have seen me in equally scandalous situations at one point or another.

And yet the risk of discovery is still there, the thrill of it twirling in my abdomen alongside the pulsing heat of my own need until I can’t distinguish one from the other.

“Keep going.”

Pierce takes me at my word, releasing my face and shoving aside fabric until my sex is on open display to him and anyone walking past. He drags the stool out from beneath the piano, settling in, and then grips my inner thighs, holding me open so he can see every inch. The move makes my feet skid across the keys, drawing more protesting clangs from the instrument, but neither of us notices.

His pupils are blown as he traces two fingers down my slit, sinking them into my pussy with a curse.

“Drenched,” he murmurs in a silky whisper against my inner thigh, pressing his lips there. “You were more than just curious. You like me, Librarian, admit it.”