Chapter 2: The bookshelves shake violently as Will drives into Maggie from behind, his hands gripping her plump hips hard enough to bruise while she bites down on a leather-bound anthology to stifle her screams.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, the humid air thick with the scent of sex and old paper. Will’s weight was a warm, heavy comfort against her back, his forehead resting between her shoulder blades. Maggie’s arms trembled, her grip on the counter’s edge the only thing keeping her upright. The world swam back into focus in dizzying increments: the scattered buttons from her blouse glinting on the floor, the toppled stack of books, the cool wood against her flushed cheek.
Slowly, he pulled out, the loss of him a sudden, aching emptiness. A shudder wracked her body. He turned her around, his hands gentle now on her hips, his eyes searching hers. The fierce hunger was gone, replaced by a dazed, vulnerable warmth.
“Maggie,” he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips.
She couldn’t speak. She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, rough with stubble. He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. The tenderness was a shock after the raw possession, and it undid her completely. A single tear escaped, tracing a hot path down her temple.
He saw it. His thumb brushed it away. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, a sob catching in her throat. “No. God, no. It was….”
“I know,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. His heart hammered against her ear, a wild, frantic rhythm slowly settling into a steady, strong beat. They stood like that for a long time, wrapped in the silence and the shocking new reality of their nakedness.
Then his hands began to move again, stroking her back, her arms, as if relearning her shape. The embers, banked but not dead, flared back to life.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he muttered into her hair, his voice thick. His hands slid down to her ass, squeezing, pulling her flush against the hard ridge already reforming in his jeans. “I need to be inside you again. Now.”
A fresh wave of desire, hot and liquid, pooled in her belly. She nodded, her own hands fumbling for his belt buckle. “Yes. Please.”
He didn’t lead her to the back room or the worn armchair. He backed her up, step by step, until the shelves of the fiction section dug into her spine. The books were a precarious wall behind her, their spines pressing into her bare skin. He hiked her skirt up around her waist, his knuckles brushing against the damp thatch of curls between her legs.
“Fuck, you’re still so wet for me,” he groaned, his eyes darkening with renewed lust. He unzipped his jeans, freeing his cock, which was already thick and rigid. He spat into his hand, slicking himself roughly. “Look at me.”
She did. Her eyes locked with his as he positioned himself. He hooked one of her legs over his hip, opening her up to him. The head of his cock pressed against her swollen, sensitive entrance.
“This time, you take me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “Show me how much you want it.”
She braced her hands against the shelves behind her, her fingers digging into the book spines. With a desperate, hungry cry, she rocked her hips forward, impaling herself on him in one fluid, breathtaking motion. He was so deep, so impossibly full. A sharp, guttural moan tore from his throat.
“That’s it, baby. Just like that,” he gritted out, his hands gripping her thighs, holding her steady as she began to move.
It was a frantic, fumbling dance. Her rhythm was clumsy, driven by pure need. Each time she sank down onto him, a stack of paperbacks would wobble and tumble from the shelf, hitting the floor with soft, percussive thuds. The sound was a counterpoint to the wet, slapping noise of their bodies joining, again and again. The scent of their mingled sweat filled the air, musky and primal.
He watched her, his gaze burning with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he rasped. “All mine. Messy and desperate and mine.”
His words ignited her. She moved faster, riding him with a savage grace, her head thrown back, her curls sticking to her damp neck. The pleasure was a coiling, white-hot wire inside her, tightening with every thrust. She could feel the orgasm building, a tidal wave gathering force.
“Will, I’m gonna come,” she panted, her movements becoming erratic.
“Not yet,” he growled. He suddenly spun them around, pinning her front-first against the shelves. Books cascaded around them, a waterfall of fallen stories. He drove into her from behind, his pace brutal, relentless. One hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back. The other hand slid around her hip, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing rough, frantic circles.
The dual sensation was too much. The world shattered.
She came with a raw, screaming cry, her body convulsing around him, milking him, pulling a guttural roar from his lungs as he followed her over the edge, his own release pumping into her in hot, pulsing jets.
They collapsed together in a heap on the floor, surrounded by the scattered literature. Their bodies were slick with sweat, tangled in each other and her bunched-up skirt. For a long time, the only sound was their gasping breaths and the faint rustle of pages settling.
Will shifted first, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at her. He brushed a curl from her forehead, his touch impossibly gentle. The silence stretched, filled with the weight of what they had done. Twice.
“So,” he said, his voice hoarse. “That happened.”
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in Maggie’s throat. She swatted his arm weakly. “You think?”
He didn’t smile. His expression was serious, his hazel eyes searching hers. “I meant what I said. You’re mine.” He paused, the words hanging in the air between them. “If you’ll have me.”
The vulnerability in his voice was her undoing. All the years of secret longing, the fear, the fantasy—it all crystallized into this single, terrifying, exhilarating moment.
She reached up, cupping his cheek. “I’ve always been yours, Will. I was just waiting for you to notice.”
The relief that washed over his face was a tangible thing. He leaned down and kissed her, a slow, deep, claiming kiss that tasted of salt and promise. When he pulled away, he gestured at the carnage around them—the overturned books, their discarded clothes.
“We should probably clean this up before someone sees,” he said, a slow grin finally spreading across his face.
Maggie looked at the mess, then back at him, a matching smile blooming on her own lips. “Let them see.”
“Let them see.” Maggie’s voice was a husky whisper, defiance glittering in her eyes as she gazed at the chaotic swirl of fallen books around them. Will’s grin widened, a slow, predatory thing that sent a fresh thrill straight to her core. He leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was less about tenderness and more about pure, unadulterated possession.
His hand slid from her cheek down to her throat, not tightening, just holding, a silent claim that made her pulse hammer against his palm. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Mourkas,” he murmured against her lips, his other hand already roaming under her rumpled skirt, finding her wet and ready again. “Can’t get enough of this fucking cunt.”
She arched into his touch, a low moan escaping as his fingers pushed inside her, mimicking the rough thrusts she craved. “Then don’t stop,” she gasped, her own hands fumbling for his belt, the leather cool against her feverish skin. The urgency was back, a live wire sparking between them, hotter and more desperate than before.
He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him so she straddled his hips. The worn floorboards were hard beneath her knees, but she barely noticed. Below her, his cock stood thick and eager, glistening in the dim light. “You’re in charge this time,” he said, his voice rough with want. “Show me what you need.”
Maggie positioned herself above him, one hand braced on his chest, the other guiding him to her entrance. She looked into his eyes, seeing her own wild desire reflected back at her. Taking a sharp breath, she sank down, taking every inch of him in one slow, devastating motion that made them both cry out.
HE ENTERS HER.