Late Night Lesson

She hated how easily he could make her feel weak.
When she first met him in the city library, she thought he was shy — all glasses and gentle smiles behind stacks of old books. But that night, when he knocked on her door at midnight, he wasn’t shy at all.

She let him in without a word — already half undressed in her thin silk robe. He barely looked at her face before pressing her against the hallway wall. The books he brought clattered to the floor, forgotten, as his mouth found her neck — warm lips trailing down to the swell of her breasts.

“You left me waiting all week,” he growled softly, voice dark and low in her ear. His fingers pulled the robe apart like tissue — palms rough on the softness beneath.
She gasped when his teeth grazed her collarbone. He lifted her easily, pinning her thighs around his waist. She could feel him already — hard, demanding — pressing right where she needed him most.

“Say please,” he whispered, teasing her. She tried to move her hips but he held her still, nails digging delicious crescents into her thighs.
“Please,” she breathed, not caring how desperate she sounded.

He carried her to the kitchen table, shoving aside a pile of unopened mail and coffee mugs. He laid her back across the cold wood, spread her legs wide and kissed a path down her belly — slow enough to drive her insane.
When his tongue finally slid lower, she bit her knuckle to keep from crying out. But he wanted to hear her — so he pulled her hand away, pinning her wrist above her head while his mouth worked its punishment between her thighs.

The table creaked under her as she bucked up into his mouth, every soft moan echoing off the dark kitchen walls. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she tugged his hair hard enough to pull him up.

“Now,” she begged — and that was all he needed. He stood, pushed inside her with one rough thrust that knocked the breath from her lungs. She clung to him, half laughing, half cursing, as he pounded her into the table — the edge digging into her back, the heat of him filling her over and over until she lost track of where she ended and he began.

When it was done, he pulled her close, kissed her forehead like an apology — then whispered, “Same time next week?”
She could only nod, legs trembling, wanting him again already.

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