The quiet hum of the library felt almost sacred — rows of aged books, untouched corners, and dust dancing in slivers of morning light.
But in the hidden aisle, behind tall stacks of reference journals, sacred was the last thing happening.
Conidia was on her knees, her glasses slightly fogged, her curls clinging to her flushed cheeks. Her blouse was shoved up, her bra completely unhooked, and her hands pressed her breasts together — soft flesh rising and falling as she panted.
Kayson stood above her, pants around his thighs, thick cock sliding between her breasts, slick from spit and pre-cum.
"Tighter," he growled, thrusting faster now, his hands gripping her shoulders like anchors.
She moaned, tongue flicking out to catch him when he came close enough, the tip brushing her lips as he drove himself harder between her cleavage.
"Look at you," he hissed. "My top student. Filthy little wife. On her knees for her professor."
She whimpered — eyes glossy, tongue out, and thighs pressed together beneath her skirt.
"You love this," he said through gritted teeth, leaning over, one hand tangling in her hair. "Getting used like a fucktoy in a place meant for silence."
Suddenly, a sharp gasp broke the moment.
Both of them froze.
At the end of the aisle, barely five feet away, stood a junior assistant — a boy no older than twenty, holding a stack of books, eyes wide in shock.
Time slowed.
Kayson's hand twitched at his side, ready to pull back, to zip up, to fix everything—
But Conidia... didn't flinch.
She turned her head slowly toward the stunned assistant — face flushed, mouth wet, tongue still peeking out between swollen lips.
And she smiled.
No, not smiled — smirked.
Her hips shifted, subtly grinding against her knees. Her eyes locked onto his, full of wicked heat.
She tilted her head and gave a low, sultry moan — exaggerated — and then licked a line across her palm before returning it to her breasts.
The assistant stuttered a half-formed apology, dropped one of the books, and stumbled away like he'd seen a ghost — or a goddess.
Kayson stared down at her, eyes dark with disbelief and raw hunger.
"You little slut," he whispered. "You wanted him to see."
"I want everyone to know I'm yours," she whispered back, dragging her tongue slowly across his tip, "but only you get to do this to me."
He lost it.
One hand shoved her down, the other fisting in her hair as he thrust between her breasts, using her, growling her name like a prayer that had turned into a curse.
The library would never feel like a quiet place again.