"Some fantasies don't need permission. They just need a quiet place and a locked door."
The city library was nearly empty that afternoon. A dull Tuesday rain kept most people indoors, and the few who wandered in were far from the Erotica section on the second floor. Chloe liked it this way quiet, almost sacred. She called it her "mental retreat," but secretly, it was more than that.
She traced her fingers over a familiar title Delta of Venus when a shadow shifted beside her.
"I was hoping you'd be here again."
Chloe turned. It was him.
Alex.
Tall, rugged in that undone, bookish way. Unapologetically curious eyes. The same man who, last week, had read a passage from her private notebook aloud and left her trembling inside.
Today, he wore a dark sweater that clung to his arms and the scent of cedarwood. Her breath caught.
"I didn't expect you," she said, surprised by the thrum of excitement in her voice.
He gave a slow smile. "I've been thinking about that story you read me. The one about the man who touched her like he was praying."
Her cheeks flushed. She hadn't written anything since then. She couldn't. Not when every sentence felt like it begged for him.
"I brought something," he said, slipping a folded paper from his pocket.
It was a short story, handwritten in neat block letters.
"Librarian Lust." The opening line read: She thought she came here for peace, but the stranger between the shelves had other plans.
She looked up. "You wrote this?"
"I got inspired," he said with a smirk.
Her pulse quickened as she scanned a few lines he'd written a fantasy about her. A woman in a library. Being touched where no one could see. Tasted, bent over a quiet table, one hand covering her mouth so her moans wouldn't echo off the bookshelves.
"Is this a challenge?" she whispered.
"It's an invitation."
A quiet beat passed. Then she asked, "Are you just going to write it or do you want to live it?"
His eyes darkened. "There's a study room in the back. Rarely used. I may have unlocked it earlier."
Her body was already responding curiosity, arousal, adrenaline. She slipped the paper into her bag and followed him without a word.
They walked quietly, past shelves of Brontë, Nabokov, and forbidden fantasies. The room was tucked away behind a row of art books. Alex opened the door, letting her step in first.
The moment it shut behind them, silence wrapped around them like a secret.
It started with a kiss.
Soft at first then urgent.
His hands slid into her hair as hers grabbed his sweater. She wasn't thinking. She didn't want to think. She just wanted to feel. Be devoured.
Alex backed her into the heavy table in the center of the room, never breaking the kiss. She gasped when his hands found her waist, lifted her slightly, and set her on the cool wood.
Her legs parted instinctively. He stepped between them.
"I keep thinking about that line you wrote," he murmured against her lips. "About touching like prayer."
Chloe pulled him back into the kiss. "Then worship me."
That was all it took.
He dropped to his knees right there, between her thighs. Slowly, he pulled her skirt up, kissing the insides of her thighs, teasing, tasting, breathing her in. She whimpered when his tongue finally met her; slow, deep, and utterly reverent.
Her fingers gripped the edge of the table, back arched. The idea of being eaten out in a public library, door unlocked, anyone could walk in it sent a thrill through her spine she'd never known before.
"Alex fuck!" she breathed.
He didn't stop. He worshipped her just like her story. Tongue circling, pressing, tasting until her thighs shook and her hand flew to her mouth to muffle the sounds spilling from her lips.
She came hard. Quiet but shattering. Her body pulsed, trembling against his face.
When he rose, she saw her arousal glistening on his lips. He didn't wipe it away.
"You taste like something I could get addicted to," he said.
She pulled him close, desperate. She wanted him inside her now.
"Condom?" she asked, breathless.
He reached into his wallet and held one up.
Seconds later, she was bent over the table, chest against the smooth wood, skirt still hiked up, panties long forgotten. She felt the press of him hot, thick, and ready.
When he slid into her, she gasped, clenching around him. He moved slowly at first, drawing it out, making her feel every inch. Her fingers scratched the surface of the table. She bit her lip to keep from moaning too loudly.
He grabbed her hips and thrust deeper, harder. She pressed her face into her arms, hips rocking back to meet him.
Books could fall. The world could burn.
She didn't care.
This wasn't fantasy anymore, it was the real thing.
Forbidden. Public. Messy. Beautiful.
She came again silently, violently. Her body rippling around him.
Alex wasn't far behind. He groaned, low and broken, as he spilled into the condom, his hands digging into her hips.
They collapsed together on the table, sweaty, breathless, laughing in disbelief.
"Holy shit," she said, turning to face him. "Did we really just do that?"
He tucked her hair behind her ear. "I think we just wrote a new chapter."
She fixed her clothes while he tied the condom and slid it into a wrapper from her notebook. "A souvenir," he teased.
She rolled her eyes. "You're insane."
"Maybe," he said. "But you came here to fantasize. I just helped make it real."
As they stepped back into the aisle, no one even looked their way. The silence of the library had never felt more delicious.