CRAVE: FORBIDDEN DESIRES

THE LIBRARY AFTER DARK Ava’s POV "Night, Jules," I said, watching her climb into the car. "You sure you don’t wanna come?" she asked, leaning out the window. "I'm good. Just wanna clear my head," I lied with a small smile. She shrugged. "Suit yourself. Don’t get locked in!" I waved as the car drove off, but I didn’t move right away. I just stood there in the cold, looking up at the massive building behind me. I’d been thinking about it all day. Or rather... someone in it. I pulled my hoodie tighter and walked back up. Everyone was gone, or nearly. The main lights were off. I didn’t really have a plan. I just... didn’t want to go home yet. My boots clicked softly as I walked between the shelves. I wasn’t looking for anything. That’s when I noticed the door. Tucked between two bookcases, half-hidden by a “Staff Only” sign. It wasn’t locked. My heart gave a little jump as I looked around. No one in sight. Maybe it was stupid, but curiosity got the better of me. I pushed it open. Inside was a smaller room. A lamp on a side table. The walls were lined with books. My eyes widened. Erotica. Shelf after shelf of it. Titles I recognized. Others I didn’t. Some looked old, Some were in foreign languages. I stepped further in, scanning the spines. My fingers landed on one: The Garden of Pleasure. I pulled it out. Flipped it open. I didn’t even sit down. Just stood there, flipping page after page, reading line after line. My breath got faster. My thighs pressed together. God, this was— “Interesting choice.” I froze. That voice. Low, deep, a little rough at the edges. I turned quickly—and there he was. Mr. Thorne. The head librarian. Tall. Always in a black button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbow, dark hair, sharp glasses. Every time I’d seen him, I’d had the same thought: I bet he’d ruin someone in bed. “I—I didn’t mean to,” I stammered. “The door wasn’t locked, and I didn’t know—” “It’s not off-limits,” he said, closing the door behind him. “Just... rarely visited.” He stepped closer. Not too close. Just enough to make my heart thud harder. “You like to read standing up?” he asked, nodding to the book still open in my hands. “I didn’t... plan to stay long.” “But you did stay.” He tilted his head, and his voice dropped even lower. “What part were you on?” My mouth went dry. “Um. The scene with the... the desk.” “Ah. The desk,” he said, a small smirk touching his lips. “That’s a popular one.” I swallowed. “I should probably go.” “You came back after hours. You walked past the closed sign. You found the private reading room.” His eyes stayed on mine. “And now you want to leave?” “I didn’t know you’d be here,” I whispered. “I’m always here,” he said. “And I’ve seen you before, Ava.” My breath caught. “You have?” “Always looking for the quiet corners. Always sneaking glances when you think I’m not watching.” My face flamed. “I wasn’t—” “It’s alright,” he said. “I watch you too.” He took a step forward. “Tell me. What kind of stories do you like?” “I don’t know.” “I think you do.” He nodded at the book still in my hands. “That one has three scenes marked with folded corners. Did you do that?” I stared at the book. “No... it was already like that.” “Hmm.” He reached out and gently took it from me. “This one's a bit intense. But you didn’t stop reading.” “No,” I whispered. “Good girl.” My stomach flipped. His eyes stayed on mine. “You like control?” I nodded before I could think. “Yes.” “Being told what to do?” “Yes.” “Being read to?” I blinked. “I’ve never tried that.” He smiled. “Would you let me?” I should’ve said no. I should’ve left. But I didn’t. I stepped back toward the armchair. He sat first, spreading his legs slightly. He motioned for me to sit on the armrest beside him. I obeyed. He opened the book. Flipped a few pages. “Ah. The mirror scene,” he murmured. “Another favorite.” I felt the heat pool low in my belly. He started reading. My thighs pressed tighter together. My breaths grew short. He glanced at me once. “You’re flushed.” “You’re... very good at this,” I breathed. He smiled again—slow, dark, knowing. “You haven’t even heard the best part yet.” And then he kept reading. My breath was uneven. My thighs ached from how tight I held them together. “Would you like me to stop, Ava?” His voice pulled me back. He hadn’t touched me. Not yet. But my body buzzed like he had. I shook my head. “No.” Mr. Thorne closed the book, his long fingers pressing against the cover. Then he looked at me. Really looked. “You’re very brave,” he said softly. “I don’t feel brave,” I whispered. “No?” He raised a brow. “You followed your curiosity. Came back here alone. Walked through a door marked Staff Only. Let me read to you while you squirmed in your seat.” I felt my cheeks burn. He leaned in a little, his voice lower. “You want more, don’t you?” God, I couldn’t breathe. “Yes.” His hand came up—not touching yet, but close enough that I could feel the heat of it just under my jaw. “I want to kiss you,” he said plainly. “Do I have your permission?” I nodded, heart pounding. “No. Say it.” “Yes. Please.” That was all it took. He kissed me. I whimpered into him, already wet. I’d dreamed about this. But in my dreams, it had never felt this intense. This real. When he finally pulled back, I was shaking. Mr. Thorne ran his thumb over my cheek, his tone lower now. “You want to give me control, Ava?” I blinked up at him. “Yes.” “You’re sure?” I nodded, breathless. “Yes. I want to.” “Then we do this properly.” He stood, towering over me. “Come here.” I got up slowly. My legs barely worked. He guided me to stand in front of him, his fingers grazing my waist. He brushed my hair from my eyes. “You’ll pick a safe word. If you say it, I stop. No questions.” I swallowed hard. “Okay.” “Something easy.” he said, lips twitching slightly. I smiled nervously. “Pineapple?” He chuckled. “That’ll do.” Then his tone changed again. “Take off your hoodie.” My hands moved before I could think. I peeled it off slowly, left in my thin tank top. I felt small under his gaze, but not in a bad way. He stepped behind me. “You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” His hands brushed my arms. “About bending over my desk. About me taking charge.” My breath hitched. “Yes.” He kissed the back of my neck, and I gasped. “I knew it. The way you stared when you thought I wasn’t looking.” His voice dropped to a near growl. “Do you know how hard it was not to act on it?” “No,” I whispered. He turned me to face him again. “I’ll show you.” Then he kissed me again—this time, deeper. His tongue brushed mine. When he broke the kiss, he gave me a look that made my knees weak. “I want to touch you,” he said. “But I need to hear you say it.” “Please touch me.” “Good girl.” His hands slid under my tank top, dragging it up and off. “You’re already shaking.” “I’ve never done anything like this,” I confessed. He smiled against my skin. “You’re doing just fine.” Then his hand cupped my breast, and I moaned, arching into him. My skin was on fire. He pinched gently—testing. I whimpered. “You like that?” he asked. “Yes.” “I like when you answer quickly.” “Sorry—yes, I do.” “Mmm,” he hummed. “Better.” His other hand slipped lower, over my jeans, pressing between my legs. My breath caught. “You’re soaked.” I turned red. “I told you... your voice does things to me.” That made him laugh, low and pleased. I whimpered again as he kissed down my collarbone. “I’m going to take you apart, piece by piece,” he murmured. “You’re mine now. Understood?” “Yes, Mr. Thorne.” His eyes flared when I said his name like that. “Oh, you really are a good girl.” I gasped as Mr. Thorne bent me over the table. His hands gripped my hips tight—bruising tight. “You’re going to take it,” he growled behind me. “Every inch.” Then he drove into me. I screamed—sharp, needy. He filled me so deep, the stretch made my toes curl. I was already dripping, aching, too turned on to care how loud I was. His hips slammed into mine. Fast. . I moaned into the desk, nails scratching the wood. Each thrust punched the breath out of me. He didn’t pause. My legs trembled. He held me up with his grip alone, one hand digging into my waist, the other spreading me wider. Slap. His palm came down on my ass, and I cried out, clenching around him. He groaned low. “God, you feel perfect,” he rasped. “So wet for me.” I could barely think. My mouth stayed open, drool pooling under my cheek. His c**k dragged along every nerve ending, hitting that spot that made me cry with each thrust. My thighs shook uncontrollably. Another slap. Harder. “Take it,” he muttered. “Take it like a good girl.” I was babbling. Nothing coherent. Just whimpers, yeses, his name. He f****d me harder. The desk creaked with every thrust. I could hear the slick sound of him driving into me, over and over. My orgasm was right there—painfully close. He leaned over me, chest against my back, hips never stopping. “Come,” he growled against my ear. “Now.” My body obeyed before my mind could. I shattered. He didn’t stop. f****d me through it. Made me take every stroke until I was a mess under him, moaning, twitching. Then he pulled out, flipped me. I gasped, dizzy. He lifted me onto the table, spread my legs wide, and pushed back in with a groan. My head fell back as he started again, deeper now. Filthy. Raw. His hand wrapped around my throat—just enough pressure to make me whimper. His mouth found my breast, teeth grazing before he bit down. I screamed. He sucked. Bit. Licked. Marked me everywhere. I clawed at his back, wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging like he was all I had. His pace faltered. “You want it inside?” he grunted. “Yes—yes—please—” “Beg.” “Please, Mr. Thorne. Fill me up. Come inside me. I want it—I want all of you—” He groaned deep in his chest. Then he slammed in once, twice— And came with a sharp growl. His body shook. Mine did too. We stayed like that for a moment. He finally pulled back, I blinked up at him. “I want more, Mr Thorne” He smiled and spent hour after hour making my p***y ruined for him.