Read Online Dominated by the Librarian #2: ‘Surrender to Please Her’ (male submission erotica) by Tara Jones - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tara Jones
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children didn’t have a library card and they bought their books cheap online from large companies who didn’t pay tax.
I thought about sneaking up behind her and how much I wanted to wrap my arms around her warm, soft body and nuzzle her red hair, while pressing my body against her. She wore her hair up today and had it fasten in one of those complicated buns and it made her look like a combination of a strict old fashionable teacher and an odd cousin to Alice in Wonderland.
The last time I had tried to touch her hair, she had almost had my shoulder dislocated, so I decided against any surprise welcoming hugs. Granted, the sex that had followed had been amazing, so it had almost been worth it... And it had been kind of exciting to been held down too, I thought and then frown at the thought. Seriously, I’m not that kind of guy. But you needed to be either a eunuch or dead not to get turned on by being pressed down by a woman who looked liked she had just stepped out from a pinup calendar from the fifties.
Just the thought of the sensation of her curvy thigh against my back, her breast brushing against me, and her hands around my wrists in a tight and non-compromising grip as she touched me made me hard. I was suddenly quite grateful that there was a counter in between us.
Besides, I wasn’t completely sure of if she would be happy to see me again or not.
And there was also the possibility that she would probably be all devastated and embarrassed over that she let things get out of hand. She didn’t look like the kind of girl who took command or who gave herself completely over to lust and even stroke her own breasts when she got excited. She seemed like a proper good girl, the type who had always made her homework in time and who always won awards for best selling the most cakes at the Brownie Girls as a child.
Ah, well. “Still waters run deep” and all that. And to be honest, I think the combination of good girl gone bad made her even more interesting and sexy. It was a little bit like if the sweet girl from church would ask you if you wanted to join her and her twin sister in a threesome, somehow. Well, not like that, perhaps, because that only happened in trashy novels or lame porn movies. But you know what I mean.
But there is no need to get arrested for sexual harassment or to scare her away, I concluded.
The evening was, after all, still young.
So instead, I assumed a carefully casual position, leaning against the counter. I tried not to look too much at her curvy legs and nicely rounded bottom.
Why someone who had a body that would have made Anita Ekberg cry of envy and run away in shame decided to dress in a dull Burberry-checkered tweed suits for women and knee-length skirts was a mystery to me. What is an even larger mystery is really is why it’s so sexy on her, I mused silently, unable to tear my eyes from her attractive legs.
I used to prefer long and slender legs, but there was something about the generous contours of her ankles and the fact that her skirt wasn’t short and tarty, but left something to the imagination that turned me on.
Clearly I must have been traumatized at some time during my childhood, I pondered thoughtfully. Perhaps a primary teacher had taken liberties?
I was just about to decide if I should clear my throat or pretend to cough to get her attention, when she turned around and face me.
She must have heard me enter the library, I thought, because she didn’t seem at all surprised over my presence.
“Well, well, well,” she said that slightly sultry voice of hers that sent shivers down my spine for no reason at all. “If it isn’t Peter Thompson. I was wondering if you’d dare to come back or not.”
Ah. So, she is clearly not going to pretend that the last time I was here it ended with that she more or less ravished me, I concluded and stifled the urge to swallow hard.
“Of course I dared to come back,” I said instead in a confident voice and smiled my
I thought about sneaking up behind her and how much I wanted to wrap my arms around her warm, soft body and nuzzle her red hair, while pressing my body against her. She wore her hair up today and had it fasten in one of those complicated buns and it made her look like a combination of a strict old fashionable teacher and an odd cousin to Alice in Wonderland.
The last time I had tried to touch her hair, she had almost had my shoulder dislocated, so I decided against any surprise welcoming hugs. Granted, the sex that had followed had been amazing, so it had almost been worth it... And it had been kind of exciting to been held down too, I thought and then frown at the thought. Seriously, I’m not that kind of guy. But you needed to be either a eunuch or dead not to get turned on by being pressed down by a woman who looked liked she had just stepped out from a pinup calendar from the fifties.
Just the thought of the sensation of her curvy thigh against my back, her breast brushing against me, and her hands around my wrists in a tight and non-compromising grip as she touched me made me hard. I was suddenly quite grateful that there was a counter in between us.
Besides, I wasn’t completely sure of if she would be happy to see me again or not.
And there was also the possibility that she would probably be all devastated and embarrassed over that she let things get out of hand. She didn’t look like the kind of girl who took command or who gave herself completely over to lust and even stroke her own breasts when she got excited. She seemed like a proper good girl, the type who had always made her homework in time and who always won awards for best selling the most cakes at the Brownie Girls as a child.
Ah, well. “Still waters run deep” and all that. And to be honest, I think the combination of good girl gone bad made her even more interesting and sexy. It was a little bit like if the sweet girl from church would ask you if you wanted to join her and her twin sister in a threesome, somehow. Well, not like that, perhaps, because that only happened in trashy novels or lame porn movies. But you know what I mean.
But there is no need to get arrested for sexual harassment or to scare her away, I concluded.
The evening was, after all, still young.
So instead, I assumed a carefully casual position, leaning against the counter. I tried not to look too much at her curvy legs and nicely rounded bottom.
Why someone who had a body that would have made Anita Ekberg cry of envy and run away in shame decided to dress in a dull Burberry-checkered tweed suits for women and knee-length skirts was a mystery to me. What is an even larger mystery is really is why it’s so sexy on her, I mused silently, unable to tear my eyes from her attractive legs.
I used to prefer long and slender legs, but there was something about the generous contours of her ankles and the fact that her skirt wasn’t short and tarty, but left something to the imagination that turned me on.
Clearly I must have been traumatized at some time during my childhood, I pondered thoughtfully. Perhaps a primary teacher had taken liberties?
I was just about to decide if I should clear my throat or pretend to cough to get her attention, when she turned around and face me.
She must have heard me enter the library, I thought, because she didn’t seem at all surprised over my presence.
“Well, well, well,” she said that slightly sultry voice of hers that sent shivers down my spine for no reason at all. “If it isn’t Peter Thompson. I was wondering if you’d dare to come back or not.”
Ah. So, she is clearly not going to pretend that the last time I was here it ended with that she more or less ravished me, I concluded and stifled the urge to swallow hard.
“Of course I dared to come back,” I said instead in a confident voice and smiled my
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