The Librarian: Part 3 Explorations Commence. by horn pixy. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected. My tongue? she said, sounding a little squeaky. Yes, Emily. Slip it in my mouth. There was a moment of silence, and then she asked, why? I want to show you something delicious, he said, and instead of the pity he might have expected when he realized that she had never done this, he only felt a primal, primitive male pride to be the one to teach her, to show her. He felt her warm little tongue pressing hesitatingly against his lips and opened them, sucking it hard inside his mouth. Oh my, she gasped; or tried to, anyway; and he grinned a little in pure satisfaction. Good, huh? he asked after he let go. Uhm, she muttered. Want to do it again? Uhm, she managed again. He slanted his mouth over hers and lapped at her tongue again, this time drawing it into his mouth. He suckled, hard, and she made a small, helpless little sound as both his hands started kneading her ass, covered with the stiff material of new jeans. He pressed her body harder against the door frame, desperate to have more of her. The kiss became urgent, and he realized the exact moment she stopped worrying about what to do and just let her body react, because suddenly it was even more perfect; her lips moving with his, her tongue meeting and thrusting against his, tasting and feeling and exploring. The sounds they were generating were loud in the stillness of the hallway; her moans, his groans, her sighs, his murmurs. Her accelerated breathing, his satisfied growls when she tested and tried something new, something that worked. They kept at it for a few more minutes; it might have been hours for, all he knew; and he dragged one hand up and into her hair. Ouch, she gasped, and the fog lifted a little from his brain, enough to clear his mind for a few seconds, enough to make him realize that he was mauling her in the hallway. What? he asked, and this time he was the one who felt dazed. Nothing, she said quickly. Just my head, against the doorframe. Please, continue with what you were doing. Don t let me interrupt you He laughed a little and pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed tightly as he tried to get a grip over his hormones. His cock was rock-hard by now, straining against the fly of his jeans. He wanted her so badly, wanted to sink into the softness that was Emily, the gentleness of her embrace. Wanted to teach her everything he knew about lovemaking, demonstrating over and over until she knew exactly what was the best way to fit tab B into slot A. But she was new, and innocent, and as appealing as the idea was, the small part of his mind that was still capable of rational thought knew that taking her right now, braced against the doorway was not only incredibly stupid (due to the whole public aspect of the milieu) but also extremely selfish. She deserved to be taken slowly, gently, preferably with somebody who would take the time to show her everything she needed to know. And also, a bed would be nice. Just give me a minute, he said, taking deep breaths. No! No, no, no! Don t take a minute; you re going to change your mind if you do! He laughed again. Not bloody likely, he said. Just; just hold on a bit, okay? Okay, she murmured, circling her arms around his body and leaning against him. Her soft hair tickled his chin as she tucked her head in the crook of his neck. He pulled her inside the apartment and closed the door behind them, almost stepping on her glasses in the process. He picked them up and put them on a little table in the corner, and then turned to look at her. She was standing with her hands folded in front of her, head bent down so that he couldn t see her face. She was radiating shyness, and uncertainty, and just a little bit rejection. Tenderness swirled in him again and he stepped closer to her, allowing himself one swift, hard kiss. Look at me, he said. She lifted her head slowly and he smiled at her. You re beautiful, he said. don t even think of arguing with me, not even in your mind. Especially not in your mind. I won t have anybody, least of all you, think otherwise. I won t put up with that. You are lovely, and I want you so much it aches. But I want to do what s right. What would that be? she whispered, and he cupped her neck, his thumb playing in the hollow of her throat. I don t know, he admitted ruefully. Right now I just want to take you to bed, so my judgement is a little cloudy. Do it, she said. Please, Brandon. Take me to bed. I m so tired of wondering, of not knowing what sex is like. I want; I want to know, and I want to learn. She was quiet for a second. I want to feel. He searched her eyes. Your first time should be with somebody special, he objected, knowing that he wouldn t leave unless she asked him to. Knowing exactly what would happen if he stayed. His beautiful, shy little librarian was about to ask him to make love to her, and he was powerless to deny her anything, least of all what she was offering. He was human, and male, after all. Emily looked at him with her heart in his eyes. You are special, she said after a few seconds. You make me feel wanted. Wanton. You make me want to take you to the library and do something in the non-fiction section where nobody ever goes. He laughed, a raw sound that was being torn from him as his throat closed up. Had he really thought she would be unresponsive and boring? You have to be sure, he said. I m not doing this if you re not sure. I was sure the first time I saw you. I didn t know what to say except, a glass of whiskey, please . I ve never seen a woman drink whiskey like you did before, he said with a little smile. You just sat there, sipping glass after glass of Jameson without making a face, though I m pretty sure you thought it was disgusting. I hated it, she admitted. But I didn t know what else to order, and I was too shy to ask your advice. He made a vow to himself to take her back to the bar one evening and let her have a sip of every single drink he had in stock, until she found something she likes. And then he would mix some cocktails, and teach her about shaken and stirred, and she would never have to drink whiskey alone in a bar again. He kissed her then, a sweet kiss that wasn t about passion as much as compassion. He had feelings for her. They were undeveloped yet, but he wasn't about to deny their existence like some footloose bachelor, afraid of commitment. He didn t know if it was the right thing, making love to her without giving her the chance to get to know him better, but he knew that he could no more let her go right now than he could cut off his own arm. So he stroked her hair, marveling at the silky feel as his lips taught her a few more secrets and his tongue tasted her again. He slid the strands through his fingers and pulled her head back to taste the skin on her neck. She tipped her head willingly, giving him better access. He teased her earlobe, nibbling lightly and flicking it with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. The silver hoop she was wearing was in his way, so he used his fingers to get rid of it. He tickled the sensitive area behind her earlobe and tasted the dryness of perfume she had dabbed there. It was bitter, and though it smelled like heaven, he wanted to taste Emily, so he traced a line down her neck and across her collarbone, following the line of an imaginary necklace with his tongue, until the last of the perfume had rubbed off on her skin and all he could taste was Emily. Sweet and unique and still a little bit scared. He explored the hollow between her collarbones, taking his time over it. Her skin was like satin; smooth, silky, and so completely feminine. She moaned, a small sound in the back of her throat as she leaned helplessly against him, her hands around his head and her fingers tangled in his hair. She pulled at his head and he went willingly back to her mouth, to kiss and taste and take. He was never going to get enough of her mouth, he though as he toyed with her lips and let her do the same to him. She stepped away for a second and crossed her arms in front of her, pulling her sweater over her head in one smooth move. Brandon felt his breath catch in her throat when she stood in front of him in only her thin white chemise-like top and a lacy white bra that pushed her boobs together in the most perfect way imaginable. He stopped her hands when she wanted to take the top off and slid his hands over her body reverently. She was so warm, but despite the heat in the room her nipples were hard, beaded little nubs, straining against the honeyed fabric of her thin top. He pulled one strap over her shoulder and tasted the skin he unveiled before reaching down and getting rid of the blasted thing completely. And then his hands were in the skin of her softly rounded, perfectly proportioned hips, and her skin was softer and smoother than the silk of the top that had fluttered to the ground and was now lying there, like a pool of sex, on the floor. Brandon looked her in the eyes, and she gazed back unflinchingly, despite the blush that stained her cheeks a delicious shade of pink. Her tits were spilling a little over the lace edge of her bra, something that the designer had undoubtedly taken great pains to accomplish. It was like... froth, he decided as he traced the edge of the material. Or the white foam on top of a wave as it rolled to shore. He reached behind her, holding her gaze as he undid the clasp of her bra, the movement bringing their bodies together. She made a small sound when he stepped back deliberately and let the bra join the other clothes on the floor. You are so lovely, he said, gazing at her body. She was so completely female, so gloriously, radiantly beautiful, and he couldn t believe she was standing there, allowing him to desecrate her innocence. He c
