Prologue
Welcome to my story.
***
Where the books get wetter than the characters.
She sat there, alone again, in her usual chair near the back corner-legs crossed, skirt riding high up her thighs, the fabric barely covering her soft skin. Her top clung to her body like it was painted on, the thin fabric tight around her chest, hugging every curve, every heavy swell of her breasts that strained with every breath. No bra, as always. She liked the friction, the way her nipples hardened shamelessly beneath the thin material, rubbing with every small movement, every quiet breath.
She loved this part of the day-before the world invaded her space. The quiet hum of the building, the stillness, the sense of hidden sins tucked inside every book surrounding her. She flipped through the pages of her latest dark romance novel, the kind that dripped with filth by page ten. The kind where the heroine was always ruined by some cruel man with a filthy mouth and stronger hands. Her thighs pressed together unconsciously, rubbing just enough to feel that familiar ache build between her legs, her clit already throbbing under the soft, soaked fabric of her panties.
But today... something was different.
She felt it before she saw it-a heavy stare crawling over her skin like heat. Her breath hitched, lips parting slightly as her eyes lifted, expecting emptiness.
Instead, there he was.
That same boy who came almost every day-tall, maybe six feet, lean but solid, always quiet, always watching. He worked nearby, she’d learned that much. Young, but there was something older in the way his eyes moved over her, slow, unapologetic, as if he could see straight through her skin. Her filthy little imagination had already wandered far with him. She’d pictured him between her legs more than once-tongue deep inside her, sucking her clit until she screamed, his hands pinning her down while he devoured her. She’d dreamed about it last night, too-him licking every inch of her pussy, whispering how sweet she tasted, how he wanted to keep her dripping for hours.
Her fingers trembled just remembering it.
But today... he wasn’t looking at her.
Someone else was.
The sudden sound of footsteps behind her broke the spell. Her heart jumped, her body freezing. Slowly, she turned, breath caught in her throat.
A delivery boy stood there-awkward, clutching something in his hands. A bouquet. Roses-dark, deep crimson, nearly black at the edges, their petals curling like smoke, seductive and sinful. She took them without a word, her hands shaking slightly as the heavy scent wrapped around her senses, thick and dizzying.
“Someone asked me to deliver it,” he muttered before vanishing, leaving her stunned.
Her fingers traced the petals, soft and velvety, but it wasn’t the flowers that made her chest tighten.
There, hidden deep within them, was an envelope.
Black. Smooth. Sinful to the touch.
Her hands shook as she pulled it out, her heart pounding harder with every second. Something deep inside her twisted, a dark flutter of fear... and something else.
Desire.
Her breath hitched as she slid the envelope open.
There was a photo inside.
Her stomach dropped.
It was her.
Naked. Sprawled across her sheets, body bare, caught mid-moan in the dim light of her bedroom. Her shirt was pushed high above her waist, breasts fully exposed-soft, heavy, nipples hard and flushed. Her legs were spread wide, her hand buried between her thighs, fingers slick and glistening from her own arousal.
Her lips parted in a silent gasp, horror crashing into heat as she stared at herself caught so shamelessly.
Her hands trembled violently, clutching the photo tight.
There were words scrawled across it.
Dark, bold letters dripping with filth.
“You look so fucking perfect like this, baby. I’ve been watching you squirm for weeks... and if you dare think about that pretty little boy again, I’ll fuck you so hard right here, you’ll forget how to walk.”
Her breath shattered, the words burning into her skin.
Her nipples grew painfully tight, pressing harder against her thin top, begging for touch. Her thighs clenched involuntarily, her pussy pulsing with thick, aching need.
God, she was soaked already.
She kept reading, unable to stop herself, every word dragging her deeper into the sick heat building inside her.
"You really thought I wouldn’t notice how you stared at him? How you imagined him between your legs? Cute. But you belong to me now. Next time you even look at him, I’ll bend you over this desk and make you scream for hours. I’ll keep you dripping until you beg to be ruined.”
A soft, broken whimper escaped her lips.
Her face burned with shame, but her body betrayed her completely-her panties drenched, clit swollen, pussy throbbing so hard she could barely sit still.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, her thighs rubbing together desperately, her mind spinning.
Was he here? Watching her right now?
Her heart pounded violently, eyes darting around the empty library, but all she saw were shadows.
There was more.
A final line at the bottom, written in smaller, cruel handwriting:
“Page 317, sweetheart. Your favorite scene. I marked it for you.”
Her blood turned to ice.
He knew.
He knew about the book.
Her secret dark romance novel, the one she kept hidden under her desk, bookmarked to the filthiest scene she read over and over- where the heroine was pinned down, legs spread, breasts squeezed mercilessly as the villain fucked her raw, using her body until she begged for more.
Her hand moved on its own, trembling fingers flipping through her hidden book under the desk.
Page 317.
Her favorite, marked.
Circled in thick black ink.
Her breath stopped.
Her panties were soaked, clinging to her throbbing pussy, her clit swollen and aching from how hard her body responded to the danger, the humiliation, the filthy, disgusting thrill of it all.
She knew it was wrong.
The thought of him watching her, knowing her, controlling her-it broke something inside her.
And deep inside, she knew...
This was only the beginning.
Somewhere close, hidden in the shadows, he was watching.
Smiling.
And soon, he would take her exactly as he promised.
