Read Between The Lines

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Have you ever been read to?
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apathykiss
apathykiss
34 Followers

I love the library. Not because of my love for books, but because of the overall feel of the place. Everyone walks into the library thirsty for knowledge and experiences and hungry for life and wisdom. They want to gain something from that visit, even if it's reading about another person experiencing.

It's silent but you can almost hear everyone's gears working in their head and storing the knowledge in the back of their mind for later. Almost as if some guy who run your mind is sitting behind your eyeball writing and saying, "Good, good. We'll need that fact about sharks later." Then he stores it into a file cabinet and pulls it out when that opportunity knocks. You would thank the heavens you read that book about sharks.

This is where I wonder right now. I run my fingertips over the fiction and walk into psychology and philosophy. Walking through the isles I'm not sure what I'm looking for, but I'll find it. I always do. A fiction novel? Or a psychology book on nightmares? A hard core romance? Or an audio tape on the latest actions in the Middle East? Whatever I want it's there and here's the best part- it's free!

I make my way to romance, right next to mystery. I'm feeling saucy and dangerous. I'm feeling like I need a wild stallion on a wild stallion to take me away where everything will be okay and were no one will hurt me unless I ask nicely. I gaze over the short shelf of Computer Do It Yourself books and see someone staring at me.

He's deliciously handsome. It took me a moment to remember that I'm human and need to breathe as I let the air out of my lungs and back in again. His hair is a little on the long side where it looks as if he had more important things to do than keep his hair. It's a dark brown that looks almost red if the light is shining on it right. A rich color that was reflected in his eyes as he watched me walk and slip between the shelves. I can still see him, and he knows. He hasn't blinked.

He looks back down again and makes a note on his page, looking back at me, noting something down. I would assume he was an artist but the strokes were too straight and they are in too much of the left to right pattern for it to be a sketch. What is he writing? I wonder if it's about me. I've always wanted to be an inspiration. I want to be like Wynona. You know Wynona Ryder is in at least a dozen different songs that she has inspired? I want that fame.

I walk to the romance and flip through the titles, not paying attention to the books, but I appear interested. I just don't want him to think I'm watching him. I am a killer at the hard-to-get game and we both usually win. I get the man right where I want him, and he gets me. Sound like a good arrangement.

He stands up and closes his notepad, tucking it under his arm. His jacket is blue, a dark blue that reminds me of midnight and his jeans are worn down like a good pair should. I walk through the shelves and break our gaze towards the romance section.

He walked to the section I was browsing and replaced a book. "Find anything interesting?" He asks.

His face comes close to mine and I can smell his aftershave. I love it. I can almost taste it. Picking a book at random, I pull it off the shelf and hold it close to my chest. "Maybe. I've read a lot of books, It's hard to find a good one."

Our voices are coming out of our bodies in conspiring whispers as we watch each other's movements. I pulled off a book by a popular mystery writer and he looks down, smiling. "That's a good one."

"I've read it." I say, I feel like a little kid. I'm not sure of my movements and he makes me nervous, but his eyes are telling me something I shouldn't know but want to. He takes the red leather book from my fingers and smiles.

"Yes, you probably have. But have you ever been read to?"

Well, the last time I was read to was probably in grade school when the teacher read to the class 'Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing', so I'm guessing I should just deny.

"No. Sorry."

He flipped through the pages and said, "Every book tells a story and with each story, gives you an experience. If someone else reads it, it gives you a whole new adventure."

He took his fingers from the book's pages flapping quickly and ran then along my jawline. "I could show you."

I find myself sitting to the side of this enchanted creature in the audio section of the library. Everyone here has headphones on and no one would care if I stood up right now and announced that the world was going to end. They can't hear me.

The man across from me opens the book and leans closer to me as he begins the first page. His voice is so smooth and delicious that I feel like I can pull a stream of his words out of his mouth and devour them like taffy. I rest my hand on my chin, propped up by my elbow and look at his face as he reads. Each expression in the book was reflected in his face. If the character was angry, so was he. If the character was happy, so was he. It was incredible.

I met his eyes over the pages and he stopped for a moment to smile. His eyes were a molten chocolate strawberry. The most unique color of eyes I have ever seen. The hero and heroine of the book have just kissed and are in a desperate embrace that could be dangerous. Those eyes reflected the passion they were experiencing. I saw desire for the forbidden fruit and the carelessness of that first bite. I wanted it too. The kiss led to a love scene. He took each sentence slowly and with infinite care.

"Gary took Tess by her shoulders and pressed her against the wall. "Now, Tess. I want you now." He took her mouth with his and kissed the protest on her lips, turning her heart over in her chest. She wanted him too."

The man moved his legs under the table and our knees brushed delicately, sending sensations all over my skin. As our eyes locked again, he continued the words as if he already knew them, as if he read the story a million times, as if he was Gary and knew each move. I rested my leg next to his, keeping the touch close and testing the waters. He smiled and moved his leg closer. Biting my bottom lip, I soaked in every word he said and experienced each feeling that passed through Tess. I wanted this man with a fever I've never had before. And I wanted him to read to me until eternity closes over us. But most of all, I wanted to feel those hands on my skin in the way Gary took hold of Tess, in an animal-like manor, hungry for every inch of flesh that was exposed. I listened to the man's voice and imagined me as Tess, and him as Gary.

"Gary ripped her shirt down the front and took her breasts in his hands. They felt like silk under his touch but he wasn't gentle and savoring; Gary was hungry and desperate. His mouth sucked on her skin hard and Tess moaned from each act. Her body was pressing hard against Gary, as Gary grew hard in response.

He couldn't take it anymore. He opened the snap of her jeans and dove his unsteady hand in to find her hot and wet, meeting her eyes and lips together with his. Throwing her over her first peak, Gary groaned in mutual delight as his pants went down as well."

My leg was rubbing the man's through his jeans and I wanted to hold him. I wanted to feel him. He tossed his hair out of his eyes and continued reading in his sensual whisper that I know I'm going to hear in my sleep. His voice was mesmerizing and I wanted to grab each word and taste each phrase that left his moist lips. I felt my body responding to his words and I sighed. I sighed like a woman on a cover of a supermarket romance novel, but the sigh caught his attention. He smiled and his voice grew heavier and the gleam in his eyes was wild.

"Tess screamed for him, 'Gary, oh. Gary, I want you so bad.'"

His hand slipped beneath the table and rested on my thigh. After that, I forget the next three or so lines he read. His hand held my leg and the fingers were kneading into my skin. As my breath resumed in starts and gasps, he laid the book down and met my eyes. The only thing keeping our desires apart was the wooden corner of the table. It took me a moment to realize he stopped talking and was now looking at me with a strong stare.

The book was face down on the table and saved at the page we stopped. I looked at the book, currently forming a teepee but all thoughts were lost as his hand moved up my leg. He shifted his chair closer to me and I saw the hunger in his dark eyes. I know it was hunger. One recognizes a like, and I was famished.

The man moved both hands under the table and titled his head in a teasing gesture. It asked me "Do you want me to go on?". It asked me "What do you want?". And it told me, "I want you. But you know that, don't you?"

He moved his chair so close now that he was sitting on the side with me, his legs pressed hard against mine. He brought his mouth close to my face and I felt his breath cruise over my skin. It brought ripples through my body and I suppressed a delicate shudder. His voice traveled to my ear and he said, "Why don't you finish the scene. It gets better." With my lobe caught between his teeth, I was surprised I could still remember to breath, let alone read. But I found my thighs being massaged and my mouth moving to form the words that were written on the pages.

"Tess was scratching her nails down Gary's bare back as he bit the soft skin of her inner thigh. "Your so delicious right here. It's as sweet as candy." He licked her skin like a tempting new treat before following his mouth to the sugar coated center. Here she was not only sweet, but hot and dangerous."

The stranger's thumbs were pressing hard on my skin and he kept his face so close to me that his breath hit my neck with each deep exhale. Meeting his eyes for a moment, I moved my left hand to his own thigh and felt the muscles in his leg tighten in surprise before relaxing in pleasure. A beautiful smile slid a across his face at the gesture and I felt my spine melt in response.

I read on with the same passion and same emotion that this stranger has given me. With his hand kneading the skin of my leg, my voice grew smoky and soft with desire. His lips where rubbing on the skin of my neck. He didn't kiss me, he hasn't kissed me, but I feel like he has been through the entire scene. He takes the hand resting on his leg and moves it to my leg, covering his hand. I meet his eyes and he smiles. "Keep reading."

"Gary's body slams Tess against the concrete wall and as heat meets heat, they both yell out and groan. All minds have been temporarily shut off and all hearts were swelling as their bodies connected and they met each other in rapid fire, keeping pace and passion equal."

I felt my hand move over his as he covered me with his hand. I was hot. I was wet. I was anxious. I was so many things and most of all, I was impatient. With my hand over his, I pressed his fingers onto my jeans and skipped a syllable in the word "desperate". It came out "desp-ate" but I think he got the picture. I couldn't concentrate on the words. They all ran together in a monotone picture that blurred gray as I closed my eyes.

Now, he did kiss me. His lips moved to mine and drank me in deeply, quickly. He was so thirsty. The embrace broke quickly and he stroked his fingers over my jeans, moving his lips to my ear. Instead of biting or kissing, he took a deep breath, and began narrating each move we made.

"Her breath was fierce and deep as she took in air to stay focused, stay awake. She was hot underneath his touch and he wanted to feel the heated skin, feel what he was doing to her. He instructed her to unzip her pants. And she complied."

Without hesitation my zipper was down and my trembling fingers were resting on the book before me. I waited for his move and looked around with searching eyes. I will slay any soul who dares to enter or leave the audio room at this moment. I hope everyone understands that.

His fingers hesitated in the motion and his tongue snaked from his mouth, the tip grazing my lobe. The shudder that thrilled through my body was a preview, and he meant for it to happen. He meant to tease. Then in a swift move, his hand disappeared in my jeans. His groan was unexpected and brought a sweet delight to my heart. With my smile smeared on my face, the man continued his narration.

"When he touched her skin, his body responded instantly. She was just as he expected her, and so much more inside. His searching fingers entered her as she opened herself to him, inviting everything he had to offer."

My legs spread wider and I bit my bottom lip as he thrust his fingers into my hole that was anticipating his touch. I almost sighed in triumph, but bit harder on my lip and just smiled. His words were bringing me to a whole new level of sexuality. He was touching me and stimulating my body, but his words were stimulating my mind. I was getting rubbed every which way and was getting closer and closer to the point where I'm going to burst.

"Her skin trembled and he felt it as his hands worked on her skin. Just her wetness drove him made, but her scent reached his mind and like an animal he hungered for her taste, her body, her touch." He growled a low growl and bit into my exposed neck. A small cry escaped my lips before I could stop it and at this point, I didn't care who turned around to see. He licked the small bite and kept taking. "He wanted her to come. He wanted her to come so hard that the table will shake from her orgasm, and he wanted to be responsible for it. That small victory will be sweeter than strawberry wine. He grew harder as her breath grew deeper."

I ran my fingers from the table and covered his hard-on with my fingers. With his quick in take of breath, I smiled and held him close. I was getting close. I could feel it building and rocked my hips with the motion of his hand. "Come for me, my sweet. I want to feel each second of your pleasure." He pressed his strong thumb to my swollen clitoris and tossed me over the edge. I threw my head back and he took that as an invitation to feast on my neck. Eat, drink, be merry.

My body rippled and shook, my legs going weak and my mind to mush. I tensed and held him close, muffling as best I could my cry in his throat as I turned to him.

He heard my breathing slow and my body relax, then continued. "Her pleasure brought him a stellar amount of his own, and he looked at her, watching the glow of the orgasm take over her body. He would remember this for the rest of his life, the first experience that left them each breathless. And the only thought that ran through his mind as she held the satisfied smirk on her face was," he removed his hand from my jeans and kissed his fingers, "He couldn't wait to do it again."

apathykiss
apathykiss
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RossDanielsRossDanielsover 14 years ago
Loved it!

The only thing more powerfully sexy than the written word is the spoken word . . . when spoken by someone who knows what he's doing. This was a very clever idea and well-executed. As someone who loves to read and be read to by my partner, I felt the author pushing every one of my buttons. Very, very nice.

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