Constructive Criticism Ch. 03

I pull the library doors open and am greeted by the warmth of the radiator. I didn't even realize I forgot my coat in the dorm room; nonetheless, I didn't recognize I was cold. I take the ascent to the stacks slowly.

Floor 2.

Floor 3.

Down the hall.

I come to a complete stop before the doors that lead to the last floor. My hands are covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and I'm gripping the paper so hard my knuckles are white. My breathing comes out shallow, leaving a sharp strain on my lungs. My heart is resting in my throat, and I'm unable to tell whether I want to vomit, cry, scream, or. . . My dress feels tighter as the fabric clings to my sweaty body. It's hard to breathe in. Swallowing my fears, I press my palm against the cool metal before pushing the door open. I take the stairs one at a time as I try to control my nerves. To put up the mask I carry so well around Alex. Indifference. Annoyance. I swallow my fear one last time before I turn the handle of the door and step into the stacks. The air is warmer and rich with the smell of old books. It coats my tongue, and I inhale deeply. I turn the corner and stare down the long row of shelves. The hall seems to stretch forever and, near the end, I watch Alex as he sits on one of the tables. He's resting his elbow on the window sill, his cheek in hand, blowing billows of smoke out of the open window.

"Vidya," he says as a greeting, putting his vape away and latching the window shut. He watches as I make my way down the hall, one foot after another. In his anxiety, in his eagerness, maybe, he meets me halfway. We stop 6 feet away from one another.

"Alex," I say, our eyes meeting. My voice comes out sturdier and colder than I anticipated. I was scared it would come out in a squeak.

The iciness in my voice seems to take him by surprise, too. "I hope I haven't overstepped a boundary," he murmurs, his eyes full of concern.

I hold my tongue, unsure of what to say. I'm scared, and I don't want Alex to know. I've never let my guard down around him, so why start? This is how we interact. It amuses me to watch him struggle with my reservation. I glance down briefly at my shoes, let out a soft sigh, and meet his eyes again. "Overstepped? No. Tested? Admittedly. Do not ask me if I'm mad."

He steps closer until he's holding the other end of the stapled papers and slowly takes it from me. "What did you think?"

"If you wanted to humiliate me, then you certainly succeeded."

"Vidya, I'm-" he stops himself short.

"A little humiliation never hurt anyone," I tell him. "You could certainly afford some after what you've put me through these past 24 hours. Tiffany Reisz? I wasn't sure you knew how to read."

"Did it keep you entertained? You certainly came," he says, letting his eyes scour my body. He leans against the corner of the table, crosses his legs, and sets the paper down next to him. He rests his index finger against his lips. I stand taller than him now.

"Come I did," I respond, feeling bold. I take a step closer, my heart hammering in my chest. "We didn't finish a conversation from earlier."

He tilts his head back slowly and lets out a soft laugh. He has a come hither look written all over his face. The idea of feeling wanted is shocking. I have written about these moments so often, yet I hardly know what to do or what to say. All the moments I have made him struggle to find something to say has caught up to me. He knows I'm a virgin. He knows I want him, too. Fuck.

"Let's just say thinking about you and your little stories sure did make me want to see you come."

Embarrassment floods my cheeks. "To come for you?" I question, my voice suddenly weak. He's finally broken the exterior.

He stands up, approaches and stops until he's less than a foot away from me. "You write like a virgin. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Why do you care?" I ask, hurt. "What's so funny about this to you?" I feel myself getting angry as the anxiety and fear courses through me.

"Easy, Vidya," he replies.

"What do you want?" I can feel tears pricking at my eyes.

"Shhh," he breathes, taking my face in his palm. He leans forward and whispers in my ear, "Let me show you what to write about."

It's not like I didn't know this was coming but the shock makes my breath hitch.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes," I reply.

"Yes, please. Do you want it like your little stories?"

"Yes. Please," I murmur. "Go gently. . . this will be my first time." I swallow, overcome with nerves and my face burning with shame from the confession. My heart is racing, and as he presses his chest against mine, he must feel it hammering against my ribcage, against my skin, against his.

Gently, he pulls my earlobe into his mouth and begins to suck on it lightly. He bites down on it softly, shooting a spark of electricity through my body. He kisses behind my ear, under it, before gradually making his way to my jaw. He takes his time, letting each press of his lips burn into my skin. I'm shaking with anticipation. Alex kisses the corner of my mouth, then my lips, and I feel my heart leap. Before I can kiss him back, he presses his lips to the other corner of my mouth. He tilts my head up before kissing the top of my throat. Another shiver slips down my spine. Cupping my face again, he pulls me closer against him and kisses me. His lips are hot and warm, and he tastes like lavender from his vape. He keeps each kiss gentle and open, giving me my first sense of control. Alex pulls away to look down at me. He takes my hand in his and backs up slowly until he sits on the desk. As he spreads his legs, he yanks me toward him until I stumble into his arms, and he catches me. Alex guides me into another kiss, deepening it this time. Pressing my hand to his chest, I can feel his heart hammering against my hand. I feel him smile as he matches the movement, placing his hand against my chest.

"I-" I start before he cuts me off with another kiss. He runs his tongue against the top of my bottom lip before asking for entrance. I part my lips further. Our tongues graze, and the foreignness of his on mine causes a chill to slither down my spine. When he bites down gently on my lip, I gasp audibly, and we listen to the sound echo throughout the room.

"Sh, Vidya," he replies. "Trust me. Just enjoy." And I listen to him, for once. When he finally puts his hands on my skin, I feel electricity shoot from his touch to my sex. I almost moan from a mix of pleasure and shock. He starts on my hips and snakes his hands up until they both cup my breasts. He squeezes each one gently, and I can feel the dampness between my legs begin to spread. I let out a little moan into his mouth, and he bites down softly on my lip again. I shudder into it, and he tightens his grip on my breasts, moving them around in a circular motion with each hand. My hands clamber to the collar of his shirt, which I pull on.

"Patience, V," he tells me. "We'll get to the undressing eventually."

"Fuck you," I murmur, and he lightly spanks my ass. I let out a yelp, surprised.

"Manners," he reminds me. "Good girls get attention. Others should be ignored."

I curl my fingers into the fabric of his shirt to control myself from letting my hands roam. Alex continues the massage till my breasts ache with pleasant pain. What I hate most about it is that it drives me crazy and the desire for him to put his hands on my sex grows intolerable. Alex removes his hands a few minutes later and instead moves to my ass as he begins to squeeze lightly. And the process recommences, and the desire is vital. I find electric shocks pulsing where his hands have touched. When my hips jerk forward by accident, he breaks the kiss to laugh.

"I need you to stop teasing me," I gasp. "I need your hands on my sex."

"Sex?" He chuckles. "So classy. I prefer pussy. Would you call my cock my member?"

"Shut the fuck up and touch me," I reply. The transition is jarring as Alex stands up from the desk, pushes me down on it, and slaps my ass through the dress. I gasp in shock, and the pain stings slightly.

"Every time you don't use your manners, we're going to sit here and punish you. I could do this all day," he snaps. "Pull your dress up over your ass."

A shiver of anxiety courses through me as I pull the dress up and over my hips. He lets out a contented sigh and presses his warm hands on them.

"When you need to stop, tell me," he says. Taking my arms and pinning them behind my back, the side of my cheek pressed into the desk, and I shift with discomfort.

I swallow my nerves, and the process begins. Alex sweeps a gentle hand over my right cheek, and I let myself ease into the subtle touch. He brings his hand down with a smack. I start, banging my knee against the desk. I shut my eyes against the pain, and we recommence. He eases the smarting by rubbing me gently. The minutes pass, and he brings his hand down again, this time harder. I flinch this time, a small cry escaping from my lips.

"Shut it," he replies, hitting me once more. He builds his way up until the sound of his hand hitting my skin echoes through the stuffy room. Tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse to cry. Not in front of him. He is silent the entire time and refrains from offering any form of comfort. He lets go of my arms, and I ease myself off the desk. When I turn to face him, he presses his lips to my forehead.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and my knees go weak. "You did so well. Did you enjoy that?"

"Yes, Alex," I whisper back.

He pulls my dress up to my hips. He slips his middle finger into my underwear and runs it from the front of my vulva to the back. The touch makes my whole body shiver in a way it hasn't in years, and a soft moan escapes my lips.

He chuckles softly at how turned on I am, takes his finger out, and licks it clean. "I like this version of you. Desperate. Vulnerable. You give me everything I need. Are you going to be patient for me?"

I nod, breathless. Alex places each hand on the sides of my underwear, letting the dress fall over his arms. He pulls my underwear down my legs, crouching as he goes. He has me step out of them, and Alex pockets them as he stands back up. He pushes me back gently, so I stumble slightly and sit on the edge of the desk. He places his hands on either side of me as he leans over. His pupils are indistinguishable from his eyes, but he has the same look of want I must have written all over his face. He brings his lips to my ear again and begins to suck. His left leg slips between mine. Alex raises his up until his thigh is at the same level as the edge of the desk. Grabbing me from behind, he pushes me forward onto his thigh. My hands lean back to grab the table for support. He presses himself against my sex and, without waiting for the instruction, I begin to grind on him.

I moan softly at the feeling as the pain of want gradually begins to satiate. He moves his lips to my neck and guides me in rocking back and forth against his leg. He teethes at my throat, my neck and sucks on the pale, fragile skin. My senses are overwhelmed at the rough feeling of his jeans against me, at his hot mouth on my skin. When he removes his thigh and lips from my body, I let out a small cry of protest. He pulls me to my feet and reaches around my hips to untie the dress's strings of fabric. Alex pushes my hair out of the way as he grips the zipper, and in a swift movement, he undoes it all. The hair on my back stands up as I shiver in shock at the feeling of the air on my bare skin. When he turns me around, our eyes meet, and he kisses me softly as if to say it's all right. He pulls the neck of the dress away from my body and, as he does so, I let my arms slip out.

Our eyes are locked together as Alex pulls the dress down my body, allowing the fabric to slip away from my shoulders, breasts, stomach, and rest on my hips. A few seconds of silence and stillness pass as we regard one another, waiting to see what happens. He isn't rushing. Alex kisses my lips before putting his mouth on my collarbones. He kisses his way from the area of skin between them and my shoulder and works his way in. He grazes his teeth across them, sucks gently until he reaches the other end of my body. Recentering himself, Alex kisses down my chest and space between my breasts. Then, taking one in his left hand, he takes the other in his mouth and sucks on my nipple lightly. When I tell him to run his tongue over them in circles instead of sucking, he obliges, and I let out a long sigh. I tilt my head up, staring down the empty hallway. Our breathing is the only thing that fills the entire floor. I send a quiet prayer that we escape from the stacks without anyone catching us in our performance.

My attention is drawn back to him as he switches to the other nipple and repeats the pattern. The passing minutes of watching him suck let me re-ground myself. I breathe in and out steadily, trying to let go of the lingering nerves that cause me to shake. He positions his lips below the area between my breasts. Alex makes his way down my navel slowly, pulling the dress's fabric to the area just where my hair begins to grow. He looks back up at me, and I nod in encouragement, in telling him I want this. I sit down, spreading my legs. Alex gets to his knees and pushes the dress's skirt to my hips. Alex presses his lips to the inside of my thighs, slowly making his way up. He lets his lips linger in the inch where my inner thigh turns to sex and licks. A shiver skitters through my body, and he presses his mouth onto my burning flesh. I gasp. Working from the outside, Alex drags his tongue on the edge of my sex-my pussy?-in large sweeping circles as he begins to memorize the contour. His work is steady, and I shut my eyes, leaning back on my elbows. He moves to my lips next, and the friction of his tongue against it causes a soft moan to escape my lips.

It's unlike anything I have ever felt-so intense that the mere thought of it only turns me on more. My whole body is shaking in anticipation, in shock, in want. I breathe in slowly, making sure I memorize each detail, so the thought of him between my legs becomes the new routine in my fantasies. Is he doing the same?

Alex's tongue makes a few sweeping motions around my center before dragging it to the base of my clitoris. He waits patiently for instructions and, upon receiving them, he slowly begins to make slow circles on my clitoral hood. Another moan escapes me, this time as my pleasure is finally fully delivered, no more teasing, no more denying. His pace increases gradually as he pulls the hood back slightly, and his tongue begins to flick against the hood and the tip of the swollen knot of my clitoris. With my right hand, I grab his hair and hold it tightly, forcing him to stay pressed against me. My chest begins to heave as I gasp for breath against the pleasure, my legs turning to butter. I shut my eyes as another moan escapes, and I find myself saying his name between gasps for breath. It only works as encouragement, and my legs begin to quake. He wraps each arm around a thigh and picks up the pace. The room around me turns bleary, and all I can think about is his tongue, his lips, his warmth. I feel the blood begin to pound harder in my body as my sex begins to pulse with the build-up of orgasm. I find myself begging him not to stop, and with a series of moans louder than I intended, I come on his tongue. The orgasm rattles through my entire body, and he does not cease during the 15 seconds of ecstasy-the second soon follows, and I find tears flowing from the avalanche of pleasure.

"Holy fucking shit," I gasp, wiping the tears from my eyes when Alex gets back to his feet. I sit up, and we kiss. "You taste like me," I whisper.

"I do," he answers before deepening the kiss. "You taste good."

The flavor is bittersweet and salty, and I find our tongues grazing against one another as I search to keep the taste in my mouth. I pull away, and when our eyes meet, I ask, "Can I return the favor?"