Paying The Late Fees

She knows the fine, but she doesn’t want to pay it that way. The moment the librarian looks up from his desk, she drops the act. Kneels. Her mouth finds him fast—eager, wet, and practiced. He leans back and lets her work, blonde hair moving across his lap, tongue sliding, throat tightening until his fingers twist in her curls. When he’s throbbing, he pulls her up, spins her around, and bends her over the book cart. He takes her from behind, hips slapping skin, her moans echoing between the stacks. He finishes across her face, thick ropes landing on flushed cheeks and parted lips. She smiles through it, licking what she can reach while the late fee quietly disappears.