It was a Wednesday. I called out sick—not because I was sick, but because I couldn’t think about anything but her. My mind was tangled in the memory of her lips from the night before. I had stayed late at her place, and the drive home had been a blur of want. I replayed each kiss, each laugh, letting myself drift into thoughts of all the things I hadn’t done… but so badly wanted to.

The dreams didn’t help either. I woke up with the kind of ache only she could soothe. So I texted, “Hey beautiful, wanna play hooky with me today?”

“…Mmm maybe. You’ll just have to come over and see for yourself,” she replied—teasing as ever.

I showed up quietly, slipping around to the back sliding glass door. And there she was: hips swaying, legs curled as she lounged on the couch, blouse snug against her chest—buttons straining slightly, practically begging to be undone.

I tossed a few pebbles at the window. She jumped, then turned, her face lighting up as soon as she saw me. I could practically feel her joy through the glass. She slid open the door and threw her arms around me.

She smelled like something warm and sweet—blossoms with a hint of cherry. God, that scent. I buried my face in her neck and stole a kiss before either of us said a word. Then another. And another. I barely let her breathe as I pulled her toward the car—my old blue Civic—because I already knew: we weren’t staying in.

We decided on the library—her idea. She said she wanted to show me the books she’d “dated” before me.

In the children’s section, we found a small stage set for community performances: a little castle built into the background, puppets lined on a shelf, costumes tucked behind velvet curtains. It felt quiet, dreamy—like the world had paused for us.

I watched her fingers trail along the spines of books. Bent slightly, skirt just high enough on her thighs to be dangerous. She had to know I was watching. Had to feel that pull between us.

She found her spot—a cozy alcove lit by filtered sunlight. She curled up, knees tucked in, hair falling across her eyes as she opened a familiar story. Her laughter came soft and light, echoing in the hush like a secret melody.

I walked over, brushing her hair behind her ear before stealing one more kiss and sliding in beside her. She stretched, then laid her legs across mine, sighing.

“Mmm… much better,” she purred with a teasing grin, then arched her back and opened the book. Her shirt shifted just enough to reveal the soft, perfect curve of her chest beneath—no bra. Just temptation.

“So… where should we begin?” she asked, voice low and rich. “This one always turned me on—the girl who tames the beast.”

She started reading. Slowly. Her mouth moved with each word, and I couldn’t stop watching it—those lips, the flick of her tongue. I wanted to grab her by that pretty throat, press her to the wall, and kiss her until she forgot the story she was reading.

“…And remember—there is beauty in the Beast… just as there is darkness in even the most perfect human,” she whispered.

Her eyes met mine. She hooked her legs tighter around my waist, the sparkle in her gaze electric.

“Darkness, huh?” I murmured, cupping her chin. “And would that darkness be in me… or in you?”

I kissed her, slow and deep. Let my tongue brush the roof of her mouth, then gave her a gentle bite before pulling away.

She slammed the book shut and jumped up. Bent to put it away—her ass perfect, teasing. I reached to grab her, to pull her across my lap and tell her exactly how naughty she was being… but remembered where we were. The children’s section. Even my darkness had limits.

She “accidentally” fell into my lap, then gasped and squealed, “You’re hard!” She giggled, hand over her mouth. She turned crimson, then darted toward the stage.

I chased her. Of course I did.

Behind the costumes, she threw on a wig and pointed at me dramatically.

“Stop right there!” she whispered, peeking to make sure no one else was around. Then—suddenly—she tossed me her underwear.

“Be on lookout… I promise I’ll make it worth your time.”

Before I could think, she pulled me behind the costume rack. I turned and froze—there she was, my princess, dress clinging to her body with nothing underneath. Her nipples subtly outlined beneath the thin fabric.

“Close your eyes,” she ordered. I obeyed.

She slipped a shirt over me, then a royal-looking overcoat.

“Okay, open."

I looked down—I was dressed like Prince Adam, more or less. Blue cape, wide sleeves. She smiled, lips curling devilishly, then disappeared behind the cardboard castle.

“Come out, or I’ll break down this door!” I roared in my best beast voice.

She peeked out.

“What a bad Beast you are… but I’m not interested in dinner. I want something more…” Her eyes dipped to my crotch. Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips. Then she slammed her foot down and disappeared again.

“Fine! Go ahead and starve!” I shouted.

I turned to leave—but then she tackled me.

“You’d deny me? You bad man…”

I growled, flipping her underneath me. Her hair fanned out across the stage floor, hands entwined in mine. Her panties and shirt lay somewhere near my own. She was a vision—wild, gorgeous, absolutely mine.

Then—footsteps.

I held a finger to her lips and whispered, “Shhh…”, heart racing, half-excited, half-terrified. We froze.

The steps faded. She exhaled.

“That was close…”

But I didn’t let her finish. I lifted her into my arms, carried her deeper behind the curtains, and pinned her against the wall. Our mouths met again—hungrier this time.

Her fingers moved to my buttons, slow at first, then hungrier—like she couldn’t wait to feel skin. The air between us crackled. I felt alive under her touch, every nerve sparking. My heart was pounding—not from nerves, but need.

She smelled like blossoms and heat—familiar and wild. I leaned closer, drawn to her like I’d never tasted her before. My hands explored her over the rough weave of her dress, sliding up her back, then down, tracing the curve of her waist. My thumbs brushed her chest, and I could feel her nipples straining against the fabric—waiting, wanting. I ached to pinch them the way she loved, between thumb and forefinger, just enough to make her moan.

And moan she did—into my mouth, biting my lower lip, dragging me deeper into her hunger.

I needed more. I pulled away from her lips and pressed to her neck, breathing her in, biting just below her ear. My hands slid down her sides, gathering her dress slowly, reverently, until I found bare skin—her thighs, soft and warm, completely bare. She’d been teasing me with glimpses all day, but now I knew: no panties.

That thought alone made my breath hitch. My hands trembled with restraint, but I kept going, knowing exactly where I wanted to end.

She whimpered, the sound soft and needy.

“Sssshhh,” I whispered against her ear, then kissed her again, deeper this time, to quiet her. Her legs shifted open, inviting. I lifted her hips slightly, fitting her against me, and felt her wetness press to the fabric of my jeans. She was ready.

“Might I breach the castle, princess?” I murmured, half-laughing, lips against hers.

She bit her bottom lip, eyes flashing, then growled, “Shut the fuck up. Just take me, you beast.”