Have you ever thought about Jake in a library?
Not the playful Jake with the sunshine smile. But the one who sits too close. Whispers in your ear while pretending to read. Lets his hand slide a little too far under the table—just to see how long it takes for you to break.
Because that’s exactly what he’s doing now.
You're sitting together in a tucked-away corner of the company library, supposedly helping him with lyrics. But the way his knee brushes yours, the way his voice drops when he speaks—none of this is about songwriting.
“Page sixty-nine,” he mutters with a grin, handing you a textbook, eyes sparkling.
You roll your eyes, but your heart’s already racing. Because the second you flip the page, Jake leans in behind you—pressing his chest to your back, lips brushing your ear.
“Did you know… I get hard every time you call me ‘good boy’ during rehearsals?”
Your breath hitches.
“Jake—”
“Shhh,” he whispers, lips ghosting your neck. “We’re in a library, remember?”
The book in your lap slips off as he slides his hand between your thighs under the table. He tuts softly.
“No panties today? What a surprise.”
Your cheeks burn. His fingers trace lazy circles over your folds, light, teasing touches that leave you throbbing and barely breathing.
"You're so wet already," he says, voice low and smug. "You came here needing this, didn’t you?"
Then he sinks to his knees beneath the table.
You bite your lip hard—because no way, no way, he’s actually—
But yes. Jake spreads your legs, pulls your skirt up, and devours you like he’s starving, like the taste of you is better than any lyric he’s ever written.
His tongue is relentless. Soft at first, slow… until he gets you trembling, barely gripping the edge of the table. You reach down to stop him—you can’t moan here—but he just grabs your wrist and keeps going.
“Mmph,” he hums, mouth still buried in you. “Be good. Stay quiet.”
Your eyes roll back.
You’ll never be able to step into this library again without feeling his tongue.
