Page 72 of Damiano De Luca (The Five Syndicates)
Our library.
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “There are other libraries.”
“Not the same.”
“We made memories in this library last night.” My hand slid down his chest and dipped below the band of his sweatpants.
He grabbed my hand and led it to his erection. We stroked it together. His hand gripped the base of his cock. I wrapped my palm around the top, my thumb brushing against his head. He twisted up, and I followed his lead, working his length with him.
He leaned up and nipped my neck.
I let out a soft sigh, and my hand stilled. “The library’s crowded out there. We already had someone interrupt us last night. It’s an old library. There’s no soundproofing.”
“Let them hear.”
He flipped me, so he hovered over me. Moving down my body, he slid my sleeping shorts and underwear down. I slung my legs over his shoulders and interlocked my ankles. He gave my pussy an open-mouthed kiss before he carried me to the bookshelf, his lips still pressed against my core.
“Oh, God.” I reached behind me and gripped one of the shelves.
Books fell to the floor. I couldn’t even bother to keep my voice down. Damian’s hands squeezed my ass, pushing me closer to his face. His nose brushed against my clit, and I groaned loud enough that footsteps paused outside the door.
Damian slid his tongue inside me, fucking me with it. Over and over again as I rode his face. I came with a scream, and my core clenched around his tongue. This time, every book on the shelf had fallen to the floor.
When he set me back on the bed, lowered his sweats, and moved to enter me, I stopped him with a quirked brow. “We’re still going on a date.”
He looked too satisfied. “Whatever you want.”
“Now.”
“Now?” He had his erection out and paused mid-stroke.
“Yup. Date first.”
He clenched his eyes shut but tucked himself back inside his sweats. “Date it is.”
I smiled at him. It was toothy and one-hundred percent genuine.
The atmosphere felt lighthearted. Playful. Not weighed down by the eternal forces we’d always been plagued by.
It felt right.
Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom.
Thomas Jefferson
We stood outside the bustling subway entrance. A dirty white tile laid beside the stairwell underground. Etched shooting stars surrounded messy text.
I turned to Damian. “We’re here.”
“Chinatown? Are we getting soup dumplings?”
“No, here.” I pointed to the tile. “Read it.”
He cut me an odd stare before relenting. “One day, I’ll see you every day, and we’ll be forever, like dreams.” He cocked a brow. “What is this?”
“A Toynbee tile.”
“A tile named after the story?”
