I didn’t plan for this. Not really. But then again, who does? It just happened, like the way it always does with her. Carla. The golden girl of our law school. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect fucking everything. And yet, here she was, kneeling in front of me in the dimly lit storage room of the library, her lips parted, waiting.

It started with a text. Just one. A simple, Need you. from me, and within minutes, she appeared like some kind of summoned spirit, gliding through the stacks with that practiced grace of hers. No one would’ve guessed where she was headed. No one would’ve guessed what she was about to do.

When she walked into the room, she didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. Her eyes said it all—dark, hungry, and a little bit desperate. I leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, watching her. She closed the door quietly behind her, locked it, and then turned to face me. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air between us thick with something unspoken. Then, without breaking eye contact, she sank to her knees.

“You know why I’m here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the ventilation system.

I didn’t answer right away. I let her squirm a little, let the weight of the silence press down on her until her breathing hitched. “Do I?” I finally asked, my tone casual, almost bored.

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. “Because I belong to you.”

Those words. Fuck. They did something to me every time. Hearing her say them, seeing the way her body tensed as if she hated admitting it but couldn’t stop herself—it was like throwing gasoline on a fire. I reached out, tangling my fingers in her hair, and pulled her closer. She didn’t resist. She never did.

“Prove it,” I said, my voice low and rough.

She didn’t hesitate. Her hands moved to my belt, trembling slightly as she unbuckled it. I could feel her breath on my skin, hot and uneven, as she worked. When she finally freed me, she paused for a moment, her lips hovering just inches away. I tightened my grip in her hair, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who was in control.

“Don’t make me wait,” I growled.

That was all the encouragement she needed. Her mouth closed around me, warm and wet, and I groaned softly, leaning back against the desk for support. She wasn’t shy or tentative—Carla never was. She took me deep, her tongue working in ways that made my head spin. I let my head fall back, my eyes drifting shut as I focused on the sensation, on the way she gave herself so completely to me.

But even as pleasure coursed through me, part of me couldn’t help but wonder why she did it. Why someone like her—brilliant, driven, destined for greatness—would willingly submit to someone like me. I wasn’t anything special. Sure, I had the frat boy charm and the family connections, but compared to her? I was nothing. And yet, here she was, on her knees, her nails digging into my thighs as she swallowed me deeper.

I pulled her head back, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Why do you do this?” I asked, my voice still rough but softer now, almost tender.

She looked up at me, her lips swollen and glistening, her eyes wide and vulnerable. For a moment, she didn’t answer. Then, in a voice so quiet I almost missed it, she said, “Because it’s the only time I feel alive.”

The honesty in her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew what she meant. The pressure of law school, the endless hours of studying, the constant need to be perfect—it was suffocating. And in moments like this, when the world outside ceased to exist, she could let go. She could stop being Carla, the golden girl, and just be… mine.

I tilted her chin up, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip. “Is that all?” I asked, my voice gentle now, almost teasing.

She hesitated, her eyes searching mine. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Yes.”

I smiled faintly, running my fingers through her hair. “Good girl.”

A shiver ran through her at the praise, and I felt her tremble beneath my touch. I tugged her forward, guiding her back onto me, and she obeyed without hesitation, taking me deep into her throat again. This time, though, I didn’t let her set the pace. I held her there, moving her head for her, slow and deliberate, savoring every second.

Her hands gripped my legs tighter, her nails leaving marks, but she didn’t try to pull away. She never did. Instead, she moaned softly around me, the sound muffled but unmistakable, and I felt myself getting closer to the edge.

“You’re so good at this,” I murmured, my voice strained. “So fucking good.”

She whimpered, her body tensing as I pushed her further, faster. I could feel her throat constricting around me, hear the wet sounds of her mouth working, and it drove me wild. I tangled my other hand in her hair, holding her steady as I thrust into her mouth, losing myself in the sensation.

And then, just as I was about to tip over the edge, I pulled her off. She gasped for air, her chest heaving, her lips swollen and red. I stood, pushing her onto her back, and pinned her wrists above her head. Her skirt rode up, revealing the curve of her thigh, and I trailed my fingers along her skin, watching the way her breath hitched at my touch.

“You want more?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous.

She nodded frantically, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please.”

I grinned, leaning down to kiss her roughly, biting her lower lip before pulling away. “Beg,” I commanded.

“Please,” she whimpered, arching her back. “Please, I need it.”

I undid the clasp of her skirt, letting it fall to the floor, and hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips to help me slide them off, and I tossed them aside, leaving her bare and exposed. I knelt between her legs, running my hands up her thighs and spreading them wider. She was already wet, and the sight of her—her body trembling, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths—made my blood burn.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I muttered, more to myself than to her.

She blushed, looking away, but I caught her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Don’t,” I said firmly. “Don’t look away. I want you to watch. I want you to see how much you affect me.”

Her eyes flicked down, and her lips parted in surprise. I smirked, positioning myself at her entrance, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “This is what you do to me, Carla. You make me lose control.”

And then I thrust into her, hard and fast, burying myself to the hilt in one smooth motion. She cried out, her nails digging into my shoulders, and I groaned at the feeling of her tight heat wrapped around me. I started moving, setting a brutal pace that left her gasping for air, her legs wrapping around my waist as she tried to pull me closer.

“Fuck,” I hissed, my hands gripping her hips. “You feel so good.”

She moaned, her body arching against mine, and I could feel her tightening around me, her walls clenching as she teetered on the edge. I shifted, changing the angle slightly, and she screamed, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. I didn’t let up, driving into her harder, faster, until I felt my own release building, unstoppable and inevitable.

With a groan, I came inside her, shuddering as pleasure wracked my body. She clung to me, her breath hot against my neck, and I collapsed onto her, both of us too spent to move. For a long moment, we just lay there, tangled together, the only sound in the room our ragged breathing.

Then, slowly, I pulled out of her and sat back, running a hand through my hair. She stayed where she was, her eyes closed, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. I watched her for a moment, marveling at the way she looked—completely unraveled, her perfect facade shattered—and felt a strange pang of guilt.

But before I could say anything, her phone buzzed on the floor, the screen lighting up with a notification. She glanced at it, and I saw her expression shift, her mask slipping back into place. She sat up, smoothing her hair, and reached for her clothes.

“I have to go,” she said, her voice steady now, businesslike. “Moot court prep starts in twenty minutes.”

I nodded, not sure what else to say. She dressed quickly, efficiently, and by the time she straightened her skirt and adjusted her collar, you never would’ve known what had just happened between us. She was Carla again—poised, polished, untouchable.

But as she turned to leave, she paused at the door and glanced back at me. “Same time tomorrow?” she asked, her tone light, almost playful.

I smirked, leaning back against the desk. “Only if you beg for it.”

She rolled her eyes, but I could see the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her lips. And then she was gone, disappearing into the library like a ghost, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the lingering scent of her perfume.

I sat there for a long time after she left, staring at the door, trying to make sense of what had just happened. But the truth was, I didn’t want to understand it. I just wanted more.

The next day, I couldn’t stop thinking about Carla. The way she’d looked at me as she left the library—her eyes dark with satisfaction, her lips slightly parted—was burned into my brain. It didn’t matter that she’d slipped back into her perfect-law-student act the second she stepped out of that storage room. I knew what she was like when she let go. And I wanted more.

I wasn’t alone in that. After practice, a few of the guys hung around the house, beers in hand, talking about nothing and everything. Somehow, the conversation turned to Carla. “She’s always so put-together,” one of them said, swirling his drink. “Bet she’s wild behind closed doors.”

I smirked, leaning back in my chair. You have no idea, I thought. But instead of saying it out loud, I took a sip of my beer and let the silence hang there. The guys knew better than to push me, but they could tell I had something on my mind. And then, because I couldn’t help myself, I said it: “What if she is?”

They all turned to look at me, curiosity sparking in their eyes. “What are you saying?” one of them asked, leaning forward.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the truth was, the idea had been simmering in the back of my mind ever since Carla walked out of that room. “I’m saying maybe she’s not as untouchable as she looks.”

There was a beat of silence, and then someone chuckled. “You’re full of shit.”

But I wasn’t. And later that night, after everyone else had gone to bed, I sent Carla a text. Meet me tomorrow. Same place.

Her reply came almost instantly. Only if you bring your friends.

My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t expected that—hadn’t even considered it, really. But now that the idea was out there, it was impossible to ignore. Are you serious?

I’m always serious, she replied. And then: Don’t make me beg twice.

The next afternoon, I brought two of the guys with me to the library. They were skeptical at first, but when we stepped into the storage room and saw Carla waiting for us—her golden hair loose around her shoulders, her skirt just a little shorter than usual—they stopped asking questions.

“So,” one of them said, glancing between me and Carla. “This is real?”

Carla didn’t say anything. Instead, she stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor, and reached up to undo the top button of his shirt. Her fingers trembled slightly, but her face was calm, almost serene. This is what she wants, I realized. This is what she needs.

The other guy whistled under his breath. “Damn.”

Carla turned to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “Your turn.”

It didn’t take long for things to escalate from there. One of the guys pushed her back against the desk, his hands rough but confident as he kissed her. She melted into it, her body going pliant under his touch, and I felt a surge of possessiveness that I couldn’t quite explain.

“Not so fast,” I said, stepping forward. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her away, spinning her around so her back was pressed against my chest. She gasped, her breath hitching as I nipped at her neck, my hands sliding down her sides to grip her hips.

One of the guys laughed. “You gonna share?”

I glanced down at Carla, my mouth brushing against her ear. “You want me to?”

She nodded, her cheeks flushed, her breathing uneven. “Yes,” she whispered.

That was all the encouragement they needed. They moved in, surrounding her, their hands reaching for her as I held her steady. She gasped again, louder this time, as one of them cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple through the thin fabric of her blouse. The other tugged her skirt up, exposing the lace of her panties, and I felt her shudder against me.

“You sure you can handle this?” I murmured, tracing the curve of her jaw with my fingers.

Her answer was immediate, almost desperate. “Yes.”

And then they were on her, their hands and mouths everywhere, pulling her clothes off piece by piece until she was bare before us. She moaned as one of them dropped to his knees, pressing his face between her legs, while the other trailed kisses down her stomach.

I watched her, my hands still gripping her hips, keeping her steady as her head fell back against my shoulder. “Look at you,” I said, my voice low and rough. “Perfect little stress reliever.”

She made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, her hips rocking forward as the guy between her legs worked her with his tongue. “Please,” she whispered, her nails digging into my arm.

“Please what?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

She turned her head, her dark eyes meeting mine. “Take me.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I spun her around, bending her over the desk, and fumbled with my belt. Behind me, I heard one of the guys groan. “Wait your turn,” I said, smirking as I positioned myself between her legs.

Carla whimpered as I pushed inside her, her hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth surface of the desk. “Oh God,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “Yes.”

I set a brutal pace, driven by the sounds she made and the knowledge that the others were watching, waiting for their turn. One of them leaned over her, kissing her roughly as his hand snaked down to where we were joined, his fingers slipping between her folds to tease her clit. She cried out, her body tightening around me, and I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to finish too soon.

“Fuck,” the other guy muttered, his hand moving over himself as he watched. “She’s incredible.”

Carla didn’t respond—she couldn’t, not with the way we were working her. Her moans were constant now, a stream of broken sounds that only spurred me on. When she came, it was with a cry so loud I worried someone outside the room might hear. But I didn’t stop, not until I was close, and then I pulled out, leaving her twitching on the desk as I turned to the guy beside me.

“Your turn,” I said, gesturing to Carla.

He didn’t need to be told twice.