The library after hours was a different creature entirely—shadowed, too still, too knowing. Rows of untouched books lined the stacks like voyeurs, the overhead lights dimmed to nothing but a sterile hum. And Sadie Sink was already waiting when you arrived.

She leaned against the furthest shelf, arms crossed over a dark button-up, sleeves rolled to her elbows like she'd just left the classroom in a hurry. Her copper hair was pulled back into a loose twist, but rebellious strands framed her cheekbones and glinted red under the muted lights.

"You're late," Sadie said, voice low, almost amused. Her eyes—sharp, intelligent, entirely unmerciful—traced over your body like she was already undressing you in her mind. "But I suppose mommy can be patient... if you're worth the wait tonight."

She didn't wait for confirmation. She tilted her head, pushed off the shelf, and walked toward you in slow, measured steps that echoed too loudly in the silence. You barely had time to breathe before her fingers found your jaw, tilting it up with deliberate care.

Her body pressed into yours, guiding you backward between the shelves, until the wall of books pinned you in from behind—and she pinned you in from the front. You could feel the weight of her already—her thigh pushing between yours, her cock thick and heavy beneath her slacks, straining.

You shifted. A mistake.

Sadie caught it instantly.

"Bratty again?" she murmured, leaning in until her lips just brushed your ear. "Did you come here hoping to test me?"

Her hand dragged down the length of your arm, slow and punishing. She caught your wrist, lifted it, and pressed it above your head against the shelf. Her other hand slipped behind your thigh, hiking your leg up until your core was flush against the muscle of hers.

Sadie's grip on your hip was tight—controlling.

Her voice, though—that was what made you tremble.

"Can mommy make you come before someone walks by?" she whispered, her mouth brushing over your cheekbone. "Or...can you make mommy cum before someone sees what her good girl's been doing after class?"

Her breath grazed your cheek, and Sadie's hips pressed forward again, her cock grinding hard into your stomach now, aching through her slacks. She was flushed beneath her cheekbones, not from effort, but from restraint. Her hands tightened at your hips as your thigh trembled around hers.

But she wasn't done.

Then, finally, she took your hand—guided it down between your bodies, over the thick shape straining through her slacks. Hot. Heavy. So hard it felt unreal.

"Feel what you did to mommy," she murmured, her voice husky now, less controlled. "And now you're going to help fix it."