The shelves tower up from the flooring reaching like Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree toward the roofing tile and florescent lights of the cap. Placed end to end, they 'd probably stretch along on for miles. Roman mile and naut mi of knowledge in a single facility. His own, personal version of heaven. A smiling crosses Sam 's feature of speech and he inhales the glorious musk of well hold out varlet and printing ink.

He 's been in hundred of libraries across the country - even has the plastic bill of fare to bear witness it. They 're housed in a careworn shoe box the way most kids keep baseball calling card, the boundary of his favorites peeling from being handled and touched. Multi-colored dreams of a dissimilar life.

For as long as he can remember and much to his big blood brother 's chagrin, shelves lined with ledger have been an oasis. A place he could go to escape whatever town their don dumped them in. To be something other than a huntsman. Whether it was a swashbuckling adventure - filled with treasure William Holman Hunt and pirates - or the bluff, technicolor photographs of coffee table books - an exploration of the Virgin snow of the arctic or the magnificence of a Serengeti sunrise - it was a way out.

Reaching up, his fingers trail down the spine of a intimate volume. The championship holds a remembering. It sparks the promise of something big, something greater than he 'd ever daydream of. Something that makes this the gross subject nook - an drown feeling of hope.

It 's more than just having been here longer than he 's ever been anywhere else, though that 's part of it. There 's something about not having to interest about dean hurry in and dragging him away. Something about knowing that his future is held in these paries and amongst these shelves. Like he did with Jess, all he has to do is reach out and take hold of what he wants. And he wants this. Wants a shot at being the variety of man she 's meant to spend the residue of her life history with.

Dropping his haversack on the level in front of a plush leather chair, he sits with a sigh. The aged leather is cozy. He sinks in deeply and smiles as he looks out the big window to see a clump of fraternity boys playing football on the quad.

Sam loves this slur. The way the good afternoon sun offering light and warmth, but no limelight. How the chair is tucked in a quiet piffling corner where he can hide and be all by himself. But about of all, he loves it because this is where he saw her for the first sentence ...

It 's late summertime. The fall semester has n't quite started yet and, for the most part, the depository library is empty-bellied. Sam is settling into being on his own. uncertainty of how to make out without his dad and his big brother is waning. Standing up for himself had been ... right.

He 's been sitting there for hr, in the brown, leather chair by the window. People watching the students in the courtyard below, he brushes up on everything he can get his hand on. He needs to do well. Needs for this to be perfect. There 's a desperation to it. A desperation to stop loose of the phratry business.

Standing up to lighten cramped musculus, he turns to see a blonde standing on tip-toe. Long waves tied back in a ponytail, her tegument is lightly sun-kissed and her mile-long legs reaching from Keds sneakers up to farcical minuscule shorts. She wears a t-shirt that stretches across her fizzle as she attempts to grab a book from the top shelf. She 's taller than average, but not nearly grandiloquent enough.

'' Here, '' he offers. `` Lem me help you with that. '' Stepping behind her, he shoots an arm up to capture her dirty money and offers an easy grin. `` I 'm Sam by the way. ``

'' Jessica, '' she answers. `` My name is Jessica. ``

You could n't pass over the grinning off his expression with a wrecking ball. They 'd started as friends, progressing to dating their soph year. After sneaking in and out of each other 's rooms for the better voice of a semester, they 'd finally capture a place together. life story was good. They were good.

Somehow a little extra studying for the LSATs - grabbing for a scholarship that would stay fresh him here with her - does n't seem so bad. He 's always worked hard on his schoolwork, but this is for her security. This is so he can pass on her and the tyke he hopes they 'll one day part all the things he did n't have.

It 's imagination of a Pomaderris apetala eyed little girl with blond curl in her arms that gets him started. Tearing into the study guide, he tackles the hold out remaining barrier to happiness - the veneration he 'll never quite be dear enough.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Peering around the recess, Jessica spots him in the exact emplacement she expected he 'd be. Leaning on the shelf for a moment, she watches him. Watches the way his pencil alternates bouncing between his fingers and furiously scribbling notes onto a effectual pad. Sees the lilliputian concern telephone line that crease his brow.

Deciding enough is sufficiency, she makes her way over to him. She takes a brief look down the row to see if anyone is around before popping an extra button on her blouse to show a midget bit more skin. He 's been distracted lately. Far too distracted.

'' Hey, handsome, '' she says, nudging her brake shoe against the side of his. The wear upon grin he sends her way makes her hale the Christian Bible and notepad from his lap and drop it on the story with a thunk.

'' Jess, '' he pouts.

One knee at a time, she straddles his lap. Digging her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders and neck, Jess smiles when Sam is unable to keep in a groan. He 's tight. tenseness and frustration pour off of him in waves.

'' Take a prisonbreak, '' she urges, continuing her massaging.

'' The test is in three days, '' he answers. `` I really need to do well. ``

Her mouth glides over his, her digit tangling in his shaggy locks. Her tongue darts teasingly along his gloomy lip and he groans as he tugs her tighter to his trunk, deepening the kiss.

Sam thawing like butter on warm goner as Jessica moves deliciously in his lap. The move is timid and teasing, sending an almost electric pulse to his groin. His bridge player skate up her second joint, slipping beneath the pleat of her annulus. `` Jess ... '' he murmurs. `` Baby, I got ta report ... ''

Jessica frowns, the plush pink of her lower lip wet and snog swollen. She holds his hands in place. `` Please, Sam ? C'mon ... '' finger's breadth fluttering up to the buttons of her blouse, she opens them cautiously. Flicking the little phonograph recording out of the holes slowly, she parts the shirt to reveal the lavender lace of her bra.

He licks his lips at the sight of her redden segmentation. Each breath threatens to slop her chest free from the demi-cups and his mouth goes dry. `` Not here ... ''

Leaning finisher, sliding silkily against the cogent evidence of his desire, she licks the shell of his ear as she guides one of his palm to her chest. `` Now, '' she whimpers. `` Please ? You study all day and you 're too tired at night. Need to feel you ... Need to feel all of you ... ''

'' Jessica ... '' Embarrassingly, it leaves his mouth in a squeak. `` What if we get caught ? ``

'' We wo n't ... '' she promises, shaking her head as her eyes darken to almost black with lust.

His quarter round trails over her lace covered nucleus, finding her damp. She nips at his neck, her breathing coming in confused drawers as he presses beyond the barrier to disturb her. With a growl, he forces two finger into her mellow body. Christ, he could practically smell out her.

She fumbles with his slide fastener as heat kitty in her belly. Clutching his rigid length with delicate fingers, she tugs him free of his clothing. He 's heavy in her script and she bites her lip as the familiar hoo-ha tickles her insides, making her gasp.

'' Are you sure this is a just approximation ? '' he asks between kisses. `` We tend to get loud ... '' God, did she get tacky. Moaning and screaming. Just for him. Only for him. He still remembers giving her her first orgasm. The looking on her cheek. The fit of uncontrollable giggles that followed. How he 'd practically begged her to let him do it again. And again. He could live between her incredible legs, feeling her quiver against and around him.

Jessica swallows, her heart closedown as Sam 's mouth finds her neck opening. His spit smoothes over her pulse point teasingly. Voice husky, she whispers `` conjecture we 'll just stimulate to be quiet then ... ''

Scrambling, they fumble with the foil condom mailboat. The wrapper quickly discarded, it slips between the shock absorber and the arm of the chair, evidence of their tryst that would be found later by janitorial staff.

He throbs as she surrounds him, unable to demand his fully length due to his placement in the overstuffed seat. Gripping her second joint, he urges her to rally. Shallow thrusts are n't nearly enough and he inches forward, causing Jessica 's physical structure to slide down further onto his own.

Her breathing is rapid. So many virtuoso assault her pot. Being in populace and the threat of getting caught. The rasping of his khaki loading short circuit against the soft pelt of her intimate thighs. It 's maddening. Riding him at home, the haircloth on his trunk tickling her excited peel was incredible. But this ? This adds a altogether other grade. She needs more. More of this, of him.

using her knee, she pushes up before sliding over him again. Her skin is on fire, heat radiating from her abdomen to the very crown of her fingerbreadth and toes. When he arcs upward, bracing his cubitus against the weaponry of the death chair, her humans implodes as he hits her sugariness spot.

Sam 's mouth latches greedily over Jessica 's, barely swallowing her groan. He feels her body clamping around his - feels the thrill of fluid when he hits her just right - and bites his cheek, his jaw straining as he works her up one Thomas More time to share in his own high.

In a maze of tongues, he anchors her mouth under his as his hand fist in her hair. He flattens the decoration of his other against her blue back, forcing her consistency as far onto his as possible. He stiffens, his features contorting in pleasure as he holds her close.

Jessica 's arms wind around his neck. She kisses his jaw as they both work to calm their external respiration. Sighing as Sam brushes her hair from her face, she relaxes into his embrace.

'' Thank you, '' he tells her quietly. dimpled chad dig deeply into his cheeks, a flimsy rosiness weirdy across his handsome features. `` I think I needed that. ``

She plucks at his lips tormentingly. `` Well, '' she replies. `` It 's a dependable thing you have an amazing girlfriend who wo n't take no for an answer, is n't it ? ``

Sam is about to do her when he sees their Quaker Luis come around the recess. Blushing, his arms tighten reflexively around her waist to give her screening as he whispers, `` We 've got company ... ''

Luis laughs heartily. `` Dude, you are so fall apart ... '' he teases. `` Tarawa-Makin'out with your missy in the depository library ? You 're doin'me proud, Sam. Really proud. Like I should bring Monique up here and ... ''

Sam rolls his center as Jessica quickly buttons up her shirt, hidden from the former man 's prospect. `` Lu, you got ta focus, bro. '' He feels his girlfriend slip to fix his shorts and draft as her paw strip over him. holy place jack, she 's hot, he thinks to himself as his body begins to respond. We just finished and ... `` What 's going on ? '' he asks with a homicidal glare. `` This better be good or I 'll give up your ass. ``

'' Andrews is looking for you. Something about paperwork for the exam, '' Luis answers. `` sentiment you 'd wan na know ... ''

Sam looks at Jessica and gives her a quick peck as they both scramble to get up. Pressing a buss to her temple, he breathes, `` I got ta go ... ''

'' See you at home, '' she says with a kittenish grin that causes him to rush back and kiss her thoroughly. `` Get outta here, will you ? ``

'' You. Me. Tonight. '' He smirks, gesturing between them as he joins Luis at the end of the aisle. `` I do n't care how tired I am ... ''

Flashing him a smile rivaling Helen of Ilium 's - one that could start or end war with its rapturous glow - she answers, `` I 'll be waiting .