Library Window Showoff: Stranger's Eyes on Her Wet Fingers

The third floor of the university library was dead quiet after ten. Lila had the entire study wing to herself, the long oak tables stretching into shadow under the low emergency lights. She was supposed to be finishing her psych paper. Instead, the 22-year-old sat sideways in a wooden chair, one knee drawn up, the short plaid skirt she’d worn to tease herself riding dangerously high on her bare thighs. No panties. She never wore them on nights like this.

Her gaze drifted past her laptop screen toward the tall glass wall that faced the newer engineering building across the narrow courtyard. Most of those windows were dark, but one was lit. A man stood there, perfectly framed by the glass, watching her.

He was in his late twenties, broad-shouldered, dark hair, sharp jaw. Even from this distance she could tell he was handsome in a rough, confident way. And he wasn’t pretending to look somewhere else. His eyes were locked on her like she was the only thing in the world.

Lila’s breath caught. A hot flush rolled down her chest and settled between her legs. Slowly, deliberately, she let her raised knee fall to the side. The short skirt slipped higher. Cool library air kissed her bare, already slick pussy. She held the position, thighs parted on the edge of the desk, letting him see everything.

He didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned closer to the glass.

Her heart hammered so hard she felt it in her clit. This was insane. Reckless. Perfect.