I’m usually the quiet, responsible one in class — always paying attention, taking notes, keeping to myself. But last semester, something happened that completely turned that image upside down. I still can’t believe how out of control things got, but I guess it just goes to show that sometimes, even the best-behaved girls have their moments.

It all started when I got paired up with Jake for a group project. He was a senior, tall and good-looking, the kind of guy everyone notices when he walks into a room. I’d always thought he was way out of my league, but working on this project together meant spending a lot of time alone in the library. At first, we kept things professional — talking about the assignment, sharing research — but the more we talked, the more I noticed his playful glances and teasing comments. And the more I noticed… the more I wanted to keep his attention.

One night, we stayed late, the library practically empty. We were sitting close, laptops open, and I kept catching myself staring at him, getting distracted by the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders or the way his fingers moved across the keyboard. I must have blushed every time he looked up, and eventually, he smirked.

“You okay?” he asked softly, leaning in a little closer.

“Yeah, just… tired,” I lied, but the way my voice shook gave me away. He raised an eyebrow, and I couldn’t help it. I glanced at his lips, just for a second. It was all the encouragement he needed.

Before I knew it, his hand was on my knee, warm and firm, and I couldn’t breathe. “You’re not a very good liar,” he murmured, his voice so low I could barely hear it. His thumb stroked the inside of my thigh, sending shivers up my spine, and I should have pulled away. But I didn’t. I just sat there, staring at him, my heart pounding in my chest.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, but I didn’t move. I didn’t want him to stop.

“Just seeing how far I can push you,” he murmured back, his hand sliding higher. I sucked in a breath as his fingers brushed against my panties, teasing the edge, and my body clenched with need.

“We can’t—someone might see,” I protested weakly, but even as I spoke, I spread my legs a little wider. He noticed, and his smile widened.

“Then you’d better stay quiet,” he whispered, his fingers slipping under the fabric, brushing against my wetness. I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth, and his eyes darkened.

I should have pushed him away. I should have stopped him. But instead, I bit my lip and arched into his touch, silently begging for more. He didn’t hesitate, sliding a finger inside me, slow and steady, his gaze never leaving my face.

“You’re soaking,” he murmured, his voice full of dark satisfaction. “I bet you’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

I shook my head, but the lie felt flimsy, even to me. He added a second finger, twisting them gently, and I had to bite down on my knuckles to keep from crying out.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his thumb circling my clit in a way that made my entire body tremble. “Such a good girl, but so desperate to be bad, huh?”

His words sent a rush of heat straight to my core, and I whimpered softly. “Please,” I breathed, not even sure what I was begging for. I just knew I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“What do you want?” he whispered, leaning in close, his lips brushing my ear. “Tell me.”

I hesitated, but the feel of his fingers inside me, the slick heat building with every slow thrust, made it impossible to think straight. “I want… I want you to—” I broke off, my cheeks burning.

“To what?” he pressed, his voice low and demanding. “Say it.”

“Touch me,” I whispered finally, my face buried in his shoulder. “Make me come.”

He laughed softly, but the sound was full of approval. “Good girl,” he murmured, and then his fingers were moving faster, deeper, his thumb circling my clit in a way that made my toes curl. I tried to stay quiet, but it was impossible. Little gasps and whimpers escaped me, my hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more.

And then he leaned down, his lips brushing mine, and kissed me — slow and deep, his tongue teasing mine until I was dizzy. I cried out softly against his mouth as I came, my body clenching around his fingers, shaking with the force of it. He swallowed my moan, his other hand tangling in my hair, holding me still as he worked me through it.

When it was over, I was trembling, my head spinning, and he pulled back just enough to look at me. “We’re not done,” he whispered, his eyes dark with heat.

I blinked up at him, still catching my breath, and then he was tugging me out of my chair, pulling me onto his lap. I felt the hard length of him through his jeans, and I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped me.

He grinned. “Think you’re ready for more?”

I nodded, my fingers trembling as I reached down, unbuttoning his jeans. I was soaked, my body still aching, and when I finally freed him, I couldn’t stop myself. I lowered myself onto him, my eyes fluttering shut at the delicious stretch.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his hands gripping my hips. “You’re so tight.”

I whimpered, my hands braced against his shoulders, and began to move, slow and hesitant at first, then faster as the pleasure built again, overwhelming and unstoppable. We were in the middle of the library, anyone could have walked in… but I didn’t care.

The risk, the thrill, the way he filled me so perfectly — it was all too much. And when he came, shuddering under me, I followed him over the edge, biting my lip hard to keep from screaming.

Afterward, we sat there for a moment, catching our breath. Then he smiled, a little sheepishly. “Guess we’re not going to get much work done tonight, huh?”

I laughed softly, still trembling. “Maybe not… but I think I learned a few new things anyway.”