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My Dangerous Love

By Tinkerbelle Leonhardt All Rights Reserved ©

Erotica / Romance

Blurb

*** WARNING, THIS WAS MY FIRST EVER NOVEL *** This story is fictional and should only be read by 18+-year-olds. Exiting the limo I slide my hands around her waist cupping her arse cheeks and lifting her legs up around my waist holding her there I begin to walk, I know exactly where I'm heading and with our lips joined she giggles between moans and grinds. This woman, this librarian of all things makes me weak, horny and leaves me craving her skin on mine and yet I don't know why? All I know is while I carry her, kissing her, feeling her in my arms, making her scream my name, there's no one I want more and no one will ever replace her. I set her down in my bedroom; she turns to walk to the bed only my hand reaches for her to hold her still. Sliding my fingertips up the sides of her arms causing goosebumps trailing behind my touch, my left-hand grabs a handful of her hair and moves it out the way as my lips plant sweet, soft and tender kisses on her neck as she breathes heavy in pleasure. Her noises, her movements, her touch it all drives me wild with desire, the need to be a close to her as possible.

Chapter 1 - The Beginning

*** Slowly editing the whole book ***

Blood splatters cover my face as his body lay lifeless across my lap and tears escaped my eyes in a rush of panic, as I held him tight.

No, no, no, no” the words came rushing out as I breathed hard, unable to fathom the events leading up to this moment. The dark red liquid soaking his blue denim jeans and light green shirt, his white cap and white skate shoes no longer white, but dripping in red.

“You promised Chase, you promised me.” Sobbing uncontrollably, I placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“You promised me forever, don’t leave me, I love you,” I whispered turning toward the sky as the rain started to fall, disguising the tears that flowed fluidly.

One year earlier...

“Aiya, hurry up, we have to leave for work,” Margo yelled as I finished my mascara in the bathroom mirror.

“Coming, Jesus Mags.” I rolled my eyes and dropped the mascara onto the bench. Passing my oriental style bedroom, snatching my denim jacket hanging from the wooden bedpost and skipped down the stairs.

“You can’t rush perfection Mags,” sending her a wink, I slip on my black leather flats, brushing the wrinkles from my tight, black pencil skirt and my purple blouse then looking her square in the eyes with a smirk on my shiny glossed lips.

“Perfect?” Margo snorted, “I am the perfect one out of us two, you can’t even wake up on time, now get in the car.” Locking the front door of our two storied, city apartment, she marched us straight towards her Audi R8.

We were lucky that Margo… or Mags' parents had brought her this city apartment to be closer to her father’s Law Firm, where she worked as his receptionist, I, on the other hand, was not so lucky as I took a job working in the city library across the road.

Growing up with my adoptive parents was not a hard life, in fact, they were quite loving and supportive people, but considering they adopted me when I was ten years old, I knew they were not my own flesh and blood.

David and Robyn Carlson, were not rich like Mags' family but they worked hard, David owned a small local hardware store and Robyn worked in the primary school as a teacher’s aide. They were unable to have any children of their own but… I was definitely worth the wait… So dad would say!

Mags and I had finally reached our twenty-third year and had been best friends since the first day of grade nine. We were thirteen almost fourteen at the time and literally ran straight into each other. I was late, as usual, she needed to pee after a litre of cleansing juice she had been consuming for breakfast, we giggled, apologised and from that day forward we were inseparable.

I love Mags with all my heart, there was nothing, I wouldn’t do for her and her me.

……………………

I stood there smelling the leather-bound pages of the older books, imagining a time back when computers and phones were not invented and the library was a place to escape reality. Now the library is almost a novelty for retro university students or old folks looking to fill in their time.

My nose pressed hard against the pages and my eyes shut tight, I breathed deeply, basking in the musty smell as it tingled my senses.

“Excuse me?” an electrifyingly deep, husky voice vibrated through my body. Leaping almost out of my shoes in fright, I spun tightly, staring in the direction of the voice like a deer in the headlights. Taking one step back he spoke again.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but do you work here or do you just come to sniff the books?”

Feeling myself growing hot with horror as embarrassment rose within my chest, flushing my cheeks and reddening my ears. I looked him over unable to string a sentence together, praying a crack would develop below my feet and swallow me whole.

His deep green eyes stripped the air from my lungs as he stood there in all his magnificent glory. With his dark brown, short back and sides haircut, his deliciously tanned skin and slight chin stubble framing his strong but elegant jawline, he wore a navy blue long-sleeved shirt that was rolled to his elbows, black jeans and black skate shoes.

Sexiest man I had ever seen and he caught me sniffing books… oh, the horror!

“A… I… wha-… no… I… Jesus… I’m sorry, yes,” rolling my eyes at myself stuttering like a damn fool, “yes, I work here.” Sliding my hand across the front of my face in an attempt to hide the discomfort and regain some composure, although, I was certain my underarms had started to perspire. I prayed you could not see it through my blouse.

“Great,” he held in a chuckle at my response, “then, I was wondering if you had blueprints of historical buildings, streets, the city in general here?” he replied with a soft, warm smile, gracing his lips.

“Yes, we do, however you can’t sign them out… if you wish to look at them? I can bring them to your table? You can look through, copy by hand or photograph them but unfortunately, they have to stay here.”

Requests for blueprints were not uncommon in the library, especially for historical majors or renovation crews but he seemed far too good looking for either, then again, I never expected to be twenty-three and working in a library, so, I guess you can never tell.

“Thank you,” he replied politely, “I would like to see the prints for the underground sewer system and the structural prints for both the brickwork and the street outlines, I will be at that table over there,” as he pointed, my eyesight followed the direction.

“Sure, I will bring them to you in a moment.” I placed the novel back on the shelf and moved to get around him, standing there watching me intensely. He grabbed my arm, jerking my body back, stopping me from leaving.

“Will you be smelling the prints too or is it just books that take your fancy?”

Panting heavily, I was horrified by his quip, he was laughing so hard that his solid and what looked like, extremely well-built chest, rose and fell with each chuckle. My mouth flung open wide as I slowly began to move around him again, ready and desperately wanting to run.

Haha,” I sarcastically replied, annoyed at my own humiliation. My ears burning red and my forehead beaded droplets of sweat as I entered the dark documents room.

Why did that have to happen?

Looking at the roof of the small room, I swear, cursing in flustered frustration, at any and all gods listening and watching my embarrassing life play out for their entertainment, like a bad comical movie.

Seriously?” I curse again at the roof flailing my arms in the air like a damn conductor. “Seriously does everyone hate me? Can’t I be cool, just once? Please… Just once.” Grabbing the correctly requested blueprints from the specifically designed and marked shelves, a pair of white cotton gloves from the holder next to them, I walk to the table where he sat waiting.

“Thank you, Miss ……?” he replied, awaiting my name on tenterhooks.

“Mmmhhmmm,” I waved it off and went back to my trolley of books to return to their rightful spots on the shelves, completely overcome with crippling mortification.

Day after day, he came back, requesting the same blueprints, sitting at the same table, sometimes I would catch his eyes watching me but I blamed too many romance novels and a wild imagination for thinking this was anything more than a gorgeous man watching a crazy twit fluff about.

I would observe him through empty spaces on the shelves, finding any and every excuse, just to talk to him but it had been four days so far and nothing had happened apart from my fascinations of him bending me over in the restricted audio section and placing his god-like hands all over my body.

“Focus, Aiya focus,” I scolded myself as my core moistened, “it’s never going to happen.”

Today being Saturday, thankfully, was my last day of the week, unlike Mags, who worked Monday through Friday, I worked Tuesday through Saturday, but it wasn’t so bad. I still massively partied on a Friday night and thanks to Berocca and two guarana tablets, Saturdays flew by and before I knew it, it was closing time.

I grabbed my handbag and jacket heading for the exit.

“Have a great weekend Doris, see you Tuesday,” I called out before walking through the giant rotating doors.


“Where is that boy, Carlos?” Boss asked his footman.

“Still at the library working on the plans.” Carlos folded his sinewy arms across his bulky chest.

“He should have been finished by now?” Boss stubs out his Cuban cigar in the ashtray.

“I think something else has caught his attention, Boss.” A dark smirk forms on his scarred face.

“Put a tail on him, I wanna know what that boy of mine is up to?” Carlos nods in understanding, then exits the room quickly.

“What are you up to son?” Boss enlaces his long bony fingers in front of him with his elbows resting firmly upon his desk, deep in thought.

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