The next day, the library felt even heavier. The air was still. The shelves stood like sentinels, thick with silence and the memory of what had happened between them.

Aniket was waiting.

He didn’t speak when Nandini entered. He simply tilted his head toward the back—same aisle, same shelf. This time, she didn’t hesitate.

He pushed her against the wooden edge the moment they were hidden. Her saree was folded away in seconds. Her blouse, unbuttoned. Her nipple pulled into his mouth as his hand slid down to stroke her heat.

“You came back needy,” he said, voice low.

“Because you didn’t finish yesterday,” she gasped.

But as he began to finger her again, slow and deliberate, a sudden creak of the library door cut through the stillness.

They froze.

Footsteps.

Calm. Familiar.

Vikrant.

She knew his walk.

He turned into the aisle before either of them could speak. Stopped.

His eyes took it in: Nandini, legs parted, blouse open, Aniket with his fingers still buried inside her.

There was no outrage.

Just a smirk.

“I figured something was going on,” Vikrant said. “But I didn’t expect you’d share her.”

Aniket didn’t move. “She came here asking to be punished.”

“She’s also mine,” Vikrant said calmly, walking closer. “Isn’t that right, Nandini?”

She nodded, eyes wide, breath shaky. “Y-yes.”

“So let’s both give her what she needs.”

Vikrant stepped behind her, pressing his chest to her back, his hand joining Aniket’s between her legs. Two sets of fingers. Stroking. Teasing. Her knees buckled.

“Too much?” Aniket asked, smirking.

“Not enough,” she whimpered.

Aniket dropped to his knees, pulling her thighs apart as Vikrant unzipped, pulling his cock free and sliding it against her lips. She opened eagerly, sucking him in deep as Aniket’s tongue replaced his fingers below.

One mouth on her pussy. One cock down her throat. The two men moved in sync, using her, praising her, owning her.

“She tastes like sin,” Aniket murmured.

“She is sin,” Vikrant growled, thrusting deeper into her mouth.

She moaned around him, body quaking, hands gripping both shelves as the pleasure overwhelmed her.

She came hard—Aniket licking her through it, Vikrant still moving in her mouth, grunting as he pulled out and painted her lips with hot, salty release.

But they weren’t done.

Aniket stood, turned her around, and bent her over the reading bench. Vikrant held her hands above her head, whispering filth in her ear as Aniket slid into her from behind—deeper, rougher, different than Vikrant’s rhythm but just as intense.

She cried out—silenced by Vikrant’s kiss.

Then they switched.

Aniket kissed her hard as Vikrant fucked her again, this time slow, claiming every inch. She was soaked, wrecked, ruined—and begging for more.

They took turns, over and over, until her legs shook and she couldn’t stand anymore.

By the time it ended, all three of them were spent—sweaty, panting, smeared with each other’s desire. Her saree was a forgotten pile on the floor. Her blouse clung to her skin.

Vikrant looked at Aniket, still fixing his glasses. “You’re not as boring as I thought.”

Aniket smirked. “I’m thorough.”

Nandini laughed weakly, lips swollen, eyes glazed.

“You two are going to kill me.”

Vikrant helped her up, kissed her cheek.

“Not yet.”

***