Page 25 of I Fing Dare You

I swallow, my throat feeling dry, and my saliva, thicker than molasses. I part my knees, praying he’ll be content with this humiliation.

“Aren’t you a good girl?” he asks, his right hand moving from the bed to my knee, then sliding across my thigh.

I tremble under his touch. “Jason?”

“Yes?”

“Please, stop.” I don’t remember ever begging anyone before. It doesn’t feel good, but I have to.

“All right.” He withdraws his hand. “Do it for me.”

I blink in confusion.

“Touch yourself, and I won’t.”

My eyes widen.

“Come on, Nadia. Don’t tell me you’re unfamiliar with masturbation. It’d be pathetic.”

I feel my cheeks burn under my skin. “The only pathetic thing is you having to resort to blackmail for a cheap thrill.”

Jason is delighted. His hand moves to my face and I flinch, expecting a blow. It slows down and his fingertips reach out to graze my lower lip. “That mouth.” He grins. “Hasn’t it gotten you into enough trouble today?”

I want to bite his thumb off. Instead, I glare.

“Touch yourself or I will.”

His thumb is still running along my lower lip, unsettling me. I must not have moved fast enough for him because he climbs on top of my bed and his left hand grips my hip.

A jolt freezes my skin under his touch, and I slap his hand away. “Don’t! I…I’ll do it.”

I shove a hand into my pants and rub my clit manically, my face red with fury and embarrassment.

Still hovering right on top of me, Jason stares at my hand for what feels like an eternity. Then he throws his head back and laughs. “Gosh, you’re terrible at this.” He can’t stop laughing. Could this situation get any more twisted? “I don’t know whether you’re ruining the show for my benefit or you just don’t know what to do with your pussy. Either way, you had your chance, cupcake.”

Without another warning, he grabs the fabric of my pajama shorts between my legs and rips them almost effortlessly.

I’m not wearing anything underneath.

I close my knees, but Jason pushes them apart. “Let me show you.” Eyes staying on me, he moves one of his hands between my legs. I close them again, and this time, he lets me. He’s exactly where he wants to be: right at the apex of my thigh.

His fingers slide over my flesh, softly, slowly, barely brushing against my clit as they pass over it. “That’s it. Relax for me.”

I glare at him. “Fuck you.”

“Was that an invitation?”

I shut my mouth. If he was right about one thing today, it’s that it’s gotten me into enough trouble.

I’m determined to show no reaction to his ministrations. His fingers are light and teasing, and then his thumb presses on my clit and rubs it softly, slowly.

Oh.

Oh.

My eyes are wide, my heart, racing.

He wasn’t wrong about another point. I wasn’ttryingto masturbate well for him, but even by myself, I’ve never been very good at it with my fingers—I much prefer my vibrator.

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