Page 113 of The Pucking Wrong Man

Don’t think about his dick in someone, I hissed at myself, a little nervous I was going to squeak out an accidental moan because I was so turned on.

Even from here, I could see his swollen, glistening head, the thick veins along the length, the way his hands were closed around the rigid flesh...my mouth was watering for a taste.

Who even was I right now? He squeezed and pulled at his cock, sliding it from root to tip as he fucked his hand.

I pressed my thighs together, resisting the urge to touch myself because despite all the lines I’d already crossed just from watching this...that would be the line to stay far away from.

His ass flexed as his fist pumped up and down in long strokes, and the low groan that came from his lips had me taking a few more steps into the room—as if I just couldn’t help it.

And then his head turned, and he was staring...right at me.

I was frozen, my gaze locked with his. This was the time for me to run, but it was as if my feet had sunk into concrete and I’d lost the ability to use them.

Camden didn’t stop.

He bit down on that full, sultry bottom lip of his as his fist sped up.

I’d never be able to watch porn, because I was confident no video could ever measure up to this.

His chest was broad and defined, tattoos stretched across his muscles. The water glistened on his skin, highlighting every curve and dip, every sinew and vein that snaked its way across his torso like a map of untamed wilderness I longed to conquer.

Camden ran his free hand down his abs, a washboard of rippling perfection.

I wanted him. I wanted to touch his body. I wanted that perfect dick.

Maybe it wasn’t a want. Maybe it was a need.

There was a dare in his gaze. A dare to stay. A dare to go. I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t move.

He groaned again, his eyes growing hooded and dark, a faint blush to his cheeks that I was sure had nothing to do with the heat of the shower.

My hands were trembling at my sides. I’d never desired something like this before. I’d never let myself feel the kind of lust that burned your insides and put a glitch in your brain.

I wasn’t human anymore. I didn’t know what I was.

I just knew that I wanted Camden James with everything in me.

His gaze never strayed away from mine. I watched as his movements sped up, and his breaths came out in gasps. A moan slipped from his perfect lips when his body began to jerk.

“Anastasia,” he breathed as shots of milky, white cum painted the glass in front of him. He fucked his hand through his orgasm, the head of his cock swollen and hot looking as more ropes of his seed spilled onto the shower floor.

We stayed like that, staring at each other, long after his orgasm had ended, neither of us saying anything.

Speaking of saying anything. Had I just imagined that? Had he really said my name as he came?

That thought finally broke me from the spell I’d been under. I forced myself out of his room, sprinting down the hallway, ignoring my leg screaming at me in protest.

He didn’t call after me or come rushing down the hall.

And a part of me was disappointed about that.

Once safely ensconced in my room, I locked the door behind me, leaning against it as I tried to gain control of myself. This was madness. I prided myself on control. I forced my body into submission every day, pushing myself past its limits to get what I wanted out of it while I danced.

But I couldn’t control myself right then. I couldn’t stop myself from crossing the room to my bed and sliding onto the sheets that smelled like him. I couldn’t stop myself from yanking my soaking wet panties down to my knees and allowing my fingers to trace through my sopping, slick folds. I couldn’t stop myself from pressing on my clit until pleasure was surging through me.

And I couldn’t stop myself from picturing Camden the entire time that I made myself come.

The biggest thing that I didn’t stop myself from doing?

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