Page 8 of Man On

"I didn't?—"

"Touch yourself like I was."

My eyes feel like they might pop out of their sockets at his words. I blink rapidly, processing what he's asking me to do. No, not asking. Commanding.

The bulge in my boxers twitches, and I have to look away from the salacious grin that slowly spreads across his face. It's like he can see inside my thoughts.

"N-no."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

"Liar."

His audacity astounds me, and I turn away from the intensity of his glare. He's still facing me, leaning towards me.

"I don't do that."

He scoffs. "Everyone does it."

"N-no they don't. I don't. It's wr?—"

"Put your hand on it."

When I don't move, I hear him shift, and I flinch, worried he'll come over here. I peek over my shoulder to find him leaning towards me. He looks me right in the eye, the contact scorching my retinas. It makes my brain feel hot, and I expect there should be steam coming out of my ears like an old cartoon. When I don't move to obey him, he stands, taking a few menacing steps toward me.

"Do it, Lane."

I don't like hearing him say my name. The name I gave myself, to make myself new. I was supposed to start over, and he ruined me the first chance he got.

"Fuck off," I snap, surprising myself by using the curse without stuttering. "You can't make me do anything."

"Wanna bet?" he threatens, crossing his arms over his chest. When I still don't move to obey him, he jerks forward, and my hand instinctively flies to my crotch to block him.

"Don't touch me!" I say quickly, my voice cracking. Please don't touch me. I wouldn't be able to stand it.

His eyebrows raise, and once again, I have the distinct impression he knows what I'm thinking. That he knows why I don't want to do this. With him.

Noah nods towards my hand, and I realize with dismay that I'm squeezing myself through my boxers and the sheet. His chin lifts, silently commanding me to keep going. With my eyes locked on his, I press down on my erection and slowly stroke myself.

"Feels good, right?" he asks, his voice husky.

Even through my boxers and the sheet, the pressure does feel good, but I fight to keep my features neutral. I refuse to react, to give him anything to use against me. His lips smooth out into a soft, knowing grin. It makes him look even more dangerous.

Reaching forward, he pinches the edge of the sheet and pulls it off me before I can grab hold of it, and I'm left in nothing but my boxer shorts. My sleep pants, t-shirt, and socks are all balled at the bottom of the bed, discarded in the effort to cool my overheated body.

All of my exposed skin burns, as if Noah were a bonfire and I'm sitting too close. But there's nowhere to go to get more space. I'm pressed against the wall, as far from him as I can go, pretending that I'm not a moth drawn to the flames.

Noah takes a small step back, and I relax a little. When he doesn't relax, his hard stare not moving from me, I slowly return my hand to the massive erection I couldn't avoid even if I wanted to.

With every tentative squeeze and stroke, I fall deeper into temptation. I'm Eve, biting into the apple, promised all the knowledge in the world. Noah is nothing more than the serpent, with his heated glare pinning me to the bed.

"Take it out," he says, his voice low, almost a whisper.

"Noah—"

"Take. It. Out."

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