Page 7 of My Date With A Rubber Duckie

There’s something kind of sweet about him. He seems uncomfortable about the whole situation, and that makes me feel better about it. I don’t know what to make of this whole rubber-duckie-man thing, but I don’t find it as hard to believeas I should. Maybe I’ve read too many shifter books. And had too many fantasies like the one I had in the bath.

My fantasy just became real, and it has me seriously turned on. My normally soft shirt feels abrasive against my hard nipples as I shift on the bed. Thinking about what he saw earlier has me slick between my thighs and aching to be touched.

“You…” He groans. “You’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever met and when you came… fuck. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You have no idea how much I wanted to touch you.” He groans, then looks at the bedroom door. “I was trying to sneak out so that I could come back fully dressed and create some excuse to see you again. I really didn’t want to freak you out like this.”

I scoot closer. “I’m not freaked out.”

He gives me an incredulous look.

“I should be,” I concede. “But I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

I shake my head and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You really think I’mstunning?”

“Fuck, stunning isn’t a strong enough word for what you are. You’re… you’re…”

As he struggles to find words, I rest my hand on top of his hand on the pillow. “Show me.”

His Adam’s Apple bobs. “Show you?”

I chuckle lightly. “Yes, that’s what I said. Show me what I do to you.” I accompany my words with a light tug on his wrist.

He gulps, and the pillow drops to the floor.

Woah. He may turn into a little Rubber Duckie, but there’s nothing little about what I'm looking at now. His hard cock twitches, bouncing up against his stomach, which hollows and flexes. I’m still touching his wrist, fingers just a few inches from his impressive length.

“Touch yourself.” I lick my lips. “It’s only fair. You got to watch me. So, I should get to watch you. Tit for tat, right?”

“You want to watch me jerk off?”

“You like to repeat whatI say, don’t you?”

“I’m just having a hard time processing all this. It’s… a bit too good to be true.” His goofy smile spreads warmth through my chest, and for a minute we just look at each other. There’s something about him that makes me feel safe, an instant connection I’ve never experienced before and didn’t think actually happened outside of romance books.

“Do it,” I goad, letting go of his wrist.

With his eyes on me, he drags his hand down his flat stomach, circling his fist around the base of his cock. There’s something insanely hot about the sight of his masculine fist wrapped around his pulsing shaft. His breath picks up under my gaze, and his hand flexes.

Slow and steady, he moves up and down his length. His eyes skim over my body. I’m only wearing an oversized t-shirt I threw on after my bath. It barely covers the crease of my thighs and, with no panties, I lean back, bend my knees, and open my legs for him.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Maybe I’m just dreaming. Because, yeah, this is every fantasy I’ve ever had.

His groan is a deep hum. His hand moves faster when I trace my pussy with my forefinger. I’m dripping wet, so I bring the coated digit to my lips and suck.

“Fuck, how did I get here?” He stops stroking himself and just stares at me. “You’re incredible.” Moving to the foot of the bed, his knees press against the mattress for support, my toes barely brushing his legs. I want to be closer to him, want to touch him, but I don’t want to stop what we’re doing. I’ve never watched a man masturbate before. It’s surprisingly erotic.

I press the soles of my feet into his thighs, needing some contact with him. He pushes back, leaning his weight into me in a way that shoves my knees into my chest. His pace speeds up in response. The grunts he makes are entirely indecent.

“Come again for me, little bubble. I want to memorize how you lookwhen you pop.” He releases a harsh grunt as he thrusts forward into his hand.

I bring my finger back to my center, taking my time as I drag it through my wetness, slipping it inside before teasing my clit. I add a second finger, pressing on that rough bundle of nerves as I watch him.

He curses and slows down. “I can’t hold off much longer.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, fuck yes, I do. I’m not coming without you, bubble.” He drops both hands to the bed beside my hips and leans over me. “So get those fingers in there and make yourself come like you did in the bath, all fast and pretty." He sighs like he's remembering it, his hot breath hitting my lips. "Were you thinking about me when you made yourself come?”

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