Page 24 of Don't You Pucking Dare

"You don’t make the rules, Duchess. I do, unfortunately." He drags his fingertips on my face, causing a sensation I do not welcome. He grips my knee that I’m using to try to get him off. "If you don’t fucking stop, I can’t promise I can control myself."

"Don’t you fucking dare, or I will scream!" I yell.

He laughs. Actually laughs as his hand covers my mouth forcefully. I stare at the eyes that haunt me as I gasp for air. I can’t fucking breathe.

He seethes, "The only thing you’ll be screaming… is my name. And Duchess, don’t fucking dare me."

The air between us stiffens. And I’m scared.

"Now you’re going to be a good girl and listen to me." He releases me, walking back to the closet. And I’m thankful he has his back turned because a tear slips out of my eye. I quickly wipe it away and take a deep breath. I pull my knees into my chest. I won’t let this asshole see me crying.

"Take off your pants," he demands.

I gasp, speechless. "No! No fucking way."

He turns around. "Do it or I’ll do it for you. You pick."

"You can’t be fucking serious?" I snap.

I can tell his jaw clenches by the intensity of his eyes. "I’m dead fucking serious, Duchess. Take off your pants."

I unbutton them reluctantly, deciding that I’m not going to cry. From the looks of it, that’s what a sick fuck like him would want.

"I’m not a virgin––"

"Don’t fucking tempt me, Duchess. Take them off."

I stand, pulling them down.

He sits at my desk, flicking his head to my bed. "Get on your bed."

I leave my pants on Kiah’s side, noticing the broken shelf and her shit everywhere. I hop onto my bed as he tilts his head.

"You still have your panties on. Take them off now."

I suck in a shaky breath and pull them off. I toss them near my pants, but he catches them with his hand and shoves them in his pocket.

"Now you’re going to finger fuck yourself like I asked, and you’re going listen this time like a good girl."

I squeeze my legs together. "Do I still get my journal back?"

He shrugs. "Depends if you listen."

"That’s not fair."

"Life’s not fair, baby. Lean back and open your legs."

I still, unable to move. Instead of demanding me, he walks over. My heart is racing so fast, and I actually might cry now that he’s this close and I’m beyond exposed. He reaches for me, but I pull away. Instead of getting mad, he caresses my face. A part of me wants to rip that fucking shirt off his face so I can know what he looks like, but I’m scared of what my punishment would be if I did it.

"I’m not touching you, Duchess. Relax."

That confirmation does make me relax… just a little. He grabs my shoulders and helps me to lay back. Then he pulls my legs down, staring at my thighs. He lifts my shirt, exposing my pussy. He opens my legs gently, meeting my eyes a few times. I’m watching him closely, terrified. He grabs my hand and takes my two fingers, aiming for my clit.

"Relax. You’re so fucking tense."

"Because this isn’t okay," I mutter, starting to feel good. It’s my fingers, but it’s his hand adding the pressure, making it feel better than it should.

"How is this not okay, Duchess? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the garden, and then you send me that rude fucking email. What else am I supposed to do?"

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