Page 25 of Don't You Pucking Dare

I stare at his eyes. "Take off the mask."

"No." He releases my hand, retreating. "Keep going."

Fuck, there he goes. I scared him off.

I watch his back, studying his body so that when tomorrow comes, I know exactly who he is. His arms are long, his hips are slim in comparison to his shoulders, and from the party, I know he has wavy brown hair. Right now it’s covered by my black shirt tied tightly around his head.

He takes a seat on my computer desk chair and leans back, unbuttoning his pants.

I sit up. "What’re you doing?"

"Making it equal. Lay down and touch yourself before I change my mind."

I inhale as I lean back and watch as he unzips his black jeans. He pulls it down a bit, revealing his black boxers underneath. He lifts his shirt, revealing abs and tattoos on his ribs. Holy hell. My mouth goes dry as he pulls out his dick. His really hot big dick and strokes it.

"See what you do to me, Duchess? Don’t expect me to stay away."

I watch as his large hand pumps his length, and the view is ridiculously fucking hot. A masked man dressed in black who broke into my room is now masturbating at the sight of me. I have no idea who this John Smith is, but it’s sexy as fuck.

I start rubbing circles on my clit, finding the spot that’s going to help me relax.

"That’s it, baby," he praises. "Fuck, you’re perfect. Such a good fucking girl."

My pussy is climbing after those words leave his mouth. I wonder what his lips look like. Those eyes are enough for me to know I’m wanted, but his dick is pure confirmation I turn him on. I stare at his dick, wondering what he would do if I walked over and sat on it. The image of that makes my hips grind my own fucking fingers. My pussy feels better than it should right now.

"Just like that, Duchess. Keep fucking going."

And I come undone. But it’s not a good orgasm. My body just shakes, but mentally I’m not in it.

"Again," he demands.

"What?" I gasp, shaking my head. "I just orgasmed."

He stops stroking himself. "Bullshit. Again."

"I swear to God, I just orgasmed. It just––"

"Again, Duchess."

"I don’t know if I can go again."

He walks over, leaning over the bed. I feel his hard dick against my leg, and my vagina is pulsating at the closeness.

"Try," he demands.

"I can’t help that it wasn’t a good one. It happens sometimes," I mutter, wondering if he’s two seconds from slipping inside of me.

He stands and says, "Lift your shirt up."

"What? Are you––"

"Duchess, I’m not fucking you. Not yet. Just lift up your shirt."

I lift my shirt as he starts fucking his hand. It’s a sight to see. I’ve had sex before, but I’ve never had a man jerk off in front of me. The size of his dick is intimidating.

"Slide your ass down here."

I scoot down so that my body is under him. The image of this will forever be stained in my memory.

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