Page 25 of That's Too Pucking Bad

“You should leave,” I say, trying to sound firm, but my voice wavers.

He turns to face me, one brow raised, his smirk widening. “Why? You expecting your boyfriend?”

The fuck?

“How—how do you even know I—” I stutter, genuinely confused. How the hell does he know anything about me? And why the fuck is he here?

He laughs, low and quiet, and it does something weird to my stomach. I try to ignore it, but it’s hard when the soundsettles deep inside me, making my nipples hard. Jesus. I fold my arms over my chest, trying to hide it, but I know he notices.

“Who the hell are you?” I finally manage to ask, my voice sharper now.

His laugh cuts through the tension, and I hate how my body responds to it. He steps closer, way too close until his presence is swallowing up the whole room. His voice drops. “You didn’t seem too interested in my name that night. You were busy coming on my tongue.”

My entire face burns.Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Get out,” I say, adjusting my glasses to cover up my panic, pushing them up my nose even though they don’t need adjusting.

He doesn’t leave. Of course, he doesn’t. Instead, his hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin, and I freeze.

“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. I liked it. Liked watching you fall apart for me. And I know you liked being a little slut for me too.”

What the fuck.

I jerk my head away, stepping back. “Leave. Now.” I grit out, guilt and shame flooding my system all at once.

His eyes linger on me for a second longer, like he’s debating something. Then he shrugs, all casual. “Okay. But we’ll see each other again.”

“I doubt it.” My voice is stronger now, but inside, I’m shaking.

He laughs again, the sound even cockier than before. “We’ll see.” Then he turns and walks out of the room like it’s no big deal like he’s leaving because hewants to, not because I’m telling him to.

As soon as the door clicks shut, I let out a shaky breath. My whole body’s trembling, my head spinning.What the actual fuck just happened?

I sink down onto my bed, my knees suddenly too weak to hold me up.

The air’s still thick with him. His scent lingers—leather, something sharp and masculine—and I can’t shake it.

I stare blankly at the door, my mind a mess of guilt, shame, and something way darker that I don’t want to admit.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I should be calling Colin, telling him how much I miss him, how I love him. But instead, all I can think about ishim—the Red Mask Guy. His unmasked face right before mine. His touch. His voice. The way he looked at me like he wantedmore.

I shouldn’t have let him in. I shouldn’t have... But now all I can do is replay it in my head. His smirk. The cocky way he said I’d see him again. It’s like he’s still here, still in the room with me, watching.

My fingers twitch at my sides, and before I even realize what I’m doing, they slide down, under the waistband of my shorts.God. I bite my lip, eyes closing, remembering the way he made me feel, how fast he got me wet, how intense everything was when I was with him. It’s fucking insane.

My fingers circle slowly, and I arch into my hand, my breath catching as pleasure builds. It’s sick, twisted even, but I can’t stop. I picture him—the way he looked at me, the dirty, rough things he’d say if he were here.

But then,Colin.

My eyes fly open, my hand jerking out of my shorts like I’ve been burned.What the fuck am I doing?

Colin loves me. He’s good, kind, everything I think I want. We’ve been planning a future together since we were kids. I think back to our first kiss when we were twelve, standing awkwardly by the swings at the park, his face red, mine probably even worse. He was so gentle, so sweet, and when his lips brushed mine, it felt like the start of everything.

He’s always been there for me. Always.

I wipe at my face, realizing I’m crying, hating myself for it. What kind of person am I?

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