Page 36 of Downfall

That’s when he starts to back up, his feet sure as he retreats toward the bed until his ass hits the mattress. The whole time, his gaze never strays from mine.

I swallow down the lump in my throat as he slowly lowers his sweats and takes his cock in his hand.

“Dec—” I say, but trail off, turning my head to the side.

“Look at me, Skylar.”

The overhead lights are dimmed. Still, I can see everything in the room, which means if I turn my head back toward him, I’ll see exactly what he’s doing.

“No, Skylar,” he says again when I don’t immediately follow his order. “You don’t get to look away. Fucking look at me.”

Before I can think better of it, my eyes snap in his direction as if he tugged an invisible string. His pants are down near his hips, his hand gripping his hard length, dark blonde hair falling in his eyes, which have turned molten. He doesn’t even blink as he lifts his hand up to his mouth and spits in his palm, bringing it back down to wrap around himself. Saliva pools in my mouth as I take in his thick cock—it’s bigger than I remember. He thumbs the tip, massaging a bead of precum, and I look away.

“Uh-uh, Firefly. I want you to watch,” he rasps, the muscles in his arm tensing with every stroke. “This is what you do to me. This is how my body reacts to being near you.”

“I don’t⁠—”

“Sit down,” he interrupts me. Not that I even know what I was going to say.

He nods to his desk chair sitting in the corner, and my feet carry me there before my brain can catch up.

“Did you touch that pussy?”

Even though he literally has his dick in his hand, his filthy words still catch me off guard. “What?”

“When you kicked me out earlier, did you get yourself off?”

I want to lie, if only out of spite, but I’m honestly not sure which answer would piss him off more, so I stick with the truth. “No.”

“But you wanted to?” He leans back on his elbows, his shirt riding up to expose a glimpse of abs. “You still need to come, don’t you?”

Fuck, this man and his mouth are going to be the death of me. I hate the way a few words from him can flood my core, but not as much as I hate the way I nod at his question. Or the smug smirk that spreads across his face when I do.

“Spread your legs, Skylar.”

I swallow. “What?” I’m starting to think that’s the only word I can get out.

“You heard me.” His gaze is unrelenting as he lazily pumps himself. “You need to get off. So, open your legs and do it.”

There’s this moment in Romeo and Juliet after they’ve spent the night together for the first time. They hear a bird and argue about whether it’s a lark signifying the start of a new day or a nightingale enjoying the last bit of darkness. It’s that moment right at the edge of dawn when dreams are the most vivid and reality starts to blur.

At least that’s what I tell myself as I gently part my legs.

Only I would be thinking about classic literature at a time like this.

I don’t know if he can see the dampness of my underwear in the dim lighting, but his hand starts to move faster, and his lips twitch with unspoken words.

Whatever he wanted to say is abandoned as he shakes his head and simply utters, “Take them off.”

I slip the panties down over my hips, tossing them to the floor near my feet. His hand works harder, sliding roughly up and down his length, his pace increasing with each pass.

“Show me,” he says, his gravelly voice doing nothing to cool the heat coiling inside me. “Show me how you touched yourself when the tons of guys you fucked couldn’t get you there.”

He’s throwing my words in my face, calling my bluff, and I should hate him for it, but I’m too far gone. Pulling my shirt up just enough to give him a peek at my right nipple, I move my other hand down, circling two fingers over my clit.

“Shit,” he whispers, slowing down his movements as if he’s trying not to come too fast. “I can see your pussy glistening from here.”

I guess that answers that question.