Page 26 of Who The Hell Are You?

“H-how did you get into my house? You can’t do that.”

He chuckles again and shushes me, stroking my jaw, running his hand down my stomach to the waistband of my jeans. “Don't worry about that. Let me give you your reward.”

I really must have lost my mind, because I preen. If I was an animal I'd be pawing at him, trying to burrow closer and the feeling takes my breath away. I'm hard as a fucking rock, it's painful.

Before I can say anything–or come to my senses–he turns me around, and all I can see is the plastic white of his mask reflecting off the street lights glow. It's terrifying and my blood sings. My nerves light up, my entire body turns to jelly and it's me who presses our bodies together.

He's wearing a black t-shirt that looks like mine, and I press my face into it, smelling my familiar lavender detergent.

“You're like a needy cat.” His words make me flush and I tuck my head lower, pressing my cheek against his chest. I want to bite him. His finger presses under my chin and turns my face up, until I'm looking into the black pits of the mask's eye sockets. “Don't feel embarrassed, it's a fucking turn on.”

“Fuck you.” I grit, but he chuckles again and strokes the side of my jaw with his thumb.

Suddenly he turns us, pressing me against the door and almost extends himself until he's towering over me. Like when he had me outside Grace's bedroom, I don't fight. Hell, my hands this time are gripping his waist trying to get him closer. His chest presses mine, but he's purposely keeping his hips away from me.

I whine, instantly feeling ashamed. My brain protests with me to let go, but in the same thought to get away from this masked man. I was just pressed all over Miles in the club, I left him without saying goodbye and now I’m pinned against my door. It’s a mind fuck I don’t understand, especially when my entire form relaxes into the press of his body.

His mask tilts down and I think he's observing our bodies together. “Do you want me to touch you?” He asks.

I don't say anything and slowly he drifts his hips to mine, my fingers making the black t-shirt ride up from my grip. That little pale line of skin has my full attention, until he pulls back.

“W-why? Don't stop.” Apparently not only am I needy, but I'm not above begging.

“Do you want me to touch you, Sweetheart?”

“Yes, fuck. God. I want you to touch me.”

He leans forward until I can feel the plastic of his mask against my nose. “Not god, your fucking awakening.”

There's no more waiting. It's like my verbal confirmation gives him free reign to indulge himself. Grabbing my hips, he digs his nails into the flesh under my t-shirt and with a hiss I feel the firm bulge in his pants press into mine. Dragging himself up and then down my length, my head tilts back against the wood. I can't help but close my eyes. The pleasure from the friction alone shoots up my spine and spreads through my entire body.

“Look at me whilst I touch you.” The distorted voice rumbles and I obey, blinking up into the mask.

Moving his hips away, he removes one hand from my hip and snakes it down the front of my jeans, before popping open the button which has me gulping. The movement of my adams-apple must catch his attention, because the mask tilts eerily to the side. Slowly he pulls down the zipper, the noise snapping the quiet and then his hand is sliding into my boxers. Considering I've never had another man touch me, there is zero freak out from me when his palm meets my dick.

“Fucccccck.” I feel dizzy, hitting my head against the door. His other hand runs up my body until it's behind my head, massaging at the spot in my hair that met wood. His hand wraps around my shaft and he starts to work me over, up to the tip where he runs his fingers over the precum I'm already leaking, and back down to my base.

“Take my dick out.” His voice crackles and I wish I could hear his real one. I kinda don't want to though. The mystery of who's getting me off has me nearly coming in my underwear.

Slowly I peel my hands from his waist and undo his fly. His black skinny jeans are a tight fit against his lean figure, but I get them down and stare at his black boxers. Not necessarily his underwear, but the weeping tip of his penis. It's peaking out of his waistband and unexpectedly my mouth waters. That's…a new reaction.

Slipping them down his thighs, I bite my lip and even though it's distorted, I hear his breathy moan. He's just as affected as I am, and that confidence allows me to take his long length in my hand. I do what I think will feel good, what I’d like, so I lean forward and let spit drip off my tongue onto his dick.

“Fuck Baby, that's so hot.” He says, his broken moans crackling behind his mask as I work my hand up and down. I keep my fist tight and when I look down at my own dick, I see my hips are thrusting into the hole he's made with his hand.

“It feels so good.” I breathe out and his free hand moves loose curls off my forehead, cupping the side of my face.

“I know Sweetheart, you're doing so well. So good. Do you want me to make it feel even better?”

“Yes–yes.”

Running his palm over my tip which has caused a mess, he moves my hand and positions himself closer. The moment our dicks touch, I'm fucking gone.

Deceased.

His hand is just large enough to wrap around us both, and when he starts to move, I see stars. My skin must be beetroot red, because I feel my entire body flush, my toes curl, my balls draw tight and I start to pant nonsense.

“Oh my god, I'm fucking coming. You're–you, I'm coming. Keep going, don't you fucking stop. Don't you dare stop, I'll fucking end you. It feels so–so…”