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Fuck, this girl… She’s killing me.
Am I really going through with this?
Sure I am. I mean, hell, why not? If she wants to watch, who am I to tell her no? And on top of that, I need to see her reaction. Need to know more about her.
I need to understand her, and see what she feels for me, because I sure as hell am starting to feel way too much for her.
Shoving down the fear, one more among the many lurking in my mind, I reach for my zipper. “You’re on. But here’s the deal. I will ask you questions, and if you don’t reply promptly and truthfully, I’ll stop.”
Even if it kills me.
“What sort of questions?” She tilts her head to the side like a bird, all colors and plumage and innocence.
Like she hasn’t just orgasmed under my thumb, moaning and thrashing.
“Take it or leave it,” I whisper, my voice rough, wondering what I’m doing, and how I think I’ll stop once I start. Self-control has never been my forte.
But she nods. “Fine. You may start.”
A royal decree, if I ever heard one.
Chuckling, I start unzipping my pants, one metal tooth, one click at a time. I stop. “Why do you go to the hospital dressed as a princess to cheer up the children?”
She smiles. “Because children need dreams and fairytales to pull through when they’re sick.”
“Have you ever been that sick?”
She hesitates, her gaze sliding away from me. Then she nods.
Oh shit.
I force myself to go on, and tug down the zipper more. “When you rub yourself at home, under the covers…do you think of me?”
That blush… “You’re taking an awfully long time with that zipper,” she says.
“Answer the question.”
“This isn’t fair.”
“How so? Do you, or don’t you think of me?”
She bites her lower lip. “Sometimes.”
I gasp, my cock weeping, straining under my hand. I didn’t expect the answer to be a yes. “Me, too,” I admit. “God, me too.”
She’s breathing hard.
It’s so tempting to just unzip my pants, grab my dick and allow myself to come, letting out all the frustration and fear of the last weeks.
So tempting to push her down and fuck her then and there. She wants me. She just said it, loud and clear.
But she kind of withdraws into herself, leaning away from me.
I wait.
After a long moment, her lashes lift, her gaze going back to where my hand is resting on top of my hard-on.
“Ask me,” she whispers.
