5. When I squeeze you

5

When I squeeze you

Anita

I ’m barely drifting to sleep when my eyes fly open, some instinct telling me something is wrong. I sit up, look around, and scream.

Haley comes running in with a frying pan clutched in her hand. She’s wearing an oversized sports jersey. Her hair is a tangled mess, and her eyes are only half open.

“Are you okay?” She flips the light switch and swings the pan around, swiveling her head in every direction. “What’s going on?”

“I thought I saw a man in my room.” I clutch the comforter to my chest.

Haley steps forward and a loud squeak makes us both let out piercing shrieks. She bends down and picks up my Rubber Duckie. “Is this yours?”

My eyebrows pull together, and I nod. “I swear I left it on the bathroom counter.”

After tossing Duckie at me, she stalks to the closet, then the bathroom, checking every place someone could hide. “There’s no one here.”

“Um, sorry,” I say, feeling sheepish. I didn’t even get up and help her look, still shaking from the adrenaline. “It must have been a dream.”

She grunts and heads out of the room. I can’t sleep after that. Instead, to calm down, I spend the rest of the night talking to my Duckie. I tell him about the nightmares I used to have as a child and how my mom used to always make me a blanket fort whenever it rained. I tell him about my first job and my first kiss and my secret fear of cats.

The sun comes up, but I have nowhere to be today, so I stay in bed with my little yellow friend. Haley clanks around in the kitchen for a while, but then the front door slams, and I know she’s left for work.

“Well, Duckie, I guess I should try to sleep.” I yawn, finally feeling tired, too tired to keep my eyes open. My body feels heavy, like it’s sinking. I close my eyes. My breathing evens out.

“Sleep well, bubble,” a man’s voice whispers, achingly soft.

“Mmhmm.” I roll over, happy to do just that, and then it registers with my brain. A man. In my apartment.

I shoot straight up. There, standing at the foot of the bed, staring at me, is a naked man. He’s holding one of my little throw pillows over his groin. It covers his important bits, but doesn’t cover the thickness of his thighs, the way his hip bone juts out, the V that lifts from his groin to his defined abs. He clears his throat, drawing my attention up. He’s got the most beautiful yellow-blonde hair I’ve ever seen. It’s swept to one side in a way that makes me want to run my fingers through it. He’s gorgeous.

No. Not gorgeous. He’s naked in my bedroom! What. The. Actual. Fuck?!

Instinctively, I reach for Duckie, the closest thing I have to throw at him. But Duckie isn’t there. “Did you steal it?”

He frowns. I pick up the lamp, ready to throw it at him. “Did you steal my Rubber Duckie?!”

That probably isn’t the question I should be asking right now, but it’s all I can think about.

The man holds up his hands. “Woah, wait, it’s okay. I didn’t steal anything, and I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“What the hell are you doing in here?!”

“Um… you… kind of brought me here.”

“No. I didn’t.”

He smirks, then vanishes. I tentatively creep forward, head turning every which way until I’m close enough to the edge of the bed to look down. There, on the floor, right where the man was standing, is my little yellow Rubber Duckie.

Just as I’m about to pick it up, the duckie is gone, and the man springs up in its place, grabbing the pillow as he rises and holding it over his goods.

I tumble backwards, barely catching myself on my forearms. “You? How? What just happened?”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand while keeping the pillow in place with the other. “Yeah, so, you see, you kind of did bring me here.”

“ You're my Rubber Duckie?” I blink and shake my head in disbelief. “My Rubber Duckie… is you ?”

“Yeah.” He laughs, almost like he’s nervous. “Look, I didn’t want to be a creeper, I tried not to look, but I couldn’t exactly—”

It takes me a solid couple of seconds to figure out what he’s talking about. “The bath!”

“Um, yeah. I really am sorry.”

“You… watched me?”

“Couldn’t look away.” There’s something almost shy in his tone that’s kind of endearing.

This is a lot to take in. But I find I’m not at all repulsed by the idea of this man watching me. I mean, it’s like my ridiculous fantasy just became a reality. The laugh I let out borders on manic.

He fidgets with the pillow and a little half smile toys at his lips. “You said you liked being watched.”

Composing myself, I bite my lip and give him an appreciative appraisal. This is strange, fucking bizarre even, but… “Did you enjoy watching me?”

His head rolls back, and he puffs out a breath of air as he looks up at the ceiling. “You have no idea how much.”

“Tell me,” I ask, nervous in a different way than I should be right now. I should call the cops, chase him out of my apartment with a broom or something, but instead I’m moving closer.

There’s something kind of sweet about him. He seems uncomfortable about the whole situation, and that makes me feel better about it. I don’t know what to make of this whole rubber-duckie-man thing, but I don’t find it as hard to believe as I should. Maybe I’ve read too many shifter books. And had too many fantasies like the one I had in the bath.

My fantasy just became real, and it has me seriously turned on. My normally soft shirt feels abrasive against my hard nipples as I shift on the bed. Thinking about what he saw earlier has me slick between my thighs and aching to be touched.

“You…” He groans. “You’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever met and when you came… fuck. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You have no idea how much I wanted to touch you.” He groans, then looks at the bedroom door. “I was trying to sneak out so that I could come back fully dressed and create some excuse to see you again. I really didn’t want to freak you out like this.”

I scoot closer. “I’m not freaked out.”

He gives me an incredulous look.

“I should be,” I concede. “But I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

I shake my head and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You really think I’m stunning?”

“Fuck, stunning isn’t a strong enough word for what you are. You’re… you’re…”

As he struggles to find words, I rest my hand on top of his hand on the pillow. “Show me.”

His Adam’s Apple bobs. “Show you?”

I chuckle lightly. “Yes, that’s what I said. Show me what I do to you.” I accompany my words with a light tug on his wrist.

He gulps, and the pillow drops to the floor.

Woah. He may turn into a little Rubber Duckie, but there’s nothing little about what I'm looking at now. His hard cock twitches, bouncing up against his stomach, which hollows and flexes. I’m still touching his wrist, fingers just a few inches from his impressive length.

“Touch yourself.” I lick my lips. “It’s only fair. You got to watch me. So, I should get to watch you. Tit for tat, right?”

“You want to watch me jerk off?”

“You like to repeat what I say, don’t you?”

“I’m just having a hard time processing all this. It’s… a bit too good to be true.” His goofy smile spreads warmth through my chest, and for a minute we just look at each other. There’s something about him that makes me feel safe, an instant connection I’ve never experienced before and didn’t think actually happened outside of romance books.

“Do it,” I goad, letting go of his wrist.

With his eyes on me, he drags his hand down his flat stomach, circling his fist around the base of his cock. There’s something insanely hot about the sight of his masculine fist wrapped around his pulsing shaft. His breath picks up under my gaze, and his hand flexes.

Slow and steady, he moves up and down his length. His eyes skim over my body. I’m only wearing an oversized t-shirt I threw on after my bath. It barely covers the crease of my thighs and, with no panties, I lean back, bend my knees, and open my legs for him .

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Maybe I’m just dreaming. Because, yeah, this is every fantasy I’ve ever had.

His groan is a deep hum. His hand moves faster when I trace my pussy with my forefinger. I’m dripping wet, so I bring the coated digit to my lips and suck.

“Fuck, how did I get here?” He stops stroking himself and just stares at me. “You’re incredible.” Moving to the foot of the bed, his knees press against the mattress for support, my toes barely brushing his legs. I want to be closer to him, want to touch him, but I don’t want to stop what we’re doing. I’ve never watched a man masturbate before. It’s surprisingly erotic.

I press the soles of my feet into his thighs, needing some contact with him. He pushes back, leaning his weight into me in a way that shoves my knees into my chest. His pace speeds up in response. The grunts he makes are entirely indecent.

“Come again for me, little bubble. I want to memorize how you look when you pop.” He releases a harsh grunt as he thrusts forward into his hand.

I bring my finger back to my center, taking my time as I drag it through my wetness, slipping it inside before teasing my clit. I add a second finger, pressing on that rough bundle of nerves as I watch him.

He curses and slows down. “I can’t hold off much longer.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, fuck yes, I do. I’m not coming without you, bubble.” He drops both hands to the bed beside my hips and leans over me. “So get those fingers in there and make yourself come like you did in the bath, all fast and pretty." He sighs like he's remembering it, his hot breath hitting my lips. "Were you thinking about me when you made yourself come?”

“Yes, I… I… imagined you were alive. Watching me, just like this.” I drop back, unable to support myself on one hand anymore. Staring at the ceiling, I work two fingers over my clit, rubbing back and forth at a furious pace. I look up and see his face contorted like he’s in pain. He’s got one hand still braced on the bed, but his other hand is back on his cock.

He licks his lips, and I lick mine. He gasps, and I groan. He grins, and I smile right back at him.

“Come for me,” he whispers.

“Only if you do, too, Duckie.”

Like a dam breaking, he loses control, and hot ropes of cum hit my thigh. His mouth falls open in an expression of such pure euphoria it sucks the air right out of my lungs and sends me over the edge. The tension bursts and I’m awash in ecstasy.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs before bending over and kissing my knee.