Page 78 of Damsel in Disguise

This is the addictive excitement of anticipation. I don’t even know how volatile Ariella truly is.

This moment could fracture into a thousand different outcomes—some of them ending with me gutted open for the sheer stupidity of allowing a stranger this close.

I lie here, feigning vulnerability for the thrill of it.

A small part of it says—just as it did for the past nights—it can be anyone in disguise as her. But I know this is none other than Ariella Keinston.

So I’m letting this happen. Night after night, I let her slip into my space, let her watch me, let her exist this close—just to chase whatever fucked-up satisfaction this gives me.

She stops beside the bed, then lowers herself to her knees.

Slowly, she bites down on the leather of her gloves, tugging them off with her teeth in a way that’s far more suggestive than it has any right to be.

The sight alone is turning me on. I’m one step away from flipping this entire situation—pinning her down, binding her wrists, forcing control back to where it belongs, and shoving my cock down her throat.

That’s when her now-bare hands reach for me, nails dragging lightly across my chest—so gentle it’s almost nothing, yet it lands igniting sparks against my skin.

My breath nearly stumbles. I force it back into rhythm, force my body to stay under control even as I can feel my cock roaring back to life.

Her touch travels downward, tracing my ab-lines. Fingertips grazing over muscle, nails barely pressing, mapping me out, taking all the time in the world.

Muscles flex under her touch before I can stop it. It’s a minor reflex action, but a mistake nonetheless.

She stills instantly, studying my face.

Fuck. I stay just as I am. Forcing my eyes shut would only draw more attention and create suspicion.

Within seconds, she resumes dragging her nails lower with that same unhurried precision.

I release a slow, measured breath, careful to keep my chest steady and my body loose beneath her touch.

The blanket shifts next.

She lifts it just enough to slip beneath, still on her knees, draping the fabric over her upper body to shield herself—an instinctive attempt at concealment that only makes the act more illicit.

I track every movement through the dim outline, feeling the subtle fumbling of her hands beneath the covers until warm breaths brush against my skin.

I’m tempted to catch her right away just like I initially planned. However, I wait for a better opportunity.

Each exhale ghosts over my lower abdomen, teasing me in a way that feels far too personal for something so subtle.

I feel Ariella freeze. She’s found me exactly how I intended—bare, exposed, already hard beneath the sheets.

A slow smirk curls in my mind. Tonight wasn’t an accident. I dropped to bed naked on purpose.

She doesn’t waste any more moments to wrap her hand around my girth.

The first drag of her tongue starts from the base upward, following the length of me, feeling the throbbing veins, until it reaches the tip. Her tongue swirls around the flared head, then goes back down for another swipe.

My hands clench at the innocent act, fighting the urge to grab her nape and force the length all the way down her throat.

The next lick starts underneath. The velvety texture of her tongue runs repeatedly over my balls. Is she testing my damn limits?

A rough, silent inhale catches in my throat as her tongue glides along the sensitive underside, exactly where I wanted it.

My hand twitches, almost flying to my mouth to trap the groan that’s clawing its way up. I trap it in, not letting it escape.

She continues like that—unhurried, exploratory—licking me as if she’s savoring something sweet, something she has no right to indulge in.