Chapter One Hundred and Eight

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I blink once.

Twice.

A third time.

Not a single word leaves my parted lips. My brain goes static, unable to form a single coherent thought for several seconds as I remain frozen in my seat.

I must have not heard him right.

There's no way he could have said something so absurd.

Those are things I wish I could say and actually believe right now. But unfortunately, I know better.

I meet his icy eyes reluctantly, and they greet me with their usual intensity—as well as something else I wasn't expecting; unconcealed lust and very little patience.

Scratch that.

No patience at all. None whatsoever.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. The expression on his face says far more than any words ever could.

He's not fucking around.

He's dead serious.

Abruptly, my paralysis is lifted, and I literally start shaking at the prospect of touching him; of actually having my hand on his naked penis.

And while I'm not-so-subtly freaking the hell out, something else hits me; I have absolutely no idea how to put a condom on.

God...just shoot me now.

My brain cells spasm inside my skull from all the thoughts racing through them, unable to make sense of anything other than one fact.

I. Am. Utterly. Fucked.

I seriously have no idea what to be more mortified about—the fact that I'm pretty much being forced to put a condom over a real, live penis for the first time in my life, or the fact that I have no fucking clue whatsoever of how to even go about doing it.

I struggle to move my lips as words refuse to leave them. My hesitation is apparent. Perhaps too apparent. I wish I didn't have to say it, but I don't really have a choice.

"I...," I start to speak, but I sound so hoarse and raspy that I can't even recognize my own voice.

Another wave of jitters buzzes through my body, making my lips even more tense. I try to clear my throat a few times. And then I do it some more.

Deep breaths, Roni. Deep breaths.

Thankfully, my unreliable lungs obey me this time, inhaling long streams of air as I force the words from my mouth.

"I can't."

His icy gaze trails down and settles on my hands. "Sure you can," he counters, his tone matter-of-fact. "Contrary to popular belief, you don't need both hands to slip a condom on. Your dominant hand isn't restrained."

I shake my head. "No, I mean, I...I-I don't...I don't know how to."

He frowns. "You don't know how to what?" he demands. "Speak in complete sentences, Ramona."

I'd give him a big ole' frown of my own right now if my lips weren't so tightly wound with tension. But all I can do is breathe out in resignation.

"I-I'm...I don't know how to...put a condom on," I manage, my voice tapering off into a timid whisper. My gaze darts away from his and falls on my trembling lap, unable to meet his eyes as the last words leave my lips.

I can't even begin to describe how unbelievably embarrassed and awkward I feel. I don't know which is worse; admitting that, at twenty-four years old, I have no fucking clue how a condom actually works, or voicing said admission to a super-hot, arrogant, and partially naked man while being handcuffed to a chair and right on the verge of pissing myself.

There's a significant pause on his part, and the silence makes me feel even more awkward.

Why isn't he saying anything?

I chance a glance at him, my eyes traveling upwards to meet his again.

And I immediately wish I hadn't.

Frost has his eyes narrowed, making his already intimidating gaze even more ominous. His frown has morphed into a full blown scowl, with vertical lines forming between his thick brows and on each side of his full, distracting lips. He doesn't say anything for several seconds, and his strange bout of silence continues to stretch on, as if he's thinking of what to say.

Abruptly, his scowl softens slightly, but he still looks irritated as hell. I have absolutely no idea what the hell he's thinking. And something tells me I'm better off for it. Chances are, I don't want to know.

"Try," he finally says, breaking his silence.

My heart races at inhuman speed, and my stomach drops to my feet in disappointment at his insistence. For a minute there, I actually thought he was reconsidering this whole "condom dress fitting" thing, but obviously not. I should've known. This man is as apathetic as they come.

I try to put on a brave face in spite of my increasing anxiety. "I thought you didn't want me to try," I say with a hint of sarcasm, thinking back to what he said before.

Abruptly, he grins at that, as if he's proud that I just passed some sort of test. And it's then that I realize that it was a trick. This bastard is playing mind-games with me.

"You're absolutely right," he says with a slight nod. "I'm glad that you're paying attention. I'll be sure to remember to give you a cookie for your efforts."

In most circumstances, I would frown at such a patronizing remark. Or bitch slap the asshole who voiced it. Or both. Most likely both. But right now, I have absolutely no comeback for his douchebaggery. I can't even bring myself to roll my eyes, because, in this very particular, rare circumstance, there is a naked, circumcised penis staring me right in my face.

Frost comes closer, removing whatever little distance there was between us. I hold my breath at the dangerously close proximity of his dick, quaking in my seat and blinking rapidly behind my glasses as its imposing stature fills my sight. Without a word, he takes my free hand, splaying my rigid, shaky fingers open effortlessly and places the condom upright in the middle of my sweaty palm.

"So, don't try," he says eyeing me intently. "Do it. Now."

My mind races, and I feel myself becoming more and more frantic, no longer able to veil the extent of how anxious I am. My breathing becomes rapid and shallow, my chest heaving under the force of lungs that are now expanding and contracting at record speed. I can't even swallow, feeling saliva pool ungracefully at the corners of my mouth—a reaction I've never experienced before in my life. I don't even want to think about the possibility that it's happening for any other reason than being two seconds away from a nervous breakdown.

Seconds whip by, and my mind continues to race, considering all my options and trying to decide on a potential course of action:

-Toss the condom in his annoying, gorgeous face and tell him to put it on his damn self.

-Viciously rip the damn thing apart with my teeth and tell him to go to hell.

-"Accidentally" drop the condom.

-Politely ask him to let me go pee first.

-Beg him not to make me do it.

-Beg him not to make me do it as I cry my eyes out.

-Cry my eyes out, anyway.

-Politely ask him to let me go pee. Again.

-Lie and say I have Parkinson's disease.

-Continue staring at his naked penis indefinitely.

Yeah. I'm fucked.

I look at the condom, registering the negligible weight of it in my palm as I mentally steel myself for what I'm about to do.

And as I do, something weird happens.

Out of nowhere, and for whatever reason, there's this...this shift in energy around us; like a slow current moving through the tense air, changing the atmosphere of the room in the strangest way. It's hard to describe. All I know is I'm starting to feel a little less anxious...and a little bit more...well, I'm not exactly sure.

I maneuver the rubber ring with a single hand, bringing it between my thumb and the tips of my fingers with a little bit more certainty. I take a large deep breath, possibly the deepest I ever have in my entire life, keeping my eyes locked on his dick, avoiding eye-contact with him at all cost.

Don't overthink it, the voice in my head urges. Just imagine you're in sex ed or something. Pretend this is a plastic dildo. There's nothing to it.

Easy for you to say, I retort.

But I heed the advice, forcing myself to ignore all the sexual tension between us and treat this like a clinical task. As far as I can tell, that's my best bet at this point.

Hell, who am I kidding? It's my only bet.

So, with a shuddering breath and a large gulp, I do it; in a single, ungraceful motion, I place the ring opening over him with a shaky hand.

What I'm not prepared for is feeling the head of his dick push back against my fingertips.

I jolt in my seat at the contact, but I don't move my hand away. My heart flutters like a drunk hummingbird in my chest, and I'm completely in awe of how warm and hard he feels even through the barrier of the latex. I bite my bottom lip involuntarily, certain that I've made another nick in my already bruised flesh, but I can't be bothered to care right now. I steel my fingers as best as I can, rolling the condom down over his shaft like I actually know what I'm doing.

Just keep going. Don't think about it.

I try to avoid touching him directly, doing everything I can to keep my fingers on the condom only.

But, of course, with my very particular kind of shitty luck, that doesn't quite work.

Another wave of tremors hijack my body, oscillating into my unsure hand without my permission and making it even more unstable. My fingers move without my permission, and before I can even form another thought, they inevitably come into contact with his bare skin, grazing both sides of his naked, erect flesh.

I go abnormally still, my body paralyzed while my brain cells catch on fire as they register the incredible feel of him; deliciously hot and firm, yet fleshy and kind of swollen, in an engorged, 'full' sort of way.

It feels unbelievably vulgar and yet so...beautiful.

My eyes bulge in amazement, as if in sync with the remarkable sight in front of them. I feel some of my anxiety quietly slipping away, making room for...something else; something I can't quite put a name to. Timidity and hesitation slowly morph into curiosity and fascination and—

His dick pulses against my fingers, forcing me out of my daze as if it's reminding me that I still have a job to do.

Without any hesitation this time, I resume rolling the body of the condom down his shaft, feeling a bit more confident in what I'm doing as I relish in the alluring feel of him.

My pussy throbs viciously, throwing frustrated tantrums and pulsing with the need of an entire sex-starved continent as I watch the latex stretch to transparency over his girth. I lick at my lips involuntarily, and my mouth parts shamelessly at the thought of having it inside me...

But my confidence is short-lived, and reality comes crashing back. I can't even bring myself to swallow as I stare in shock at the sight in front of me; the condom is stretched to its capacity.

And it's only a little less than half-way down his shaft.

***

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