Chapter Fourteen
Nixie
“You’re not close enough,” Alex complains through my computer’s speaker. “I paid for private time, and I can’t even see any details. Like, where’s your clit? Can barely make it out.”
Holding in a frustrated sigh, I attempt to angle the camera closer. But seriously, what the hell is with this man? He’s not my fucking gynecologist. The clock in the corner shows that we only have ten minutes left, and I pray for it to speed up. This session has been awful.
“That’s better, I guess. Now, do you have a knotted vibrator?” He lets out a low moan, and the slapping gets quicker.
“I don’t,” I lie, knowing that I’m not nearly wet enough to take a knot without extreme discomfort. All his whining and sniveling have made this my least enjoyable time on NightNudes yet. Everything about Alex has made me miss 88. My heart yearns to hear his honeyed voice.
“Fine, a normal one then. Stick it in your pussy. I wanna see your dirty little cunt stretch for my big dick.” Reaching over, I grab my vibrator as slowly as possible, then bring it to my clit, watching nothing but the time ticking down.
“Bitch, you better not be stalling,” he grumbles.
I’m pretty sure Alex is a beta. He doesn’t have the commanding voice most Alphas do, nor does he use standard Alpha tells.
Instead of calling me omega, he’s more likely to use the words bitch or whore, speaking down to me.
He also hasn’t mentioned his knot once, so I’m guessing he doesn’t have one.
But it doesn’t matter if he’s an Alpha, beta, or alien because money is money.
Keeping food on the table and a roof over my son’s head is the reason I’m here.
Whether it’s this client’s attitude or that I’ve met my scent-match, showing my body to men feels wrong now. So cheap, but with no other jobs on the horizon, it is what it is.
“I want to see it stretch,” he demands, but I’m dry as a fucking desert. “If you don’t, I’m gonna complain to the site and have them refund me for the private session.”
His threat makes me gulp. No one’s complained about me yet.
Do they really give refunds? Better check the fine print.
A shiver of revulsion runs through me, and I bring the large blue vibrator down to my core, slowly slipping it inside, although it stings.
Tears gather in my eyes, and I hiss at the slight pain.
“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” he moans and, with a loud grunt, finds his release. Barf. The timer dings, signaling the end of the private session. I yank the vibrator away from my pussy and pull my silky green sheet up to cover myself. Guilt and shame wash through me.
“All right, well, that’s all the time we have today,” I say, proud of how steady my voice comes across.
“If you wanted to really improve your customer service, you would give me five more minutes and get yourself off with that vibrator. Seriously, I could barely hear or see your slick. Yeah, you’re hot as fuck, but the feed is pretty low quality.
” I nod along, trying to make it seem like I give a fuck.
“I’m so sorry you feel that way. Unfortunately, NightNudes does charge for any additional time, so unless you want to pay more, we will need to end the feed now.
” My voice is sweet to the point of saccharine.
This guy is such an ass, and if I didn’t need the money so badly, I would ban him from private rooms, possibly even my subscription list.
Beggars can’t be choosers. And whores deserve what they get, my mother’s voice echoes—memories from long ago.
“Fine. I hope you use some of this money to get yourself a better camera. Once you do, I’ll work on saving up for another session.
You got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.
” With that final reminder of what I’ve become, he signs off.
Bile crawls up my throat, and I swallow hard, trying not to give in to the nausea.
My session with 88 didn’t make me feel dirty and used, but this one with Alex certainly has done it.
With a few clicks, I check the balance on my bank account, glad to see that I at least have enough for rent and food shopping for the week. The growing balance is the only thing that makes being treated like a piece of meat worth it.
A gentle knock sounds on my bedroom door.
“It’s me, and I brought pizza whenever you’re done,” my bestie whispers through the crack.
Her sweet gesture brings an immediate smile to my face, allowing me to leave my self-loathing thoughts behind. As I bounce out of bed, I wince at the soreness, but rush over to my dresser to pull out my coziest, softest pair of sweats. Comfort and pizza make everything better.
“So, what’s going on?” Cassia gets straight to the point as she settles on the floor beside the couch.
She always knows when something’s wrong, and her radar couldn’t be more spot on.
Anxiously, I join her, squishing between the couch and coffee table to use the cushions to prop up my back.
The sofa is so lumpy that it makes a better backrest than a seat.
There’s so much to spill, I don’t know where to start.
NightNudes creeps? The job stealer yelling at me? The damn scent-match situation? Might as well start with something positive.
“Good news first. I’ve made enough money on NightNudes to cover rent for this month and next month.
The bad news is my favorite client—actually, the only client that doesn’t make me want to burn my skin off—sent me a message explaining that he found his scent-match, so he’s done with the site.
And by extension, me.” I let it out in a rush, hoping Cassia doesn’t question why this matters so much to me.
I hope she can’t tell that this loss feels more than just monetary.
Cassia’s brows draw down, and she tilts her head to look at me more closely. Trying to blank my expression, I stare back but immediately fail as tears well in my eyes.
Knowing that 88 won’t do any more private sessions with me has caused a bit of a spiral.
He up and left me only a day after the hockey debacle, and now all of my interactions on the site seem gross and creepy.
Of course, all the decent Alphas end up finding true love.
Meanwhile, I’m stuck with some hockey-bro asshole who doesn’t even care enough to check in.
“Okay. That sucks! But you seem sadder than just that… You didn’t meet up with him in person, right?
” Cassia reaches forward, flipping open the pizza box that’s sitting on our rickety coffee table.
Fragrant sauce, cheese, and pepperoni tickle my nose and make my mouth water.
My stomach has no chill and immediately rumbles loudly.
Without any fanfare, we both grab a slice and dig in.
“No, of course not! I don’t even know him,” I say around a much too large bite of food.
“He gave me an extra $3000 gift as a parting gift, so money-wise, he was an enormous help, even if he won’t be a continual income.
” I make it sound like the financial implication is all I care about because there’s just no way to explain the strange connection I had with him.
Or how I had the best orgasm of my life just to the sound of his voice.
With another slice of pizza in hand, I give her a too-bright smile, but she sees right through it.
“So, what’s the real deal? You aren’t fooling me. I’ve seen you through hell and back, and I know when you’re down. Is Asher having problems?” Damn, perceptive roommate and best friend.
With a gulp, I shake my head.
“Ash is doing great. He’s really excited to be back with the professional hockey players this weekend. Not to mention he’s been doing unquestionably well at hockey practice and is even finishing his homework without complaining, so honestly, he’s thriving.”
Cass throws a pillow at my head and pins me with her “you better start talking” glare. Having lived with her for all these years, I know her patience is wearing thin. And the truth is, I want to tell her.
Stalling for a moment, trying to find my words, I take a bite of the cheesy, saucy goodness before me, letting out a little moan.
It’s just so damn good. My belly is bulging, already getting full, but I don’t want to give in.
Takeout pizza is a luxury we rarely have.
I usually try to make versions of it for cheaper, using tortillas, but when we get a good slice, there’s nothing better.
“This place is damn good, isn’t it?” I nod, agreeing wholeheartedly. We don’t get a lot of great slices down here in Nashville, so yum. “Now, spill!”
The words tumble out of my mouth like verbal diarrhea.
“I hate working as a camgirl. It makes me feel dirty and guilty. But I also have had moments where I’ve enjoyed it.
Like feeling sexy and free. The entire experience is confusing.
Also, I met my scent-match. And I’ve been trying to find a new job, but with zero leads.
” I bury the Alpha scent-match bullshit in the middle, hoping she doesn’t focus on it, but she knows all my tricks.
“Well, a lot is going on for that pretty little freckled face of yours, huh? All right, we’re gonna get back to the guilt bullshit because that’s your mom and not you.
But first… You met your Alpha?” She squeaks, eyes lighting up with excitement.
Cassia claps her hands, bringing them to her lips, and jealousy twists my gut at her completely normal reaction.
The type I should have after meeting the man who was put on this planet just for me.
“I met him at Asher’s practice last week…” I gulp, mouth suddenly dry. The faint scent of chocolate-hazelnut makes my belly somersault.
“And?” she prompts
“And it’s a fucking mess, Cass. His packmate is a giant asshole.
But I still gave him my number, put myself out there—and he’s barely said a word.
I told him to keep it professional, but I never thought it would be so cold.
It makes sense, though. Why would he be interested in a messy single mom who works on a sex website?
” As the words come out, the stark reality hits me like a punch to the gut, but still I continue, knowing Cassia is the one person who can handle all my crazy.
“And I can’t be with him anyway, because he is a professional hockey player.
Which means media attention. And media attention means that my mom and the step-monster could find me. ”
My best friend knows everything about me, every ugly detail of my life, my past, my present, my future.
Cassia drops her pizza onto her plate and slides over until she can fold her arms around me.
Tucking my chin into her neck, I take in her faint beta scent and allow all the tears I’ve been holding at bay to stream down my face.
Every pent-up piece of anxiety flows from my eyes like a river unable to be dammed.
“Holy shit! That’s a lot, babe. That’s really a lot.
” She just hugs me tighter, and I’m glad she doesn’t offer solutions or placating words because sometimes all you need is for someone else to listen.
She holds me through the tears, allowing me to release all my fears.
Never judging, just a steady presence to cling to in the storm of my life.
My phone buzzes on the table, making me jump. It buzzes again, and I frown, unsure of who in the world would message me this late. Part of me hopes it’s a job, but another part knows that it won’t be.
When it buzzes again, I reach for it, using my sleeve to dry my eyes while sniffling. “I’d better check that.” I disentangle myself from Cassia, and she pops up.
The phone is heavy in my hand as I tap the screen, making it come alive.
Unknown number
Hello, Asher’s mom. I think it’s time we have a chat. I’ll be back in town tomorrow. Let me know when you’d like to meet up.
What the hell?
I have no idea who it’s from. My mind jumps immediately to Vonn, but that doesn’t make sense. His name and number are already saved in my contacts. I consider it for a moment and type my reply.
Me
Julius?
It is the only logical answer because no one else is out of town. Just the hockey team, or so Vonn said.
Unknown number
Now you know my name. Care to share yours?
Me
Not particularly. There is no reason for us to meet up.
My inner rage flares. I want nothing from this man. First, he fast-tracked my career as a camgirl, then he insulted my ability to care for my son. Fucking asshole. Now he wants to chat? I quickly add his contact to my phone.
POS
I can think of a few reasons. Our SCENT MATCH for one. New skates for our son for another.
Cassia returns with a tissue, which she offers to me while reading everything over my shoulder and gasping at his revelations.
“What the actual fuck is this loony-toon talking about?” I mutter, thumbs flying over the screen.
Me
Do not SHOUT at me. YOU’RE not my scent-match. Lose this number. And stay away from MY son.
After that, he simply sends me a laughing face like he thinks I’m a funny little lunatic, making me want to reach through the phone and choke him until his eyes bug out.
“What a fucking asshole.” Cassia is bright red from withheld laughter, and I wad up the tissue and throw it at her. “Nothing is funny. Did you see where he called Asher our son? What the hell is wrong with this guy?”
“Sounds like a psychopath in lurveeeeeee,” Her laughter escapes from her mouth, and it’s contagious.
I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but for now, I’m just thankful for our friendship.