CHAPTER 6
ROBBIE
A part of me felt like a sleazy stalker for giving in to my base needs. While another part of me was desperate to explore this part of me. The screen flickered to life.
For a moment, I just stared, unsure what I was expecting. But it wasn’t this.
He was already there. Shirtless. Lean muscles catching the light like they were sculpted for it. His dark hair was damp and tousled, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. And his eyes...
Jesus.
They weren’t just beautiful. They were aware. Like he knew exactly what he was doing, and exactly who was watching.
I swallowed hard, suddenly conscious of my own heartbeat. Of the heat crawling up my neck. Of the fact that I hadn’t felt this kind of pull in...years. Like a hook catching under my ribs, tugs.
He moved with ease, adjusting the camera, stretching like he wasn’t performing — just existing. But it was a performance. Every glance, every shift of his hips, every slow drag of his fingers down his chest.
I should’ve looked away.
I didn’t.
Instead, I leaned in.
He reached for a bottle of lube, set it on the table beside him, and gave the camera a look...half smirk, half dare.
My breath caught.
This wasn’t just porn. It was intimate. Like he was letting me in on something private. Something real.
And then he started.
Slow. Deliberate. Like he was teasing himself as much as the audience.
I felt my body react before my brain caught up. Heat pooled low in my stomach. My fingers twitched. My mouth went dry.
But it wasn’t just arousal.
It was recognition. Need.
Something about him, the way he moved, the way he looked at the lens — it felt familiar. Like I’d seen him before. Like Dad had seen him before.
Was this the man from the USB?
Was this...him?
I didn’t know what I was feeling. Lust. Curiosity. Grief. All tangled together in a knot, I couldn’t untangle.
I just knew I couldn’t stop watching.