Chapter 9
Sitting on the edge of Jack’s bed, I’m filled with thoughts of him and how he pressed his body against mine in the kitchen.
Not to mention my shock when I realised he was rock-hard and rocking his length against my ass while he spoke low, growling the words to me as though he was fighting himself on what to do with me.
And even though I didn’t say it, my own imagination ran wild for the briefest of moments, and all I could think about was him tearing the clothes from my body and making me scream his name so loud the neighbours could hear.
Everything in that moment grew hazy, dragging me deeper into the void, and I was seconds away from begging him to fuck me.
Nothing else mattered, and all I could concentrate on was the way his lips gently brushed the shell of my ear as he enunciated every single word he spoke.
How his hot breath danced over my cheek and sailed down the curvature of my throat straight to my collarbone where it elicited gooseflesh in its wake.
I could feel myself getting wetter the longer he spoke, and the more he pressed his cock into me, and I knew if he asked me for it, I would’ve dropped to my knees then and there and gave him anything he demanded of me.
The fact that he’s still married to my mother didn’t even come into the equation for me and I know I should feel bad, I know I should keep my distance from him and ignore the depraved little thoughts and images I have of him fucking me raw, but I can’t seem to stop now.
I’m not usually this mouthy unless the situation calls for it, but for some reason nothing compares to backchatting him and watching his reaction in real time. I swear to god, it’s like I’m doing it on purpose now just so I can get the reaction I want.
My phone beeps in my hand, dragging me from all the immoral thoughts I’m having about my forty-nine-year-old stepdad, and when I glance down at the message, it’s just who I expect it to be from. Toby.
Before Jack and I sat down to eat, I checked my phone and read through some of the disgusting things Toby said to me via text message.
Nothing I haven’t already heard from him, but it still stung.
So after the first five messages, I just ignored the rest, deleting his chat history altogether, because if there’s one thing my ex-boyfriend hates, it’s being ignored.
It’s almost as though I’m at fault for him apparently slipping and falling dick-first into my friend at a party last week.
Neither of them gave me the respect of at least doing it somewhere they couldn’t be caught, no, instead I found them both in the only bathroom in the house.
Toby balls deep in Lisa while he pushed her face against the tiled shower wall.
If I’m being completely honest with myself, between the both of them, it was Lisa’s betrayal that hurt me the most, but none of that matters now because I’m away from them and all their bullshit. Except Toby is stupid enough not to realise that him cheating on me means I’ll never get back with him.
You couldn’t waterboard me to do it.
I clear thoughts of either of them from my mind and stand from the bed, attach my phone to the tripod on the opposite side of the bed, and log into Pleasure Gally’s live stream.
Before pressing the ‘Go Live’ button, I make sure my phone and tripod are at the perfect angle, so half of the bed is in view, as well as the door behind me.
Part of me knows I shouldn’t be doing this with Jack only being downstairs, but the possibility of him walking in when I’m half way through a show excites me in the best possible way.
The fear of being caught has always been a thrill of mine, which is why I’m an online cam girl.
Sure I wear a mask, but my tattoos are very distinctive, so knowing anyone could recognise me only fills me with the eagerness to continue doing it.
Luckily, my father knows—which was a very weird conversation to have with him—and in the beginning, he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea, which is completely understandable.
But we both sat down together, he asked as many questions as he wanted, and I explained them to the best of my ability, y’know…
without making it awkward afterward. The best part about it all is I don’t live with him anymore, so that makes it a hell of a lot easier on both of us.
Walking over to the giant ornate mirror behind me, I take one last look at myself before I start my livestream; the black lace underwear and suspender set I’m wearing hugs my curves in the most delicious of ways, and the belt only cinches my waist further.
The balconet cups of my intricate lace bra hoist my tits up perfectly, and the matching thong barely covers anything between my legs.
My bright, copper-coloured hair has been curled to perfection, hanging low down my back and shoulders. I lift my hands and make sure I secure the masquerade eye mask I’m wearing enough before I move down to the garter clips to check them, too.
I roll my scarlet-painted lips together and blow myself a kiss in the mirror as I back up a few paces and make my way back to the bed, settling myself into the most alluring pose my viewers enjoy—on my knees, thighs slightly widened, shoulders back to push my tits forward.
Taking a deep breath, I reach forward and press the ‘live’ button, watching the swirling timer as it slowly counts down from ten.
When the once-black screen clicks on, my feed is flooded with viewers instantly, and just like always I smile and wave, greeting my regulars individually and thanking them for their gifts.
Most of my watchers know one thing about me, and that’s the bigger the gift, the better the spicy content they’ll get dropped into their inbox from my discreet site.
It’s why I make the money I do.
But even though I make a generous amount of cash, it still wouldn’t pay for rented accommodation in London. Hence why I have a nine-to-five day job. I’m just about to reach behind me to unclip my bra strap, when the door to the bedroom swings open and I spin on the spot to face Jack as he speaks.
“Robyn, about earlier, I—”
I freeze.
He freezes.
And for a few moments, we just stare at each other in complete and utter silence and shock.
Neither one of us really knowing what to say or do about the position we’ve currently found ourselves in.
I know I said the prospect of him walking in on me was exciting…
but I didn’t actually think it would happen.
Luckily, my phone is angled at just the right position for his face to be out of view and away from anyone on my stream seeing who he is. Jack is still wearing the same clothes from earlier, a crisp white shirt, black slacks, black belt and tie. He must not have had time to shower or change.
I overheard him talking inside his office earlier today before my unexpected nap, and from what I gathered, a lot of zoom meetings with various clients were on his list of things to do today, so that could be why.
The jingle that plays when a new watcher joins my stream begins going wild.
One bell after the other, without a second break between each one.
I’ve never heard it going this crazy before, and as I try to think of the right words to say to Jack, my mouth just ends up mimicking a fish out of water.
I hold my finger up in his direction, silently asking him for a moment so I can sort this out, and turn to face the screen.
Emojis, messages, celebration jingles, gifts, everything. I also notice my live has jumped from three hundred guests to over four thousand in the space of however long Jack and I were staring at each other.
“Holy shit,” I murmur, fighting the grin on my face. Even with refunding the gifts my watchers have bombarded me with since Jack walked in the room, the money I’m make alone from views, shares, and likes will keep me going for at least three months.
Robyn, get it together. Stop the live.
I blink a few times, bringing myself out of this ridiculous daze I’m in because my stepdad is literally standing behind me still, watching all of this unfold.
I lean forward on my knees and hover my thumb over the ‘end live’ button, smiling sadly.
“Guys, I’m really sorry but I have to end the live right now.
I’ll be back soon and all gifts will be refunded within the next ten min—” The end of my sentence cuts off instantly when Jack’s large, callous hand wraps around my wrist, and I look up from the bed at him in surprise. “What are you doing?” I whisper.
I watch as he places one foot in front of the other, and closes the space between us, stopping at the edge of the bed with his hand still locked around my wrist, his lower stomach lightly grazing my shoulder.
“Face me,” he breathes hoarsely.
The depth of his rumbling voice sends goosebumps swirling over every inch of my skin, and at the same time, every bit of moisture in my mouth dissipates. I don’t know why I’m listening to him or even doing what he’s asked of me, but… I can’t stop myself from turning my body to face him.
I have to angle my chin a little higher so I’m able to meet his gaze because of how close he is to me now. Slowly, he drops my wrist, and I rest both hands in my lap, still not breaking eye contact.
Am I waiting for his direction?
At this point who knows.
But what I do know is, as he stares down at me with blown-out, darkened eyes, I want nothing more than for him to touch me.
The anticipation is killing me. My heart is beating overtime, my blood throbbing in my ears, my breathing only becoming more clipped, and my nerves balancing on the edge of a very sharp, imaginary knife.
All this from one single look, one touch, and two simple words sailing from his lips.
But still, I refuse to take my eyes off of him.
Jack stands there in silence and I wonder if he’s going to come to his senses and just walk out, leaving me sitting here all alone.
Do I want that?