Chapter 5 Lexi
FIVE
LEXI
There’s something about talking to him that makes me bold.
I mean, sure, creating spicy content for random people on the internet is pretty bold, but that’s just about the only thing I’ve ever done that can be described that way.
And the only person I step out of my comfort zone with is CJP.
God, I wish I knew his real name.
I could probably find out if I really wanted to. Hell, I could probably just ask him and he’d tell me. The guy is an open book. I’m just too afraid to flip to the next page.
Which is just the story of my life, if I’m honest.
I watch with rapt attention as the three little dots bounce, my heart beating harder than it has any right to, waiting for his response while my fingers move through the wetness between my thighs.
God, I’m so fucking turned on.
The scene we’ve painted has me far more interested than it should, but the idea that he would have no problem fucking me in front of other people so long as they didn’t touch me?
I just about came when I read the message.
CJP: I don’t think you’re ready for the filthiest corners of my mind when it comes to you, Wildcat.
But I won’t leave you hanging. I’d start us off slow.
Maybe using you while your subscribers watch a live feed.
I bet they’d get off on how hard you’d come with my cock buried in your pretty cunt and completely at my mercy.
CJP: Then we’d graduate to a long drive on a beautiful day.
I’d have your head in my lap, your mouth warming my cock while I use my free hand to play with your pussy on display for anyone we pass.
But you wouldn’t be allowed to come. I’d hold you on the edge until you were a begging mess, your makeup smeared down your cheeks, the car seats permanently smelling of you, and only then would I pull over and bend you over the hood of the car where anyone could watch me forcing orgasm after orgasm from you, and after being denied for so long, you’d get off on the idea of being caught.
Holy fuck. This should not be this hot, but it is.
Maybe I have an exhibitionism kink as well.
CJP: Every time we’d leave the house, I’d have you plugged, a constant reminder of the fact I could take you anytime I want.
Sometimes you’d have a remote-controlled vibrator buried in your pussy, and I’d turn it on whenever I pleased, but of course you wouldn’t be allowed to come without permission.
CJP: And then I’d take you to a sex club, somewhere we could draw a real crowd with your perfect body.
I’d tie you to a bench, facing the crowd, and slowly wind you up.
Force you to choke on my cock while I hold a vibrator against your throbbing clit, but the settings would be too low for you to come.
It wouldn’t be until you’d begged and pleaded that you’d finally be allowed to come with my cock buried inside your pussy and your ass plugged, ready for me to fuck next.
I come.
My body trembles as my release sends pleasure rushing through every inch of my body. Stars burst to life in my vision, and I drop my phone to the bed beside me, unable to keep my hold on it.
By the time I come back to myself, my breathing is labored and my body tingles with the remnants of my orgasm.
A sad fact of my life is that no one can make me come the way he does, and he’s nothing more than a stranger behind the screen.
When I can finally move my body enough to retrieve my phone, I find another message waiting for me that has heat rushing to my cheeks.
CJP: God, what I would give to watch you come around my cock.
Wildcat: How’d you know I came?
CJP: Because I just blew my load all over my desk at the image I painted, and I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t be far behind me.
Wildcat: Well, you’re right, I did. I still can’t feel my legs haha.
CJP: I did my job then *smirk emoji*
CJP: I should get back to work, but I want to hear all about this date when you get home.
CJP: Wear the shimmery one. You look delicious but respectable.
I laugh at the description, but there’s a part of me that’s sad he won’t be sitting on the other side of the table tonight.
Every time my feelings for him deepen, I think it can’t get any worse, but I’m always wrong.
Wildcat: Thanks for your help…with the outfit and the orgasm.
CJP: My pleasure, Wildcat.
How am I meant to get ready for this date when I still haven’t regained control of my body?
Three hours and two meltdowns later, and I’m ready to leave the house.
Mr. Whiskers kept close for moral support while I proceeded to glue my eyelashes to three different fingers and cover myself in so much lash glue it’s a miracle that I can still blink without my eyes gluing shut.
So in short, I’m a disaster.
I snap a quick photo of myself for CJP. He helped me pick an outfit, so the least I can do is send him a photo. Feeling brave, I include my ruby red lips in the photo and click send before I can change my mind.
It may not seem like much of a risk to most, but after years of posting, I’ve never once slipped up, never sent a single image that had any identifying marks included, so this is a big step for me.
Wildcat: Thanks for your help this afternoon, with the outfit and with the other thing *wink emoji*
Wildcat: *sent a photo*
I meet Ken, my driver and personal security, much to both of our dismay, at the front door, and he gives me a quick nod.
I hate having someone on my tail at all times. It’s probably my least favorite part of being a Mafia princess, and there are so many things I hate about this life that I wouldn’t have a hope of counting them all.
Ken has been my guard since I was a teenager, and I’ll admit that I gave him his run for his money when I was young and still testing the boundaries.
Then I went off to college, and he was forced to sit through lectures, go to college parties, and allow me to make all the mistakes any student should at least once in their lives, all while keeping me alive.
Yeah, it makes sense that he’s not my biggest fan, even if he would put his life on the line without hesitation.
Personally, I think he actually secretly likes me, even if his monotonal manner would never give it away.
I slip into the back of the town car and force a breath into my lungs.
Here we go.
My first date in years, and with an out-of-state Mafia boss to boot.
It’s a short drive to the restaurant Nico picked, but by the time Ken pulls to the curb, I’m a nervous wreck.
I can’t do this.
I don’t want to do this.
But my fear of being alone my whole life is tugging at me, my internal clock constantly reminding me that thirty is around the corner, and then what if I can’t find someone to marry because I’m not in my prime?
It’s a stupid thought, especially seeing as I’m the one who’s usually preaching about age just being a number, but that doesn’t mean the voice in the back of my mind is listening to my pep talks, and honestly, it’s just a part of being a woman in today’s society.
There are so many expectations that it’s impossible to go through life unscathed by those ideations.
The world isn’t kind to women, and that’s a fact I’ve spent my life coming to terms with, no matter how unfair it is.
“You going to be okay?” Ken asks, his eyes darting around the empty street, as hyperaware as he normally is.
I give the man a lot of shit, but he’s never failed to keep me alive, so I should probably give him some credit.
I nod, forcing a breath into my lungs. “It’s just dinner, right?”