Chapter 16 Joining the Show #2
My chest warmed with some kind of fluffy, fuzzy emotion.
Excitement? Happiness? This wasn’t the first time I had another man on my channel, but for some reason I didn’t want to inspect too deeply, I wanted to share this with Grant.
Maybe I wanted to show him off to all the people tuning in that objectified me and made heinous demands they felt entitled to just because they paid to watch.
They thought they owned this part of my life.
Not that I hated camming or felt bitter toward it; in a way the experience was cathartic, letting me take back the sexuality Elio stole from me for a few hundred thousand euros.
Maybe this was the beginning of letting Grant into those darker parts of my life too.
The computer chimed again, playing the electronic dubstep song to open the session.
Grant was frozen in the middle of the room as I turned to face the camera, pulling a bent knee up to lay sideways on top of the mattress and brace a hand to lean in a little.
“Hey, babes,” I opened with my normal line, voice low and sultry but loud enough for the sensitive boom mic hovering overhead to pick up.
“I hope you’re ready for tonight’s session, because I brought a real treat for us to nibble on.
” My eyes shifted over to Grant with a sensual smile to the audience.
“And trust me when I say he’s yummy. Be nice to Puppy, chat. We don’t want to scare him off.”
His breaths quickened, chest heaving, and he pulled his bottom lip in to wet it.
Grant almost looked… nervous. It warmed something in my chest, seeing a man with such an icy exterior fall apart because of me.
But he had put the mask on, so despite his insecurities he was obviously willing to play.
I was excited to pop any and all cherries.
His fingers drifted down the front of his shirt to slip the buttons out at a tortuous pace.
If he didn’t hurry the fuck up I was going to start drooling, watching every smooth inch of skin being revealed bit by bit.
Finally, he was close enough to the bed to reach out and brush my fingertips against the flat plane of his stomach as he tossed the shirt on the floor, leaving his black slacks on with a simple leather belt looped through the waist. I made a point to keep him off-screen but moved just close enough to trail my fingertips down his dark happy trail to the belt’s silver buckle.
For being a hacker—and therefore eternally on a computer—he was extremely fit, not bulky like a bodybuilder but well-toned.
I slipped my fingers between the slacks and his lower abs, the muscles there tensing at my light touch. With the other hand, I yanked on the belt to loosen it from the buckle and pull it out of its loops.
“What do you think, chat?” I brought my hands up to press against his heaving chest and they crept up to twist together at the nape of his neck. “Wouldn’t he look so good with a collar and leash? Oh, or maybe a ball gag? Should we take a poll?”
Grant’s eyes narrowed and a muscle in his jaw twitched.
One second I was standing, pressed against the front of him and rubbing myself like a cat, and the next I was flying a short distance to bounce across the bed’s black duvet.
Whatever exclamation I was about to say was cut off by his strong hand wrapping around the front of my throat.
His fingers pressed the sides of them just enough to be exciting.
But his eyes were set on my face, like he was watching for the first sign of discomfort.
This wasn’t the first time he’d played like this.
There was definitely more to Grant than I thought.
A hungry excitement roiled in my stomach.
Grant slowly lowered his body from where he’d been propped on one elbow, crushing me into the soft bedding and making me writhe beneath him with an exaggerated gasp.
The chat room was going wild, continuously pinging with a steady stream of messages and the telltale cha-ching of tips.
I ignored them all as Grant’s eyes bore into mine, unblinking, and he rolled his hips in another enticing rub.
I reached up to nip at his bottom lip. The groan I got in return had me digging my nails into his back and keeping him pressed close.
Grant swooped in, following my head back down and returning a kiss of his own that was more teeth than lips.
His right hand tangled itself into the fake pink hair of my wig pinned tightly to my head, twisting it to the point of delicious pain that had me gasping into his mouth.
He pulled back just enough to ask, “Safe word?” Grant’s lips moved against mine with those two words and shorted my brain for a moment. What did he ask?
I must have looked as strung-out as I felt, because Grant hoisted me up with him as he sat up on his knees planted on either side of my hips.
One hand stayed buried in my hair—it was going to be a bitch to brush out all the snarls his fingers were making in my wig, and I silently thanked past me for thinking to secure it tightly tonight—and the other arm wrapped around my shoulders to keep me pressed close.
His head bent low to my right ear, the one that wasn’t visible to the camera.
Heat pumped from his exposed skin and threatened to set me on fire like I was dry kindling.
“Give me a safe word.”
An excited shudder racked through my body.
Every part that touched his hot skin felt too sensitive, and it was both too much and not enough.
Never would I have expected a tight-laced guy like Grant would be into sex that required something like a safe word.
I assumed the missionary position would be kinky for him.
Grant proved me wrong yet again when he jerked my head to the side to bite along the tendon stretching down my neck to the shoulder.
A brutal nip jerked me out of my stupor long enough to remember he wanted an answer.
“Lyre,” I finally gasped. My sister's name came thoughtlessly. It was certainly the last word I'd ever use in relation to sex. Not that Grant had to know I'd rather gargle acid than tap out.
Grant froze. For a brief moment I thought I was clinging to a statue with how still he was.
I took advantage of the distraction to pull him to my left, rolling him onto the bed and throwing my leg over his thigh still offensively covered with clothing.
My focus narrowed. If I didn’t get some friction against my clit in the next three seconds, I was going to combust.
My primal lurked just underneath my skin, clawing to get out and force a shift.
Even with the effort of forcing it down I could feel my teeth elongate into fangs.
Grant’s eyes zeroed in on that little change, and a low growl rumbled in his chest as his nostrils flared at the heightened pheromones my body naturally released in this state.
His hand palmed the back of my head and he dragged me down for a kiss that matched the same wild intensity as before.
I smiled beneath the onslaught and nipped lightly at whatever I could catch between my teeth, rewarded with the metallic flavor of blood teasing my taste buds when they caught on his bottom lip.
His scent was so enticing, spicy and woodsy in a way I’ve never smelled on a man naturally.
It made me want to bury my fangs in his neck to mark him as mine.
Wait… where the fuck did that come from?
“We’re biting now?” His voice was little more than a snarl, but loud enough for the camera to pick up.
“What do you say, chat? Should she get punished for that?” Ping, ping, pingpingping!
The chatroom went wild with the distinct sound of viewers tipping.
Grant’s lips pulled into a feral smile I would have never expected him to make.
It was so hot my brain short-circuited, seeing his fangs elongate just behind his top lip.
We were too far away for the camera to pick up the subtle changes of his primal taking over.
I was a bit shocked; shifters who were not alphas only transformed when showing extreme emotion.
“I’m the only one dolling out punishment tonight, puppy.”
Before we got too carried away, I bucked my hips and flipped our positions so I was on top.
Grant let me move him with ease. Thighs bracketing his hips, I was now within reach of the bedside table and I reached for the top drawer.
When the small packet I flicked landed on top of his chest, Grant’s smirk turned fiendish.
“You don’t trust me to pull out? For the record, I am clean. ”
I knew he was clean, I had already found his medical records. Did he think I was an amateur?
“Spare me,” I rose onto my knees and scooted back as I began undoing his pants. A loud breath huffed from him when I jerked on them a little too hard to pull them down off of his legs. “There are worse things to contract than diseases. Now lift your feckin’ hips.”
Faster than I expected, Grant propped himself up on his elbows high enough to give a nip to my collarbone just shy of painful.
He had to know how delicious his abs looked like this, curled and flexing as he bent his knees to brace his feet on the bed and lift his hips.
The motion knocked me forward, barely allowing me to catch myself over his torso on my hands and knees, and trapped me from moving down his body.
One hand snapped to the front of my throat and shoved me over onto my back again.