Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Ryan
My plan backfired. It had been damn near a week, and I hadn’t heard from Raven.
When I sent her the voice clip I was certain that she would message back with an audio request. She hadn’t.
I didn’t know what was more annoying, the fact that she hadn’t responded or that she stopped interacting with my posts on social media altogether.
Maybe the voice message was too much for her, or maybe she was just busy.
Of course, she was busy. I knew I shouldn’t have read into it, but I couldn’t keep my thoughts in check.
Her subscription was still active on the paid platform and would be for the next month until she was autobilled. I wondered if she had unsubscribed after the message, but I wouldn’t know until the next payment cycle whether she was charged again.
I bobbed my knee incessantly while sitting on the couch the next Friday.
There was another scheme I plotted to get the little minx to talk to me.
And by me, I meant Zander. It wasn’t going to be as simple as just sending her a message.
I had already tried that on the paid site.
I kept it simple, just asking for what she wanted in the free clip.
When that went unanswered for a few days, I sent another telling her the promotion would expire soon and to send her request as soon as possible. Nothing.
Raven was a successful business woman, not a social media dopamine addict that would fall at my virtual feet. Her minimal online presence indicated she wasn’t going to be won over by a personal audio clip and an instant message. I drained the last of my energy drink and glanced at the clock.
Eight p.m. It was late enough she should’ve been home from the office even though she worked all the time.
I tapped the virtual phone app I had installed earlier that afternoon and copied the number Raven called me from on Saturday.
It was different from the one she used the first time I had spoken to her, so I was banking on it being her personal cell number.
Pasting the number into the app after I set up a burner phone number, I tapped the text icon.
“Enjoying your night, baby girl?” I pressed send and waited. Patience while hoping she responded wasn’t easy, but if she didn’t, I had a backup plan. One that involved Zander’s voice.
Twenty minutes passed, and I stared at the phone like a psycho the entire time, unsure what it was about her that was making me insane.
I knew little about her and had only seen one photo, and yet I was obsessed with the dark-haired woman.
It wasn't normal by any means, but I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. I’d even broken my own rules of not interacting with a follower by sending the audio.
What I was doing now was definitely beyond the personal boundaries I’d set for myself as a narrator, but I didn’t care in the slightest.
The night I came to the conclusion she was most definitely Finigirl, my hesitations about pursuing my finance lady were shot to hell.
Raven was going to be mine, and she was going to come willingly.
What we did after that didn’t matter, but I was going to make her want me so badly that she couldn’t think of anything else.
It was worth the pain that would most certainly come after.
In the past I had tendencies to become obsessed with things, but it never happened with a person before. When I was younger I wouldn’t stop playing a game until I beat it, staying awake all night. I was lucky that my parents didn’t check on me after I went to “bed,” even if they were home.
In college, for the two years I was there, I was consumed by partying and drinking, finally out from under my scrutinous parents' noses. They thought I was attending class and social functions like a gentleman, but I was actually passed out on some dude’s couch.
Deep down, as a child, I’d harbored hope for my parents to care and finally accept me someday and the drinking was a result of that hope slipping away.
Once I was kicked out of college for missing classes, I had a long conversation with myself and sought therapy to get my shit together. Mom and Dad weren’t happy, but they paid for a good therapist, and I appreciated their help in that regard. The straw that broke the camel’s back would come later.
I saw the therapist for two years before my parents gave me the boot and stopped paying for it.
Without them, I had nothing. No home, no money, no family since my only other relative, my uncle, died in a car crash when I was a child.
It was fine with me since I refused to be who they wanted me to be.
When I got on my feet and started to earn my own money, I didn’t go back to the doctor.
I should’ve gone back considering I was enthralled by the high I get from getting people off with my voice, and now my infatuation with Raven. But I was having too much fun.
Raven was different from any other woman I’d encountered, and I couldn’t put my finger on why she was going to ruin me.
I just knew that she would. She was clearly attractive, and anyone who didn’t think so needed a brain scan.
More than that, she was successful and strong.
Not to mention she was older and had a corporate goth vibe—weaknesses I didn’t know I had until her.
But, there was something else. From the moment I heard her voice, I wanted to play with her.
I wanted to make her want all of me, not just my voice.
Moving on probably wouldn’t be an option even if I could quell my fixation, but I no longer gave a fuck.
I knew I wasn’t good enough, but she was going to become obsessed with me, too.
Then I was going to fuck her until I was branded into her mind and soul, ruining her for anyone else.
A check mark indicating the message had been read appeared, pulling me from reliving my past. My heart woke up in my chest, and anticipation flooded my body. I jumped up and began pacing around my apartment, needing to move.
Five minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty. Still no response. “Come on, baby. You’re the worst fucking tease.”
At the fifty-minute mark, the three typing dots appeared, and I sat down in my desk chair, focusing on the screen.
The dots jumped just like my pulse, and then they disappeared.
I groaned at the push and pull she was doing.
This woman was a witch weaving a spell on me, and she hadn’t even said anything.
A minute went by with nothing, and I blew out an exasperated breath.
Then a message appeared. “Who is this?”
Fucking finally. Even if it was a generic response to getting a text from an unknown number.
“Who do you want me to be?” I typed back and hit send.
The flashing dots appeared immediately, and then disappeared again. A few seconds and they were back. Thank fuck.
“I think you have the wrong number.”
Come on, babe, take the bait.
I rushed to text back. “I know I have the right one. I’ll be anyone you need me to be.”
Her response was immediate this time. “Hmm…can you be a serial killer because I need someone to kill this conversation.”
A laugh burst from my lungs. My girl had jokes. “Haha, you wound me. I don't think I'll recover from that one.”
“Sounds like a you problem.”
This woman wasn’t doing herself any favors by being sassy. It turned me on that much more. “You’re right. It is a me problem. Just like you’re a me problem.”
The dots disappeared as quickly as they had flashed on the screen. A few minutes ticked by.
“A rando texts me and calls me a problem. Doesn’t seem like a conversation I’m interested in.”
This was going south, so time to pull out the big guns.
“Fine, enough games. You know I’m Zander, Finigirl.”
The text was read immediately. No typing indicator came, and I knew I’d stopped her in her tracks.
If she suspected it was Zander on the other end of the line, she couldn’t know for sure, but now she did.
I assumed I would be left on read for a while so I left the living room in search of a glass of water.
Sliding the phone in my pocket, I grabbed a glass from the cabinet. The water had just begun to pour from the fridge when my sweatpants dinged. I forced myself to fill the glass full and take a drink before I checked the message.
“How did you get my number? I’m not in the fucking mood for this shit. I’ve already felt like I was being watched tonight so this is par for the fucking course.”
My blood ran cold. What the fuck? Someone was watching her? Not that I was opposed to the idea of watching her myself, my cock stirring a bit at the notion, but anger surged to the forefront of my mind at the thought of anyone else watching her.
“Where are you? Are you hurt?” I sent the message without hesitation.
She read the text instantly but didn’t start typing.
My thumb hovered over the call button, unease churning in my gut.
Then a thought popped into my mind. What if she was playing with me too?
What if she said those things to get me to call her?
I wasn’t quite ready to give her my voice live yet so I waited.
She finally started typing. “Are you trying to get me to tell you where I am so you can come murder me or some fucked up shit?”
Annoyance made my rage worse. “Goddammit, tell me you’re safe and unharmed or I actually will find you and see for myself.”
She responded quickly. “I’m fine. I’m safe. Not that it matters to a famous voice actor.”
I released a hard breath. Thank fuck. Suddenly, my weekend was booked full of research. I needed to know more about her, and why she was afraid.
“Good. Next time, answer me when I ask a question. Your safety is no joke.”
“Why do you care?” she messaged quickly.
My fingers flew over the letters on the phone. “Because I’m actually a decent person. But if someone were to be followed only to be pushed against a wall and kissed, then I could probably get behind that.”
“I don’t know whether to say thank you or fuck you.”
I smirked at her set up to turn the conversation the direction I wanted. “How about you thank me for fucking you with my voice, and we can call it even.”
“ I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t be coy, Finigirl. Why else would you pay for the highest tier of my content if you weren’t getting off to my voice?”
I waited much longer than I wanted for her response.
“What can I say, you have a nice voice.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I said to the silent living room in my apartment. Now we were getting somewhere. She was starting to enjoy this.
Shifting my semi-hard dick in my sweats, I typed a reply. “I think you could use a different word to describe my voice, princess.”
“I’m no princess.”
“You’re right. You’re a fucking queen.”
“Oh, that was smooth. Seriously, though, how did you get my number?”
The subtle indication that she was going to entertain this had me almost at full attention.
“The paid site. You used this number when you signed up.”
She seems to calculate her reply. “I didn’t think websites gave personal information.”
I knew she would ask. “I have my ways. Now, are we finished with twenty questions?”
“Oh, I’m just getting started.”
Fuck me, this woman. She was making this easy.
Almost suspiciously easy. She was making it easy to ignore my insecurities, but most women would block a random number immediately, especially one that was sending such suggestive texts.
I wasn’t expecting that reaction from her.
Every person in the world was a bit crazy, but what if my girl was more like me than I thought?
Maybe she had a stranger kink, or maybe she was bored. I didn’t know and I didn’t care what the reason was as long as she kept texting me long enough to weave my web.
I glanced at the clock, noticing it was fairly early. For me, anyway. I cracked my knuckles and prepared to go as long as she did.
“Hit me with them, then.”