Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
JINX
My pointer hovers over the first post on Kyra’s page. Ever since Darko gave me the name, I’ve been doing this dance with myself. It feels wrong. A violation of trust when I have the real woman in my life. But at the same time, I need to know.
Fuck, do I need to know.
What face does she show the world when she’s Blue Babylon? Who is Kyra when she’s safe in a world of her own creation?
How will it make me feel?
It’s that last question that has me take a step further than I’ve managed up to now.
That makes me click the post instead of closing the browser window with conflicted, warring emotions.
The video pops up, enlarging on my laptop screen, Kyra front and center on her hands and knees as she moves away from hitting record.
I tap the image and pause the video. Fuck. Do I want to do this without telling her first? Would it be better to say I’ve already found her content, ask if she minds if I look? Or is that twice as fucking perverted?
Why the fuck is this so hard when the woman on the screen isn’t a stranger? No brainer, you fucking idiot.
I draw a deep breath, then set the video to play again. It cost me fifty dollars and a fake profile to get access to this tier, and it’s not even Blue Babylon’s top-grade shit.
Fucking looks like it, though.
Kyra moves on the screen again, her hair straightened but the same sun-touched brown that it is now.
But her makeup is a damn sight heavier: smoky black eyes, overlined lips making those puppies even plusher than they are already.
She sits back on her heels, dressed in fucking nothing but a strappy bondage-inspired two-piece lingerie set and a silky gown over top, open at the front.
My heart is an undeniable beat against my ribs.
Holy shit. What would seventeen-year-old Matthew have thought if someone had told him this is what his secret crush would grow up to do?
Bet I would have laughed the fuckin’ person out of town and said, “Kyra? That girl?” because damn, the woman on my screen is an entirely different beast.
“Hey,” she purrs. “How was your day?” Fuck—she roleplays, sucking me right into the scene with her. “I bet I can make it better.” Vague answers that fit with whatever I—the user—might say. “I missed you.”
I slam the lid down and freeze the video. Fuck. Am I really doing this?
Of course I fucking am. Why else would I have visited her goddamn page again if I didn’t intend to do something about it?
I stare at the laptop as though it’s possessed, hands to my waist. My bedroom door’s shut, but it almost feels as though I should take this shit on a hike to the middle of the desert just to be sure nobody else might hear, which is fucking stupid considering her sub count says this has probably been watched over a hundred thousand times.
How long would it take me to murder that many men? Or women. Jesus. I scrub a hand over my face and draw a deep breath. I can do this. If not for science, for personal gain.
It’s been fucking ages since I’ve blown a load, and if this shit does it for me, I’ll buy that woman a goddamn ring.
I edge the laptop open again and set it on my small desk, angled so I can see it from my bed.
If I sit my ass far enough away from it, I can’t be tempted to pussy out each time she does something that makes me feel.
My finger shakes a little when I tap the key to start the video playing again and then get settled on the foot of my bed.
Kyra slides the gown off her shoulders, letting it pool around her ample hips. Fuck, I love how she looks with meat on her bones. A goddamn goddess.
“You don’t have to do anything, baby,” she croons. “Just watch.”
Is she in my fucking head?
My girl teases her thumb under the strap of the barely-there bra, offering the slightest hint of dusky nipple before she repeats the action on the other side.
I tear my focus away from her and take in the backdrop—a plain mattress set on the floor with soft fur throws and copious pillows behind her.
It could be anywhere. How would people know if she filmed here in Minnesota unless they recognized who she really is?
And then, would they say anything if it implicated them?
Fuck knows, I wouldn’t.
“Which one should we use?” she damn near groans as she lifts two girthy dildos into view. “The purple one’s my favorite. Let’s use that.” Again. Cleverly scripted answers that don’t compromise what the viewer thinks.
I draw a deep breath and let it out slowly. Here we go. I’m about to step into the realm of shit-I-can-never-unsee.
“But first, let’s get me ready.”
She takes off her goddamn panties. Fucking slides that poor excuse for clothing off her legs and flicks them aside. Lord, have mercy on my sinful soul, because I already know I’ll watch this again at half speed.
Cherry-tipped fingers spread her wide, and I shift a little where I sit. Fuck. The familiar tingle tells me this turns me on, but I’m yet to show it.
She circles her pert little nub; the bud grows fatter by the minute, her groans louder as she starts to drip the evidence of her arousal. I lean forward, imagine how that would taste, catching the honeydew before it hits her ass.
Fuck. Kyra lifts the purple dildo that resembles more of a cone than any dick I’ve ever seen and swipes the end through her mess.
“Yes, darlin’.”
The sound of my voice startles the fuck out of me; I was so invested in the goddamn video I did it without conscience. Hopefully, none of the brothers chose that fucking moment to walk past my room, although the old floorboards would give it away.
She slips the tip inside.
I get stuck to the inside of my boxers.
It’s everything I dreamed of. All I ever wanted with her, except for it happening in the flesh and at my hand. Goddamn. I palm my junk, digging the heel of my hand into my cock.
“I’ve wanted to show you this all day,” she moans, tugging that goddamn defiance of the laws of physics from her cunt. Her cream coats it in wide bands.
I swear I can almost taste it when she holds it close to the camera.
“Do you feel better? How about I show you some more?”
I’m kneeling before the desk, hand sliding inside my jeans, when a solid three thumps to my door have me smack my heel on the bedpost in my haste to get up and close the laptop. “What?!”
“Get your ass out here,” Fang calls through the door. “Pres needs you.”
If I needed a sign that this shit is wrong, I guess there the fuck it was. “Be there in five.”
His footsteps recede—fuck knows how I didn’t hear them approach. Guess my girl had me too caught up.
I lift the lid, have a little internal cry at missing out on the rest, and close the browser.
Chaos crosses the foyer when I jog down the stairs a few minutes later, my composure somewhat restored.
His jaw grinds when he spots me, pausing for me to catch up. “Guess who’s decided to come to town?”
Fucking mongrels. “Where were they last seen?”
“Ness messaged when they passed the cafe.” He crosses to the liquor cabinet and pours himself a stiff drink as he adds, “Noah confirmed it when he spotted them ride past his shop.”
“Plan?” I look to my president. My best friend. The guy I’ve trusted to make the hard calls most of my life. “We gonna play it dumb when they get here, or what?”
“We don’t know if they’re even coming here.
Last Darko saw on the street cams, they headed straight through.
” He paces to the door, glancing toward the road.
“Ness is at work. Selena’s at school. All I can do is keep them there and hope this doesn’t touch them.
” He runs a hand through his hair, distressed at having his woman and sister out of reach.
“We need to ride into town to show a presence. The Breed would be stupid to start a fight when they don’t know for sure what they deal with.
Hell, I don’t even know who we’ve got available and who’s out. ”
I grab one of our prospects, Hustle, by the collar as he passes by. “Head outdoors and round up anyone who’s on site. Tell them they need to get indoors for a head count.”
He nods, dark eyes narrowing. “Do I say why?”
“No. But once you’re finished, I need you to wheel as many of the bikes in the garage out into the yard as you can to form a lineup. I need the place to look busy.”
He dashes out the door to start a sweep of the outbuildings.
“Little bit of deception, huh?” Chaos smirks.
I shrug. “Ain’t my fault if they look around and assume something that isn’t true.”
“It won’t be enough,” Chaos says. He bites his bottom lip with a grimace. “They number twice as many as we do. We’re fucked if they do decide to start shit.”
“Love your confidence,” I sass.
He lifts an eyebrow. “We both know how crazy they are. Logic doesn’t apply to them.”
He’s not wrong. “Go call the school and get them to give Selena a message to stay there until you pick her up. I’ll see who we’ve got here already and who can stay behind. Stage some people on the porch in case they do swing by. Make it look as though we aren’t worried.”
He nods, slaps me on the bicep, and then jogs through to his office, seemingly relieved to leave things up to me for now so that he can take care of his loved ones.
And people wonder why I seem okay with being single all these years.
Get attached, and you catch feelings, and those fuckers always scramble your brain when the shit hits the fan.
I head for the stairs, chest failing to fill with my next breath when the thought strikes me like a sucker-punch to the gut.
Kyra’s in town. She’s probably at lunch right now. And if the Breed are half as good as their reputation insists, they’ll know who she is.
Who her father is.
Fuck. I leap up the stairs two at a time and find exactly who I’d hoped for in the last room on the left.
“I need you to look for someone,” I state, nodding toward the laptop on Darko’s bent legs.
He lifts his head and pulls off an earphone. “Can you not let me concentrate on what I’m already doing?” He thumbs toward Fang, who kneels in front of the sash window with a rifle concealed against the baseboard. “It’s bad enough he crashed in here telling me he needed the room.”
“Did he say why?”
“Did he have to?” Darko spins his device, showing me four live feeds of the town’s security cameras set up around the central precinct. “Four of them broke off and hung about town, so I’m tracking them to figure out why.”
“Did you see Kyra at all?”
He hitches an eyebrow, absently scratching at his bare chest as he drags out the single syllable. “Why?”
“Just answer the question.”
Darko taps the keyboard a few times, then spins it for me to see again. Framed in the bottom right image is Kyra, walking the final yards back to the municipal building. Safe. My pulse slows; my breaths come deeper and easier, knowing she’ll be okay until I can get there.
The pressure eases in my head.
Well, damn.
Looks like I might have gone and caught myself some feelings after all.