Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
COVE
I should feel awkward.
That’s what’s supposed to happen the morning after sex, right?
Especially sex that leaves you sore in all the best ways and wrapped around a guy like you’ve known him for years instead of weeks.
But waking up with Everest’s arms slung heavy across my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck?
Yeah. There’s nothing awkward about this.
If anything, it’s too easy.
He mumbles something in his sleep, nose nudging the shell of my ear like he’s trying to burrow under my skin. I feel his morning wood pressing against my ass, and for a split second I consider rolling my hips, just to feel him growl. Just to feel wanted.
But I don’t.
Instead, I slip out from under him, padding to the bathroom after throwing on his shirt. I splash water on my face, blink at my reflection, and wonder how the hell I got here.
This isn’t supposed to be happening.
He was supposed to be a fan. A fling. A fantasy.
And yet... here I am. Nervous. Hopeful. Craving him in a way that has nothing to do with lust.
I brush my hair, throw it up in a messy clip, and move to the studio room—where the pink lights are still strung up, and the camera is half-tilted from the last time I shot something. Normally, I feel powerful here. In control. Worshipped on demand.
But this morning? I feel a little... unsure.
What if he’s only into me off-camera?
What if seeing this part of me—seeing the girl who plays pretend for strangers—ruins it?
A creak behind me makes me turn.
Everest stands in the doorway, shirtless, eyes sleepy but alert. He looks at me, then at the camera, then back at me again.
I cross my arms, bracing.
He doesn’t flinch.
“Are you... working today?” he asks, voice rough and soft at once. Like he’s trying to be careful. Like he knows he’s stepping into sacred ground.
“I was thinking about it,” I say, playing it casual. “It’s been a couple days. Soon Lorna or Chad will be on my ass about not posting.”
He nods slowly. “You want me to go?”
I open my mouth to say yes. To say it’s easier if he’s not here. But something in his eyes stops me.
No judgment or shame. Just... curiosity.
And something that looks an awful lot like devotion.
“I was thinking…” I trail off, biting my lip. “What if I didn’t kick you out? What if I filmed something... while you were here?”
He straightens, not in a nervous way—more like I just gave him a challenge. “Like... you want me to watch?”
My heart races.
“Yes,” I say. “I want to see if I can be both girls around you. The one who wants to fuck you senseless... and the one who fucks the camera.”
He steps closer, slowly, like he’s trying not to spook me.
“I’ve only ever wanted both,” he says.
That’s all I need.
I set up the camera, click it on, and step into the frame. No toys or big setup. Just me in his shirt with no panties.
I sit back on my knees, part my thighs, and look right at the lens. My voice dips into the tone my fans know. Honeyed. Teasing.
“Miss me?” I purr.
But this time, I don’t imagine strangers watching. I don’t imagine anonymous usernames flooding the chat.
I imagine him.
He’s sitting just off to the side. Silent. But I can feel him. His eyes drag across my skin and it turns me on more than any comment ever has.
I tug the shirt up over my head, letting it fall beside me. My hands slide down my own stomach, spreading my legs wider as I let out a sigh. One hand trails to my tits, squeezing gently. The other dips between my thighs, fingers stroking slowly, deliberately.
I’m wet already, because of Everest.
And I want him to see.
“Wish you were here,” I murmur to the camera.
I glance over at him—and it’s the rawest thing I’ve ever done. Showing him this. Letting him see what I do, who I am when the lights are on and the mask is half-on, half-off.
His jaw is tight. His fists are clenched. But he doesn’t stop me, he just watches.
My fingers circle my clit. I let my hips roll, let myself get lost in the feeling. But when I start to pant, when the pressure builds, when the moans start to slip free, I don’t look at the lens.
I look at him.
“Everest.”
It’s not for the fans. It’s not a tease. It’s a plea.
The second I say his name, he’s up. Crossing the room in a few long strides.
He shuts the camera off. Doesn’t say a word.
He scoops me up, carries me to the bed, and lays me down like I’m breakable.
“You sure?” he asks, voice like thunder barely restrained.
I nod. “But I’m in charge this time.”
His brows lift then he grins. “Yes, ma’am.”
I push him back and straddle him, positioning his thick cock with my pussy, and dropping down onto him. Then I ride him like I’m claiming territory.
My pace is slow at first, just enough to make him groan. He’s thick, hot, buried deep, and it’s so much. But I want it like this. I want the control and power. The way his hands twitch but don’t grip my hips because I haven’t given him permission.
“You like watching me?” I whisper, grinding down on him.
He grits his teeth. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”
“Touch me.”
He does. One hand to my tits, the other between us, rubbing where I need it most.
It doesn’t take long. I’m already right there. I drop my hands to his chest, ride him harder, and when I come, I do it crying out his name, not for a camera, not for an audience.
Just for him.
He flips me over after, takes control only once I’ve given it to him. Fucks me until we’re both boneless and stupid with pleasure.
And afterward, when we’re tangled in sheets, sticky and spent, he looks at me like I’ve hung the moon.
Like I’m both his fantasy and his reality.
“I think I could fall in love with you,” he murmurs against my hair.
And I whisper back, “I think I already did.”