Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
My head was fucked.
Drinking on top of that wasn’t going to help.
“I’ll be less than ten away if you need me for anything,” I said.
“Take a plate, man,” he said, waving to the island that was set up with half a dozen different meals.
“Can’t carry it on my bike,” I said. “I’ll come back and eat some leftovers tomorrow,” I said.
Eddie looked deflated at that.
Not, I didn’t think, because he was offended. But, I figured, because he thought it meant I wasn’t eating enough again.
I still had to sort out what was going on with that shit, but to ease his mind, I reached out and snagged what looked like some sort of turkey wrap, and took a bite.
“I’ll take this on the road with me, though. Thanks, man,” I added, taking another bite as I walked through the house.
I finished it before getting on my bike, then drove home, trying to fiddle around with some shit like I wasn’t biding my time to get to my room, to pull out that phone, to bring up the site, then sit and watch for Siana to come online.
But I only maybe stalled by half an hour.
I figured it was a win.
Or a partial one, at least.
It was another twenty minutes later when I saw her red circle go green.
She was on.
I tried to tell myself to wait, to not be desperate.
But I didn’t seem to have any pride as I opened a chat request. Then, when that was accepted after a short pause, opened up the video.
Hers didn’t come on right away, like she was debating whether or not to be on it.
Which was why I kept the camera aimed down on my chest and stomach, not my face.
If she wanted the illusion of anonymity, I would give it to her.
“There you are,” I said when her bare legs came into view.
There was a white tee that skirted her thighs, hiding her panties from me.
But I knew it would only be a couple of minutes before she was aching, before her hand was moving there, hiking up the shirt a bit, so I could watch.
I was dying to see more, but I wasn’t going to push it. Not yet.
“Been thinking of this all fucking day,” I admitted into the silence on her end of the video as my cock twitched to life.
I didn’t reach inside to free it, though.
I just let her watch it harden beneath my light blue sleep pants, the precum wetting the material like I knew her panties were getting wet right then too, judging by the way her thighs pressed more tightly together as she watched.
“Let me see your panties, baby,” I murmured, my chest feeling tight thanks to my hammering heart, my quick, shallow breaths.
There was a pause. Long enough for me to wonder if she wasn’t going to give me even that.
But then her hand was moving into view.
Her fingers weren’t like her toes. The nails were short and unpainted, looking like she maybe even chewed on them when she was anxious.
I liked that small glimpse of the real her. Not the show she put on for her content. Just her. Short, unpainted nails and all.
She pulled up the edge of the tee, exposing panties that were almost the same color as my damn sleep pants.
When she shifted her position slightly, I could see that I was right about her being as wet as I hoped.
“Fuck, baby,” I groaned, reaching down to rub my palm over the head of my cock. “Slip your hand under for me.”
I watched as her hand slid across her leg, then between her thighs, starting to slip into the material.
“Are you going—“ I started.
Only to be cut off by a sound that had my blood running fucking cold.
Pop pop pop.
I knew gunshots when I heard them.
And they sounded really fucking close.
“Get down,” I commanded as Siana’s breath sucked in. “Siana, get down,” I snapped when she didn’t seem to move.
Then there was another pop pop pop.
The tablet fell onto the bed, the camera turning black as it met the bedding.
Then… nothing.
Fuck.
“Fuck,” I hissed, tossing my phone, then reaching for my other one as I climbed out of bed.
I scrolled my contacts, finding Sion’s number as I went to my closet to yank off my sleep pants and pull on jeans, then a tee, as the phone rang.
I went deeper into my closet, grabbing a locked box where I stored one of my guns.
“Alaric, wasn’t expecting to hear—“ Sion started.
“I need Siana’s address,” I said, clicking a fresh magazine into my gun, then rushing out of my bedroom.
“Siana? The feet creator?” he asked.
“Sion, now.”
“I can’t fucking give you that information. You know that,” he said.
“Listen, I was on a video chat with her, and a bunch of fucking gunshots rang out,” I said.