Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I press play.
The video starts with Chloe struggling against her restraints, her eyes wide behind her mask.
“I’ve been a bad girl,” she says.
Her latest video is there, the one I saw in person. I hit play, my breath catching as I watch the scene unfold from a new angle.
Chloe’s voice fills my room, erotic and alluring. “I saw someone today,” she purrs, and I shiver, knowing she’s talking about me. I watch, transfixed, as she pleasures herself, describing in vivid detail what she wished I had done to her.
My hand drifts to my lap, almost of its own accord. I know this is wrong—
I can’t do this. Not yet. Not yet . . .
I shut off my phone, my hands shaking. The night’s revelations swirl in my mind. As I sit there in my truck, I realize that everything has changed. The game has shifted, the rules rewritten. And I’m not sure if I’m the protector anymore, or just another moth drawn to Chloe’s flame.
I start the engine again, my mind made up. I need to see her again, to look into her eyes knowing what I know now. To see if I can spot a glimmer of BlackAsChlo behind Chloe’s innocent facade.
Chapter Ten
Chloe
“Hello?” I call out as I walk toward the window.
Why am I saying hello to a potential serial killer standing outside my window? And why in the hell am I walking toward him?
My heart pounds as I take another step. The rational part of my brain tells me it was the wind. I didn’t hear anything more than a tree branch falling. My chance meeting with Tyler today is making me paranoid. But the irrational part, the part that’s been on high alert since I saw his face at the cafe, insists there’s someone out here. And when I came home today, my walkway had been shoveled again.
I take another hesitant step, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. I strain my ears, listening for any sound that might confirm my fears.
Silence.
Then, a soft scraping noise. My breath catches in my throat. That was definitely not the wind.
I should run. I should turn around, grab my phone, and lock myself in the bathroom. But my body isn’t listening to reason. I’m moving forward again, my hand outstretched toward the window to crack it open so I can hear better.
Still silence.
It’s nothing. I’m just acting crazy.
But not crazier than coming home almost immediately after my date . . . not date . . . maybe date . . . with Jack and obsessing over every little detail of our conversation. Not crazier than going on Dark Secrets tonight and getting my rocks off for all my subscribers.
Giving up and closing the window, I return to my computer, my heart rate slowly returning to normal. I settle into my chair, the soft glow of the screen illuminating my face in the dimly lit room. My fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to do mindless scrolling through Dark Secrets and seeing what fun pics and videos I can find.
But I can’t shake the unease. My eyes keep darting to the window, half-expecting to see a face pressed against the glass. I will myself to focus on my feed, but the images blur together, failing to capture my attention or arouse me like they usually do.
A soft ping from my phone makes me jump. I grab it, heart racing again, but it’s a notification from Dark Secrets. A new message. Probably from one of my regular subscribers, asking for a custom video or a private chat.
I open the app, my finger hovering over the message icon. But something catches my eye in the notifications tab. A new follower. I tap on it, curiosity overriding my lingering fear.
The username makes my blood run cold: WinterWatcher.
It can’t be. It’s a coincidence, right? But as I click on the profile, the bio reads: “I like to watch from afar. Always from afar.”
My hands shake as I scroll through WinterWatcher’s activity. He’s liked every single one of my posts from the past month already.
He’s studying me.
My mind races, trying to connect the dots. Tyler at the cafe. The shoveled walkway. The noise outside my window. And now this . . . WinterWatcher.
I close the app, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. It’s too much of a coincidence.
Tyler?
No, this is ridiculous.
I’m in my head. I know I can get like this once I get worked up. It’s not easy being a single woman living alone in New York.
Tyler is nice. Too nice.
That’s the problem. That’s why I’m not interested in him. I want a man who can dominate me. Someone who can make me cry out as he spanks me, who can tie me up and make me beg for release.
But now my thoughts return to Jack. Jack is nice. Is he too nice?