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)
As I watch, transfixed, a flurry of emotions courses through me. Shock, arousal, jealousy, and a twisted sense of pride all war for dominance. My sweet Chloe, the object of my obsession for so long, has depths I never imagined.
The chat window explodes with activity as Chloe—no, her alter ego—begins her performance. I can almost feel the heat of the laptop against her skin, the hungry eyes of faceless strangers drinking in every curve and gesture. My fists clench in my pockets, nails digging into my palms.
She moves with practiced grace, each motion calculated to tease and entice. The dress slips lower, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of lace underneath. I’m torn between averting my eyes and drinking in every detail, committing it to memory.
A car engine rumbles to life down the street, snapping me back to reality. I glance around nervously, suddenly aware of how exposed I am. If anyone were to see me now, lurking in the shadows, watching this private show . . .
When I look back, Chloe is holding something up to the camera. It takes me a moment to recognize it: a hot pink dildo, thick and large. My mouth goes dry as she runs it along her thigh, her lips curving into a wicked smile.
Holy shit this escalated quickly!
Is this what some melted chocolate does to a girl?
This is too much. I need to leave, to process what I’ve seen. But my feet feel rooted to the ground, my eyes locked on the window. I’ve watched Chloe for years, thinking I knew everything about her. Now, I realize I know nothing at all.
I took the girl out for hot cocoa like she was a virginal eighteen-year-old. Jesus she must think I’m a goddamn Boy Scout. Had I known . . .
She leans back further so I can get a better view of exactly where she plans to put that dildo. My legs go weak, and I have to grip the hedge to stay upright. I thought I was protecting her, keeping her safe from the darkness of the world. But she was already deep in it, reveling in it even.
I watch as she positions herself, ready to give her audience what they’re clamoring for. My fingers twitch toward my phone again, this time to open the Dark Secrets app. I could join the stream right now, be one of those faceless usernames cheering her on.
Will she see the light from my phone if I do?
I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the app icon. The temptation is overwhelming. But something stops me. Maybe it’s the last shred of decency I have left, or maybe it’s the fear of being caught. Either way, I force my hand back into my pocket.
The music changes into something lower. Enough so that I can actually hear her speak now as she inserts the dildo past her silky folds.
Holy shit! I’m staring at Chloe’s bare, and absolutely perfect pussy.
“Something happened today,” she says. “Something that got me in the mood to fuck myself for all of you to see.”
I press my face to the glass, straining to hear every word. My curiosity is piqued, overriding even my arousal.
“I saw someone today,” Chloe continues, her voice husky and breathless as she works the toy inside herself. “I had the most perfect day. Something right out of a Hallmark movie.” She giggles and then moans. “But it was very G rated.”
Fuuuuuuck me. She’s talking about me. About out meeting over cocoa and whip cream!
I lean in, my heart constricting as I strain to catch every word. Chloe’s voice is low and sultry, punctuated by soft moans as she pleasures herself.
“It was so innocent,” she continues, her breath catching. “We had hot chocolate and walked in the snow. He was such a gentleman.” She laughs, a sound caught between amusement and arousal. “If only he knew what I really wanted. You all know exactly what I want, don’t you?”
My mind reels. I struggle with a surge of conflicting emotions—shock, jealousy, arousal, and yes . . . embarrassment. How did I not pick up on this? My Chloe. My Chloe is . . .
“I wanted him to push me up against a wall,” Chloe gasps, her movements becoming more frantic. “To rip my clothes off and fuck me right there in the snow.”
Part of me wants to burst through her door, to be the man she’s describing. But I’m rooted to the spot, a voyeur to her darkest fantasies.
“But instead,” she pants, “I’m here with you. My faithful viewers. You know what I really need, don’t you?”
The chat explodes with comments. I can only imagine what they’re saying, what they’re asking her to do. Chloe reads a few aloud, each one filthier than the last. She complies with their requests, her body writhing on her black leather office chair.