Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
His eyes never leave mine, and they burn into me with intensity. I remember those eyes and noticing in Paris how unusual they are. It was when he had me pushed up against the wall with his fingers inside me, when he’d demanded I hold eye contact with him as I came. I came so hard staring into those eyes, noting they were green, and the irises were rimmed with translucent brown. I’d never seen eyes like that before. The thought sends a shiver through me, and he must detect that, because his hand travels up my back and comes to rest in my hair. I can’t hear what he says, but I feel the rush of his hot breath on my ear as he leans down to whisper to me. A feeling travels in tingles down my spine and back up again, coming to rest in my belly, leaving me with a full but desperately needy feeling.
I was going to say “Yes,” despite not knowing what he’s even said, but then he spins me so my back is to him, and the surprise of it makes me laugh out loud. When I look back at him, he’s smiling too. With a hand across my waist, he backs my ass up firmly to him, and I feel his cock through his pants, growing harder as we dance. I reach my hand up and touch his hair. It’s perfectly coifed, pulled away from his forehead, and when I touch it, I’m happy to find it’s soft and thick. His hands are so big his fingers rest just by my bellybutton, and I’m getting more and more eager to feel those hands other places, places not appropriate for this club.
Suddenly, from deep in my subconscious I wonder, “Where’s WildCaptain?” It comes from nowhere. I was having fun, turned on, and I don’t have any reason to feel guilty, but I do. Why do I feel like I’m cheating on him? He’s supposed to be a client, not my friend, certainly not my boyfriend. Obviously he has a life aside from our cam sessions. It’s only me I realize who barely has any life other than my time with him. How had I become so needy for this stranger? So dependent?
I can’t stand the music anymore. The blinking lights. I need to escape, even if it means running away from Chris, someone I actually do know in real life, someone I could have a real life experience with, even if only for a night. But the dancefloor starts tipping on its axis, and I start to feel woozy. I break away from Chris’s tight hand on my waist and bolt toward the balcony.
The cold air hits me like a shot, and I inhale sharply, pushing through small groups of smokers outside. I focus my eyes on the Chrysler building, uptown and in the distance, and I run and don’t stop until my hands have the firm bannister underneath them and I can lean against the wall. I take deep breaths, trying to slow down my heartbeat, trying to push away the doubts about my life choices, my attachment to WildCaptain, the totally bizarre turn my life has taken in the last four months.
“Weaver.” It’s Chris coming across the balcony, a camel wool coat thrown across his arm. He opens it up as he gets closer to me and places it on my shoulders. “What happened?”
“I’m sorry,” I start. “You’ve just taken me by surprise. Like really, really by surprise. It’s just incredible to run into you here. After all these months. There are hundreds of bars and clubs in this city. And I never go out. Like ever. The one night I go out, I run into you, and it’s just freaky. It’s like you knew where to find me.”
He stares at me, with the same intensity from before, and he isn’t smiling, not saying anything. And as I look at him, at his steady expression and confidence, everything starts to click.
“How did you know I’d be here?” I ask, raising my voice now.
He smiles now but doesn’t break eye contact.
“You know how, Weaver,” he says, reaching out to take my trembling hands.
“Because I told you, didn’t I?” I reply, looking back into his eyes and finally understanding.
Chris is WildCaptain.
7
Chris
This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting months for. I didn’t know how she’d react, but I know exactly what I want to happen. That night together in Paris was all I’ve thought about for the past four months. I keep imagining her, her hair tossed around her gorgeous face as she looked over her shoulder at me as I fucked her. I keep remembering how completely free she was that night. She didn’t have a single inhibition. She gave herself completely to me, and she also took everything she wanted. It was just a single night of sex—explosive, intense sex—but I couldn’t help but feel a strong attraction to her and desire for more.