“Sure it isn’t,” Aiden says with a snicker.
I roll my eyes and grab Mickey’s decapitated head by the hair. “Let’s get this shit done so I can leave.”
“So you can see your sister?” Aiden teases.
I give him a warning look. “So I can see my stepfather.”
Aiden sobers, all the joy leaching from him. I know exactly how he feels. My stepfather sucks the joy out of you and spits you out when he’s done. The only positive of being at his house is stealing glances at Madison when she isn’t paying attention. I worry I won’t be able to resist her this time around, since Aiden’s question still haunts me.
It’s tempting. Way too fucking tempting, and my will can only go so far until I break.
“PLAY PRETEND” MARGØ
Being a cam girl and influencer is exhausting. It’s so much more involved than people realize. Outsiders think it’ssoeasy to take pictures and post them. They see a video of me swaying to a Satan’s Priest song like it was written just for me. What they don’t see is me squeezing into the cosplay outfit and remaking the video hundreds of times until it’s perfect.
My aunt almost walked in on me once. I was recording a video while dressed in a cat e-girl outfit, bouncing on myheels to shake my tits for the camera. It would have been an embarrassing moment. Thank god for door locks.
But doing this is what’s making me money. Money I desperately need if I want to get out of my arranged marriage.
I drag my finger down my bare chest, pinch my pierced nipple, then cup my breast for the camera. My regular client, CallMeSir69, watches in the private chat. A small moan slips out of me as I squeeze my tit, imagining it’s someone else’s hand.
“I’ve been a bad girl, Sir,” I say, pitching my voice higher, which is what he likes.
The message bubbles dance on the screen before Sir’s text appears.
CallMeSir69
Have you now? You know what that means, baby girl?
I shyly smile and nod. “You’re going to punish me.”
That’s right. Get my favorite toy out. You know what to do.
Biting back a smile, I reach for my nightstand and grab the bottle of lube and a pink butt plug.
Over the last two weeks while talking to Sir, I learned he’s an ass man. He gets off to me sticking things in my back hole—either butt plugs or large dildos I’ve collected over the last few months. And Sir pays a lot of money every time we’re in a private session. Enough for me to get closer to my goal of moving out of my dad’s house.
No matter how I tried to seem unappealing to the potential suitors my dad paired me with, Justin agreed to take my hand in marriage. Maybe it’s out of pity. Perhaps it’s because I don’t show interest and Justin enjoys the chase. All I know is I can’tstand him, and the thought of having Justin touch me makes me want to puke.
My life’s purpose is to join two powerful families by marriage and pop out an heir who will assume my father’s legacy. One that’s bathed in blood.
I’m not supposed to know what my father does when he isn’t working as a middle school principal. He’s part of a secret society—a cult, to be exact—and he’s a King. Over the years, the power of that position went to my father’s head.
I don’t want to be used as some object he can trade for his gain. If I have to gnaw off my own leg to escape him and this looming marriage, then I will. In the meantime, I pop the cap off the lube and squeeze the cold liquid onto the bulbous plug’s tapered end.
A new message chimes, snagging my attention.
Get on all fours and show what belongs to me.
My face flushes with heat. The idea of belonging to someone completely turns me off. I don’t belong to anyone, nor do I want to. That’s why I’m trying to get out of this hellhole.
During our sessions, I turn off the regular side of me and play the part he’s expecting of me. My body reacts to his words like they matter, even though in my mind I couldn’t care less. While I cam for him, I imagine what he really looks like. His picture is a stock image of a man’s suit-clad torso, his hand caught mid-motion as he pulls his tie undone, but my mind conjures an image of a tall man with dark hair. He’s handsome, maybe even covered in tattoos. He has piercing blue eyes, like I’m looking into a turbulent ocean as its waves crash into a cliff.
The same color as Ryder’s eyes.
I shake away the wandering thoughts about my stepbrother. It’s not right, imagining him while I’m doing something he’d flip a gasket over.
“I’m so wet for you, Sir. I’m sorry for being a bad girl,” I say, playing into the role he’s paying me for.
