God, if I could meet him just once, I’d let him do the filthiest things to me.
As I watch him lean back in his chair, those piercing eyes narrowing down at the camera, I imagine myself kneeling before him and—
“Blair, are you—”
I let out a squeal and drop my phone to the ground at the sudden interruption.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry. Let me grab that.” Crystal leans down to grab my phone, but I launch my arm out to secure the device between my fingers before she has the chance.
“Will you be a good girl for me today? Or will I have to punish you tonight?”
Phantom’s voice bleeds through my singular earbud, the live stream still playing on my phone.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
I scramble to click off my phone without flipping the screen around. The last thing I need is for Crystal to get a peek and go gabbing to Mother about the strange guy in red mood lighting and a mask I was questionably salivating over in the back corner of the hair salon.
My earbud goes silent, and I mentally clap myself on the back for the quick save.
With practiced precision, I sit my ass firmly back in the chair and smile up at Crystal.
“Sorry, I was totally zoned out. Not your fault at all.”
She waves her hand. “It’s normal. Lean back for me a bit more. I want to check the foils to see how you’re developing.”
I rest my tense shoulders against the back of the leather chair. My body is a complete mess right now, panic and desire mixing in a way that isn’t the sexy kind.
“Okay, I took a few out, but the rest I’m going to leave for like five more minutes. Then, we’ll wash you out and I’ll put the toner through. Sound good?”
“Peachy.”
She disappears once again, but this time, I don’t dare indulge in my fantasy. While I’m back in town, it’s probably safer to keep my secrets to dark of night.
CHAPTER THREE
ELI
No one ever knows how awkward it can be to create thirst traps alone in your room on a casual Thursday morning.
Streaming video games and playing competitively with gamers and esports players across the world is easy. Feeding into the frenzy of thirsty men, women, and everyone in between is a whole other ballgame. There is a fuck ton of pressure in creating thirst traps, and half the time they feel cringe as fuck.
But they make me a shit ton of money. So, who am I to complain?
I rip off my balaclava, tossing it on my desk where my sick PC setup rests. Wearing that mask for too long gets too fucking hot, especially when I have to talk. I own five or six of the same design at this point, rotating them out between filming.
My phone buzzes from where it is still hooked up to my tripod, and I unscrew it to see who’s bothering me so early in the morning.
NightBlade32:yo you cringe fuck
I let out a scoff. Dude always has to be an ass.
Blade is a fellow masked video game streamer but with over triple the number of followers I have. We crossed paths at aconvention a few months back, and I’ve been linking up for streams with his crew ever since.
I swipe the Discord chat open and type back.
Phantom:what asshole?
