I navigated to the cam site controls on my phone and requested a private session, adding a healthy tip to the fee for rushing him. I usually did the cam shows on my computer so Icould see Shiloh on a larger screen—feel more like he was really in the room, life-size, with me—but today, I was too impatient.
Shiloh accepted the request. When he came on-screen, he was turned to the side in profile. Beautiful as ever. I couldn’t imagine why he thought he needed to do any prep for this.
“You’re always so beautiful,” I murmured.
He tilted his head toward the camera slightly, still showing mostly only one side of his face. I hadn’t seen him affect this bashful pose since our very first session. With a moniker like ShyGuy, he’d needed to play the part, at least for a while. When he shed the shy persona, though, that’s when he really hooked his viewers.
He was flirty and sensual, oozing charisma, and somehow genuine in every word and deed, even though I knew logically it was all an act.
The corner of Shiloh’s lips tipped up. “You flatter me.”
“You deserve flattery.”
His breathing hitched.
I wasn’t sure what clued me in. The tense set of his shoulders. The unsteady breaths.
“Shy?” I said in concern. “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” he said quickly. He raised his hand, but the Ring Pop was missing. He hesitated a beat, as if thrown, then slid his middle finger slowly into his mouth.
It was undeniably hot. But I didn’t like that I couldn’t see all of him.
“Face me. Let me see.”
He turned his head only a fraction.
“More,” I growled. “I want to watch your hot mouth suck your fingers like you’re desperate for cock.”
He hesitated again. Moaned, though it sounded more faked than usual. I didn’t kid myself into believing healwaysgot intoeverything we did as much as me, but he was usually a better actor.
He still didn’t turn to face me. Something was off about the whole thing.
“Stop,” I said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Shiloh pulled his finger from his mouth. “Sorry. I should have canceled. I just…I can’t afford to—” He stopped short. “I’ll give you a refund.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “Just talk to me.”
“Okay,” he said softly. “How was your day?”
“How wasyourday?” I countered. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Just watched Netflix all day. Like I told you earlier,” he said, his voice artificially bright.
“Shiloh, please look at me.”
Slowly, he turned to face the camera at last. His eyes were wary, maybe a little scared. His hair was perfectly styled, falling in silky waves over his forehead. And his jaw?—
I hissed, taking in the ugly bruise showing through the makeup he’d applied.
“Who did that?” I snarled.
“It’s not important.”
“The hell it’s not,” I said, anger pulsing through me. “Did a boyfriend do this? It’s not okay for him to hurt you, no matter what he says.”
He looked startled by my fierceness. But I knew all about abuse, about being convinced it was your fault, that you deserved it.
