“Your place is…” Grant appeared to struggle with the right descriptor. “Nice,” he finished lamely. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and that usualscowl darkened his features. Taken out of his element, he appeared more tense and jumpy than he was at the club. Where was all that seductive resolve from dragging me out on the dance floor? It was obvious he had little experience with going to a woman's home. I'm sure he got all the ass he wanted from hanging out in Andrea's establishments.
I snorted, laughing at his blatant discomfort. “What, you thought I’d live in a warehouse or something?” The bundle of keys rattled loudly as I tossed them into the wooden bowl by the front door and shed my riding jacket. Silently, I held my hand out and gestured to take his as well.
He chuckled, but it was a strained sound. “I suppose I did. You don’t exactly give off the air of someone who is organized. Or lived in a remotely normal type of housing.”
“Oh, fuck right off with that!” I laughed, snatching his offered jacket and neatly hanging it in the small coat closet with my own. “You hungry? I think I have some spaghetti leftovers, or we can order delivery. Menus are on the fridge.”
It was cute, seeing Grant hover hesitantly by the door like he was tempted to bolt. Apparently he was way out of his comfort zone, coming home with me. It made me want to snuggle him to death and maybe chomp on his neck. Instead, I waved my hand over my shoulder and walked toward my bedroom down the hall.
“Make yourself at home,” I called back. If he was still standing by the door by the time I got changed, I wouldn’t be shocked. That guy was more tightly wound than a spring.
Changing quickly to the standard hot pink lingerie and long-sleeved mesh bolero with a frilly robe, I snatched up two plain black masks from the top of my dresser before walking back into the living room. Grant hadn’t moved far, barely stepping out of the entryway to stare at a landscape painting of foggy Ireland moors. But the sound of him choking on air when he saw myoutfit had me smiling fiendishly. I tossed the extra mask at him and continued walking through the room to my office and filming room. He fumbled and barely caught it. Maybe he would loosen up with some more… enticing activities.
“Come along,” I called back in a sing-song voice.
The scuff of his socked feet on my carpet was the only indication that Grant followed me into the dark room, despite his hesitation. I reached over for the remote to turn on strings of LED lights strung along the walls and tossed it on the desk holding my recording setup. For now, I kept the three-point lighting system off, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed and pose like the profile picture I used for Prey to Play. “Here’s where the magic happens,” I said with a wry grin.
He took a couple steps toward the desk, interested in the equipment pointed at the bed. “Looks like the setups I’ve seen for gaming streamers. Ever thought about switching hustles?”
I laughed and crossed a leg over the other. The robe’s slit spread to show both legs to the thigh, lined on either side with wild pink feathers, drawing Grant’s attention to the newly bared skin. One of his eyebrows rose in interest. “Does the camgirl thing bother you that much?” I asked.
“Camming? No. Going after viewers that have been doing illegal shit on the dark web? Absolutely. I’m sure you’re aware of how badly that could backfire. What if you walk into a trap? Or get in over your head with a target?” His lips turned into a deep frown, and his arms folded over his chest as he wandered over to the computer desk. “Why don’t you just hand their information off to someone else to take care of? Why bother going to such lengths just to kill a few meaningless roaches? You know, for every one you kill, another three will crawl out of whatever crevice you found them.”
“You sound like Taylor.” My tone was waspish, but frankly I didn’t give a shit. No one seemed to understand why Ineededto rid the world of those cretins. I pushed myself off the bed and brushed past him to turn on the streaming equipment one by one. Grant squinted against the bright lights that flared to life beside him. “If you don’t like it, you can fuck off. I told you before, I’m not changing anything about myself to bend to whatever version you think you’re attracted to. It won’t–”
I was going to say it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if he left. But the lie caught in my throat with painful barbs. He didn’t sound like a jealous asshole who was worried about other men seeing my body. Grant was genuinely concerned for my well-being while hunting down the sex offenders associated with the camming. Could I really be mad at him for that?
“Do you wear a mask for every cam session?”
The question seemed innocent enough. I glanced over my shoulder to meet his worried expression, his eyes set on me as I set everything up. Like he was looking for assurance. “I do,” I answered simply. “Usually it's a replica of the mask I use in public without all the tech inside it, but sometimes I switch it up. And the mics are set to auto-tune, so the sound is edited a bit to sound lower on the livestream.”
He nodded, somewhat mollified by my precautions. “What’s with the sleeves? Afraid you’ll get cold?”
I tried not to tense at the comment. The bite marks discretely hidden beneath the mesh prickled like tiny shards of ice were shoved into my skin, and a wave of gooseflesh ran down my arms. Taylor was the only person I’d shown the scars to, and I wasn’t planning on changing that today. “It’s called fashion, ever heard of it?” I gestured to his tight-laced outfit, with the plain white button-up and black slacks. “And I wouldn’t take my fashion advice from someone who acts like they’re allergic to color! Not that you’re wearing that for much longer, anyway.”
One corner of his lips quirked in a smile, and a small dimple appeared on his left cheek. “Maybe I just like things to be simple.”
“Psh, then you’re with the wrong person!” I scoffed. Throwing my hands out to either side, I continued, “Not sure what ever gave you the impression anything associated with me was simple! Take it or leave it, puppy.”
The use of my nickname for him had Grant twitching, maybe unconsciously, and jerking his head to break eye contact. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
“What, puppy? Aren’t you the infamous Bloodhound? Considering I was hacking while you were a feckin’ teen, it felt appropriate. Kind of ironic you went after someone called Cyber_Foxthough, ain’t it? Not that bloodhounds make for good fox hunting dogs, but it’s kind of cute to think you sniffed me out like one.”
“Not really,” Grant muttered. “I had help this time.” He seemed petulant about that, too. Something seemed to cross his mind because he suddenly froze up, eyes widening then narrowing at a point on the far wall.
A small chime signaled a notification came in on the Prey to Play site, reminding me the stream I had scheduled for tonight started in ten minutes. “So, puppy, are you in or out tonight? You can hang out in the living room until I’m done if you’re not interested in fucking.” I made a point to come off as crude and casual as possible, maybe for my benefit as much as his. That’s all this would be. Casual sex, with no strings attached. The bluntness of the question seemed to startle him a bit, his body stiffening like setting concrete in the hot Vegas sun.
It felt like I waited a year for him to face me again, not realizing how intensely I’d been staring at his sharp profile until Grant turned his attention back to me. Still a bit guarded, his eyes drifted down every inch of my loud appearance. It didn’tfeel like a judgmental look. More like… apprehension mixed with no small amount of hunger as his gaze when it made its way back up to my face. I’d left the smoky dark makeup on from the club and just barely touched up the dark pink lip stain. Wordlessly, I slipped the simple black mask that covered the upper half of my face and picked up the camera remote, moving over to perch on the edge of the bed in a silent gesture of invitation.
My computer screen flickered with the welcome page viewers found when they logged into the livestream, and the chat room began to fill with comments of watchers entering the waiting room in anticipation of tonight’s show. I hadn’t mentioned anything about a ‘guest’ in this session, so they would be pleasantly surprised. A countdown had begun in the middle of the vibrant pink graphic with a stylized fox head showing less than five minutes until the livestream.
“Puppy?”
The word fell heavy from my lips and shattered the uneasy silence between us. Like he had been knocked from a stupor, Grant jolted a little and blinked before glancing over to the timer. “Yeah,” the answer seemed to surprise him as much as me. “Yes, I’m in.”
My chest warmed with some kind of fluffy, fuzzy emotion. Excitement? Happiness? This wasn’t the first time I had another man on my channel, but for some reason I didn’t want to inspect too deeply, I wanted to share this with Grant. Maybe I wanted to show him off to all the people tuning in that objectified me and made heinous demands they felt entitled to just because they paid to watch. They thought they owned this part of my life. Not that I hated camming or felt bitter toward it; in a way the experience was cathartic, letting me take back the sexuality Elio stole from me for a few hundred thousand euros. Maybe this wasthe beginning of letting Grant into those darker parts of my life too.
The computer chimed again, playing the electronic dubstep song to open the session. Grant was frozen in the middle of the room as I turned to face the camera, pulling a bent knee up to lay sideways on top of the mattress and brace a hand to lean in a little. “Hey, babes,” I opened with my normal line, voice low and sultry but loud enough for the sensitive boom mic hovering overhead to pick up. “I hope you’re ready for tonight’s session, because I brought a real treat for us to nibble on.” My eyes shifted over to Grant with a sensual smile to the audience. “And trust me when I say he’syummy. Be nice to Puppy, chat. We don’t want to scare him off.”
