Himtaking whathewants, viciously stroking my cock.
As I’m on the edge of coming, my phone rings again, knocking me all the way down.
I answer with a frustrated growl. “Lose my fucking number, you psycho!”
Rooke chuckles in my ear. “You sound out of breath, boy. Am I interrupting?”
I go to end the call, but a rush of blood has my dick hardening in my hand. I fight back a groan, my back arching as I fumble with my phone using my non-dominant hand.
Thank fuck Rooke ends the call.
I give my cock a few slow strokes, but I’m so fucking close I can’t bear to?—
My phone rings.
I fumble to silence it, but instead of declining, my stupid dumb hand slides over the screen and accepts.
The screen goes dark as I enter a video chat with Rooke.
With my phone lying on the bed, all it’s showing on my side of the video feed is a pixelated shot of my ceiling. I quickly switchto the rear facing camera. Pitch black replaces noisy gray, and I can safely peer into the screen without Rooke seeing my face.
His feed is just as dark, but there’s the hint of a silhouette before I guess he changes his video to the rear-facing camera. A smear of orange enters then leaves the shot. Briefly, I think I make out Rooke’s sliding door, but the image glitches or something because it almost looks like it’s webbed with cracks.
Wasn’t like that when me and Haven left yesterday morning.
His fireplace comes into view again, and the camera pauses.
Rooke doesn’t speak, but I hear fabric rustle.
My paranoid mind comes up with the worst thing first.
Haven is with him, isn’t she?
That’s why he wanted me to come over.
He’s turning the phone to her, so I can see her naked on his couch in his fucking living room. Maybe he’s even going to force me to watch him fuck her again, recording the exact moment his cock pushes inside her wet cunt, just how I want to?—
The phone lowers. A coffee table comes into view, then Rooke’s bare feet and the bottom of his gray sweatpants.
The same ones from the photo he sent.
Still not a sound. Just a faint crackle from the fire. Clothing rustling. And?—
Skin on skin.
It’s unmistakable, because that’s what I’m hearing from my own crotch right now as I work my cock. It almost makes me stop, because…
That means we’re both jerking off. Right now.
But I keep thinking about that photo of Haven, legs spread and my fingers deep inside her cunt, and I can’t make my hand stop.
Can’t turn off my phone.
Can’t.
Stop.
Watching.
