I swallow. The heat growing more intense. My underwear has suddenly become a makeshift torture device, rubbing against my clit. I almost run toward the shower. Turn the pressure up hot and blast myself back to our cave in Emerald Cove.
DakkyDuck: It might be difficult to touch me in a room full of people.
TheRealCreator: I bet I can find a way. Give me your address, Dakota.
DakkyDuck: Why? Are you coming over?
After clicking send, I wish I could take the message back. Am I coming across as too keen? Desperate, even?
TheRealCreator: I can’t. All it takes is one photo. The world will think you’re trying to sleep your way to the top. And that I’m a cliched billionaire using his position to take what he wants.
DakkyDuck: Why do you want my address then?
TheRealCreator: I’m sending you something. What’s your dress size?
My throat threatens to close for a moment. I’ve got better self-esteem than most, I’d say. It takes a lot to be on stream for hours on end, being endlessly critiqued. But something about this makes me hesitate.
Another two messages come through and one is his phone number!
TheRealCreator: This is my personal number xxx-xxx-xxx. Text me if you need anything before the big day.
TheRealCreator: And if you’re feeling bad for even a moment, you better stop right this second. Otherwise, it’ll be more than touching on Friday, beautiful. I’ll have to spank that thick, perfect ass, so you know how wrong it is to doubt how perfect you are.
A smile spreads across my face. I rub my legs together, relieving some of the tension there in the least satisfying way possible. It just makes me wish he were here even harder.
I send a message with my dress size, then add.
DakkyDuck: You’re not going to put me in some super short dress or something silly, are you?
TheRealCreator: I’d be setting myself up for disaster if I did that. You’re there so I can eye-fuck you, nobody else. I’m trying to avoid a PR nightmare. If I saw another man ogling you, it’d be game over. Bye-bye, company. I doubt anybody would want to work with me after I throw a man through a window.
I laugh, knowing I should resent this at least a little bit. He doesn’t own me. What right does he have to say things like that?
But I like it, probably more than I should.
CHAPTER 12
JACKSON
Iwalk through the dimly lit, large function hall. Everyone stands around with an air of anticipation. It’s just thirty minutes until the door opens and the guests come filing in. Industry leaders, video game journalists, photographers, andstreamers. I’m aching just thinking about seeing her in person.
Work has kept me away from the game and mostly away from her streams. Five days of seventeen-hour shifts, grinding until my eyes feel like they’re bleeding. And now I’m here, with a chance to relax. I sip a beer and remind myself to play this cool. I have to speak to everyone, when all I really want is to make a beeline for Dakota and carry her out of here.
One wrong picture…
Elena Voss approaches me. I offer her a smile, hoping she believed me when I said I’m going to make things right concerning her promotion. I can’t blame her for seeming less chirpy than usual.
“I’ve just got a call from the limo company we contract with,” she says. “Are we confirming that they’re picking up…” She glances at her phone. “Dakota Vale? She’s a streamer, I believe.”
Dammit. I called them myself because I wanted to avoid this.
“That’s correct,” I say.
“But not for any other streamers?”
“They all arranged their own travel,” I reply, waving a hand. “Is there anything else?”
“No… sir.”
