Page 99 of Dare To Break

The cell vibrates.

Unknown: Good girl. Remember not to touch yourself again, Kitten. I want you aching and wet for me tomorrow.

Me: Ok.

Unknown: And no letting Miles touch you before then. Understand? Green or red?

I smile and give him what he wants.

Me: Green.

I wash my hands a second time before drying them, and then leave the bathroom to find Miles exactly where I left him. When he doesn’t look up, the tension in my shoulders ebbs.

I’ve just been naughty, and he has no idea. Joining him on the bed, I can’t stop thinking about what will happen tomorrow night.

Will it just be him or his friend too? Is he looking at the photograph of my pussy right now? Is he touching himself?

Chapter 64

Eli

“I should buy you a maid’s outfit.”

Kellan sets down the tray with my breakfast on it without a word, but I see the smirk curving his lips up as he turns away.

“Something skimpy,” I continue, investigating the covered plates. “With fishnets and high heels.”

“Are you feeling frisky this morning?” He drops onto his bed and bites into a slice of toast. “Have you been rummaging through my stuff? How do you know that’s what I plan to wear for Halloween?”

I choke on a mouthful of coffee. “You’re not serious?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not.” His teeth flash in a smile. “It’d be funny as fuck though, wouldn’t it?”

“Lacy would lose her shit.” Hmmm, Lacy. That reminds me of something, and I reach for my cell. Opening the school’s social media app, I find her name and open messages.

Me: Arabella has a diary. Find it for me and I’ll do your mural. Tell her, and I’ll ruin the entire evening.

Her response is a thumbs-up emoji and a heart.

Closing the app, I navigate to the cloud storage I set up and open the photograph Arabella sent me the night before. Her pussy is glistening, her clit peeking out of its hood. I wonder how many times she almost backed out before her need for praise overruled common sense. Because common sense should have had her refusing to send pussy pics to an unknown person over the internet. I wouldn’t send a dick pic to someone I didn’t know just because they asked for it.

I tap the screen, and enlarge the photograph, smiling at the beads of arousal evident on the fingers holding her pussy open. Her fingers are nestled in fine golden curls, and I make a mental note to take a pair of scissors with me later.

My smile widens as an idea comes to me, and I reach for the other cell.

Me: Where are you?

Prey: In bed.

Me: Get up, drop your pants, take a photograph of everything from the waist down. I want your pussy and legs front and center. You have twenty seconds.

Three dots appear, disappear, appear again, but no message comes through.

“Count to twenty.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

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