Page 7 of Sinfully Mine

“Yeah. I am.”

“Road name?”

“Xenon.”

She blinked. “That’s interesting.”

“It formed because I’m good with computers.” Among other things.

“I see. And your real name?”

“Sean Hunter Moore. Most everyone calls me Hunter. Well, everyone but my club.”

“Because they call you Xenon.”

“Yeah, baby, they do.”

The prettiest smile curled her lips. “I like Hunter.”

“Then call me Hunter.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Nope. You can call me whatever you want. I’ll answer.”

Fuck, I was laying it on too thick. It got cheesy and cliché. I nearly cringed. This wasn’t like me, but I seemed to have difficulty staying cool around Grace. She made my Reaper want to hunt her down and stalk her until I could make her mine.

It wouldn’t hurt to trace her IP address and find out where she lived. Just to ensure she stayed safe. Right?

And maybe install a camera.

“We should think about meeting soon. Like for a coffee or something.”

“I’m up for it.” I didn’t care how far I had to ride my bike to reach her. I’d meet her wherever and whenever she wanted. I knew she lived in Las Vegas, about three hours from Tonopah. But the exact address? We hadn’t talked about it yet.

“Good. I’ve got to go, Hunter. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Have a great night!”

“You too, Grace.”

I saw her push away from her desk and I leaned back, fully prepared for her screen to switch off. When it kept the live feed going even after she stood, walking across the room to her bed, I knew she’d forgotten to exit the video chat. That detail became apparent when she began to undress, taking off all her clothes except for her pale pink bra and panties.

If I was a good man, I would have logged off and exited the chat without her knowing what I could see. I didn’t. A part of me couldn’t resist dragging my gaze over every exposed inch of skin, noting the tattoos on her stomach and the smooth contour of her belly. When she walked into the bathroom, I thought she’d notice the camera while she fussed over her appearance before she walked out. She never did.

Instead of the light makeup she usually wore, Grace added darker eye shadow, liner, and a bolder lip color. She fluffed her hair and added pigtails, transforming her image into a younger version that seemed almost doll-like.

Then, her new persona emerged.

Grace picked out a frilly white dress from her dresser that barely covered her ass as she tugged it on, short enough that the full puffy skirt brushed her upper thighs as she walked to her bed and climbed onto it on all fours, flashing me her bare cheeks and soft thighs since her lacey pink thong didn’t cover much.

But when she sat back, positioned her laptop in front of her on a solid base that enabled her to become hands-free, and then spread her legs, I was a goner. Nothing in this fucking world could have pulled my attention away from Grace as she picked up a huge red lollipop, unwrapped it, and began to lick the surface.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

My cock swelled and pressed against the zipper on my jeans, and I yanked the zipper down, freeing my erection. One hand wrapped around the base, gently gliding from root to tip as I resisted the urge to groan. My Gracey, a good girl, had a naughty side. And I was fucking front and center, prepared to view her show without interruption.

Would she hate me if she realized I never left the chat and remained to watch? Would she think I was a creep for sticking around and not letting her know that I could see and hear everything?

Fuck. I muted myself since I didn’t want her to hear me groan or breathe heavily because I had a feeling it was going to get wild and carnal, and I would see every bit of Grace before the night ended. I sure hoped I did.

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