Page 18 of Hate Mates

Turn on your camera.

There’s no response. No argument, no dots, just stone cold silence. I’m disappointed. If she thinks I’m going to let her continue to think she’s getting off to my commands without an audience, she didn’t read the fine print.

You want to watch me?

Yes.

Is that your kink?

I chuckle. She’s too much of a flight risk to know my kink.

No.

I wait out another morality crisis.

Doesn’t that violate ClickBait rules?

Fuck the rules.

The only ones that matter are mine.

How do I know you’ll keep it to yourself?

Because I’d burn the world before letting it see an inch of her porcelain skin.

You don’t. Trust goes both ways, love.

The silence on her end is doing dangerous things to my head, when a reply appears.

I don’t know.

Time for some tough love.

You have twenty seconds to click that link, or I find a new plaything.

I’ve barely hit send before those dots bounce.

No! I’ll do it. Just give me a second to figure it out.

I pour another drink while I wait, my tongue sliding across my teeth in rapt anticipation. At the twenty-second mark, I’m too impatient and reach for the keyboard, when a square screen pops up.

All the air rushes out of my lungs.

Izzy is sitting cross-legged on a pristine white comforter in the mansion she feels she doesn’t belong. It’s a ridiculous notion. She owns every room she walks into and claims every eye.

Especially mine.

She has her long dark brown hair pulled back in another one of those damn ponytails. However, I’m pleased to see she’s traded her usual T-shirt and jeans for a simple, white cotton dress.I groan, the ache between my legs intensifying.

Holy hell, if I don’t get on with this, my balls might explode.

Good girl. Take off your dress.

Her eyes widen, her hands hesitating before reaching for the keyboard.

All the way?

Yes. Don’t question me again.

---