Page 26 of Hunt Me
His webcam feed loads.
My breath stops.
Alexi sits back in his chair, lean muscles visible beneath an open shirt. His hand is wrapped around his cock—thick, hard, obscene in size. He strokes himself deliberately, green eyes locked on the camera.
Like he knows I’m watching.
“Good girl.” His voice comes through my speakers, rough and dark. “Watch me stroke myself for you.”
Heat floods my body. I should close the feed. Should shut this down immediately.
But I can’t look away.
His hand moves faster, grip tightening as he works himself. The sight does something catastrophic to my control. My thighs press together, seeking friction that isn’t there.
“Bet you’re squirming right now.” His breathing roughens. “Wondering if you should touch yourself while you watch.”
My hand slides down my stomach before conscious thought catches up.
No. Absolutely not. I don’t?—
But I’m already reaching into my desk drawer. Finding the vibrator I barely use. The dildo I bought on impulse months ago and never touched.
This is insane. I’m Iris Mitchell. I don’t fall apart over some exhibitionist hacker with a god complex.
Except I’m sliding my yoga pants down. Positioning myself in my chair. Wondering if he’s hacked my system too. If he’s watching me the way I’m watching him.
The thought makes me wetter.
I press the vibrator against my clit, gasping at the first jolt of sensation. On screen, Alexi’s hand moves faster, and I match hisrhythm without thinking. The dildo slides in easily—I’m already soaked, body betraying every rational thought I’ve ever had.
“That’s it.” His voice growls through the speakers. “Show me how badly you want it, Iris.”
I angle my laptop screen so that the camera captures everything.
Two can play this game.
The dildo slides deeper as I work myself open, thighs spread wide so he can see exactly what he does to me. My free hand grips the desk edge, knuckles white as pleasure builds in sharp, unfamiliar waves.
“Fuck.” Alexi’s breathing roughens through the speakers. “Look at you. Perfect little cunt taking that toy like you wish it was me.”
A moan escapes before I can stop it. High and desperate and nothing like the controlled version of myself I present to the world.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear you fall apart.” His hand moves faster on screen, pre-cum glistening on the head of his cock. “Bet you’re so wet right now. Bet you’d drip down my cock if I was there instead of that pathetic piece of silicone.”
I switch the vibrator to a higher setting, pressing it harder against my clit. The sensation makes my back arch, hips rolling to meet each thrust of the dildo.
“Tell me how it feels.” His voice drops lower, commanding. “Want to hear you say it.”
“Good.” The word comes out broken. “Feels so fucking good.”
“Better than when you touch yourself alone. Better than those cold, efficient orgasms you give yourself just to take the edge off?”
Yes. God, yes. This is nothing like the mechanical relief I usually seek. This is raw, filthy, and consuming.
“Answer me, Iris.”
“Yes.” I’m close already, body wound tight. “Better.”
