Page 5 of Snow Cam Do

Check it again. I told you I provide for you now. Do you think I’d give you a direction and not also give you the means to carry it out? You are my toy now, little doll, and I always take good care of my playthings. -Not-So-Sweet Sugar Daddy

I giggle at the name I put into contacts for my mystery sugar daddy. He says he’s not sweet, but so far, he sure seems to be. I look at the screen of my laptop, and unsurprisingly, everything is loaded up and there are no 404 error messages on the screen.

His email has nerves rattling through me. It says he wants me to get into the car waiting for me downstairs and allow the driver to deliver me to a high-end boutique I’ve never dared to set foot in. He also says a crew will be at my place while I’m gone, installing cameras, so he can watch me in the rooms detailed by the contract to be viewing rooms.

Kitchen, living room, my bedroom, and even the en suite bathroom connected to my bedroom. The contract goes so far as to grant him permission to have cameras installed in the walk-in closet, so he can observe me dressing.

I suppose I should be thankful he’s allowing me to keep the second bathroom, the one where I’ve filmed cam shoots in the past, as a place to handle the more delicate personal business that are necessary. Being watched while I potty has never been a kink that worked for me. And okay, yeah, neither is dressing up like a T-rex and stomping around the room, but at least, that didn’t make me feel super gross.

Trying not to be freaked out that you know where I live. How do I know this car isn’t here to kidnap me? -Me

Do as you’re told, little doll. My driver would never kidnap you. It would displease me too greatly. You are safe in my hands, Greer Olivia Saddler. Now and always. -Not-So-Sweet Sugar Daddy

Maybe my self preservation instincts really are defunct. Before I can talk myself out of it, my feet are carrying me out of the condo and to the elevator. This time, when I get on to find the neighbor from the top floor, I allow myself to thoroughly check him out.

He’s got tons of height on me, and his shoulders are so broad I think I could sit on him like a throne and not have a single worry about falling. The fleeting image of using his shoulders like a throne for entirely perverted purposes slams into me. I take a step back, shocked by the unexpected and immediate bolt of lust that just rocked through me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m obviously a woman who’s comfortable with her sex drive. What I’m not, however, is accustomed to feeling impossible-to-ignore chemistry with strangers.

Our eyes meet and something passes between us. It feels hot and weighty. Like this man is important to me, even though we’ve barely spoken. He quirks an eyebrow at me, the dark slash bisected by a vicious scar that arcs from over his forehead clear to his chin. My eyes trace the white line to where it disappears behind the collar of his pressed white button-down shirt.

He clears his throat to catch my attention, and my eyes snap back to his. A hundred unspoken promises of pleasure and sinful bliss pass between us in an instant. My muscles loosen and tension I hadn’t even realized I was feeling releases. Something about this stranger feels so protective and safe. As if I could curl around him and he’d never let me feel anything other than good things.

“You getting on, little doll?” His chuckle at my expense should not feel this seductive.

Or, yeah, maybe, everything that just transpired is solely the overactive imagination my father always said would be my downfall. I should get on the damn elevator. I step forward, nudged by the cold metal doors closing at my back.

The car descends, and the sensation is the reminder I need of what I’d been doing. Following my new sugar daddy’s instructions. Which, though he’s not here to catch me, explicitly prohibits me from hooking up with other men or putting on shows for them.

Shame, really. Not-So-Sweet Sugar Daddy left one major detail off his list of things I’m not to do. He left off fantasizing about the smoking hot silver fox penthouse dweller in my building. Now that I’ve gotten a good look at him, there’s absolutely zero chance I won’t picture him when I put on the cams my new employer requests.

ChapterSeven

Eco

Greer Saddler is exquisite. She’s all rioting curls that spiral like rich espresso spilling down her back and legs too long for her tiny little stature. I’d sacrifice my left nut to feel those slender thighs wrapped around my waist while I pound her into next week.

The second Greer decided to obey my directions, I was in motion. The moment she stepped into the hallway to catch the elevator to the lobby, I was already inside. It’s as though her signing the contract to perform only for me has unleashed an ownership in me that empowers me to finagle my way as close to her as I can get.

She has no idea the man pulling the strings is the same one panting after her as she strides across the building foyer toward the hired car I’ve arranged. No idea the streams I’ll demand of her will only be going so far as the top floor of the same building where she lays her sweet curls onto the pillow at night.

But I’ll know.

I ignore the nearly nonstop messages and phone calls my brothers have sent all day. There’s nothing pressing in the office right now that can’t be handled by one of them. I’ve got more important things going on at the moment. I never begrudged any of them a second of scatterbrained thinking while they made their moves on their women. Now, I’ll be damned if I feel a lick of remorse for taking this time to secure Greer in my life.

It may be an unconventional relationship and nowhere near as filthy and hands on as I wish I could be, but it’ll have to be enough to sustain the obsession inside my soul to possess her.

My Mercedes S-Class manages to be both ostentatiously luxurious and unobtrusively lowkey at the same time. Greer never notices it following the Lexus I’ve purchased for her. Oh yes, the car, the driver, it’s all for her. She doesn’t realize yet how seriously I take my role as provider, but she will.

I don’t need to follow her to oversee the shopping trip she’s about to go on, but why deny myself the pleasures I’ve now funded and organized? The discreet crew I hired to install cameras in the areas set forth in the contract will be there and gone long before she returns. I’ve no need to waste time supervising their work when there are far more enjoyable tasks I can undertake.

Greer is delivered to a boutique owned by the same family as my personal shopper. I know she’ll be treated with respect and pampered by the proprietors. I already sent along my itemized list of lingerie I expect Greer to leave the establishment with.

My directions were explicit. I want every piece of clothing she’s worn in previous cams to be packed away in the boxes that are, at this moment, being delivered to her home. The first time she’s on camera for me, I want to watch her trying on each and every replacement item provided by me.

If I could, I’d erase even the memories she has of having to perform for other men. Am I a caveman? Probably. It’s only fair. She’s destroyed every recollection of any woman who came before her. Not that there were many.

I was too busy escaping from a lifetime of the shitty stigma of being born the son of a small town sheriff, who used his badge to take things that were never freely given, to find time for romance when I was a young man. Too busy convincing the Navy they made the right choice to bail out my ass when I got caught hacking into systems a seventeen-year-old had no business in. Too busy keeping my ass and the asses of my brothers out of the shit when I was in the SEALs. Too busy avoiding the meaningless fucks offered from women willing to look past the mess of my face to perform an act of pity.

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