Page 6 of Grave Obsession

It’s absurd…falling for the masked man in my laptop.

He has to like me, too. There are a thousand cam girls out there he could be getting off to. Why else would he keep booking me night after night?

And it’s not like he only books me to get off.

“This is the fourth time this week, Grave,” I teasingly draw out each of my words and arch a suggestive brow. “I’m starting to think you might be alittleobsessed with me.”

While I can’t see his mouth, his eyes brighten and show signs of the growing smile beneath his mask. With a deepchuckle, he leans toward the camera. “I am definitely not alittleobsessed with you.”

The deepness of his tone causes his words to vibrate off his lips. We talked for hours last night, and I intended to do the same tonight. But his ability to cause my pussy to flutter, using nothing but his words, quickly changes my mind. Tonight, I need his voice and moans in my ear when I pretend the hands roaming over my body belong to him.

“What are we doing tonight?” I stare at his piercing eyes through the screen as my fingers flirtatiously linger over neatly arranged toys beside me—an air vibe, a gag, a wand, and the thick dildo I’ve repeatedly imagined is him. “I grabbed all of your favorites.”

“Is that so?” He arches an inquisitive brow as he eyes over the colorful toys on the bed. “Those might be your favorites, cinnamon, but they definitely aren’t mine.”

“You lie,” I exclaim as I lift the large silicone dildo from the bed. Sliding my hand from balls to tip, I tease, “I’ve heard you get off watching me fuck myself with this.”

Twice this week, actually.

We might be on video together now, but Grave always turns his video off before pleasuring himself. I’ve never actually seen him come.I’ve never seenhim.He watches me come—eagerly following his commands—but I watch a black screen as I listen to him. The sounds that come through my speakers between his deliciously dirty words are feral. As curious as I am to see him finally, I don’t needto actually see cum erupt from his cock to know how hard he comes watching me.

Because I know how fucking hard I come from listening to him.

“That might be true, but you’re still wrong.” He holds fast to his claim.

“Fine,” I huff and overtly roll my eyes. “Which toy is your favorite, and I’ll get it?”

We sit in silence for a moment, his eyes raking over every inch of my body as I assume he’s thinking back through our previous sessions together to give me an answer.

When he doesn’t reply, I break the silence. “Well?”

“You, cinnamon. You are my favorite toy,” he answers matter-of-factly, and I can feel my cheeks warm. “The toys you use to please yourself make no difference to me. I get off watching you come. Listening to your moans and screams. Fantasizing that you’re doing it with that tight cunt of yours wrapped around my cock.”

Crimson flares up my neck, flushing over my face, and I gulp as his words travel like electricity straight to my core. He ignites a need in me that burns like a fucking wildfire. A fire I only want him to throw gasoline on.

“Now, tell me the most depraved place you’ve ever thought about getting fucked.” He pauses to carefully pull his shirt over his head, ensuring not to disturb the mask covering his face.

He’s fucking perfection…every inch of him… perfection.

My eyes linger over his body as I lift my hand to physically verify that my chin isn’t actually sitting in my lap. The intricate ink covering his hands and arms also covers every inch of his torso. I follow the lines of the cracked skull and fire spread over his firm pecs and down the well-defined contours of his abs, not stopping until I reach the well-trimmed tuft of jet-black hair at the bottom of my screen.

“I’m waiting, cinnamon,” he insists, “Tell me, so I know exactly how to play with my dirty little toy.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

GRAVE

Kayce fidgets nervously as her full cheeks grow a deeper shade of red. It might embarrass her a little to be called my dirty little toy, but I know damn well that the flush covering her face isn’t the only effect my words have on her. The more I degrade her, the wetter she fucking gets for me.

“Which part embarrasses you, cinnamon,” I taunt. “Being called my dirty little toy or how fucked-up your answer to my question is?”

“Y…yes,” she stammers with her voice just above a whisper. “I mean, both.”

“We both know you’realwaysa dirty whore for me and that you like the idea of being my little fuck toy.” I lean back in my chair and undo the button of my jeans as I continue, “So, how fucking depraved is your answer to myquestion?”

“Very,” she stalls, and I truly have never been more intrigued to learn about a part of her. The more I learn, the more I wonder how she manages to be so outgoing and keep this side of her so well hidden.

“Tell me,” I continue to pry.

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