Page 23 of Taken Online

I didn’t know what I was feeling—I’d never felt it before—but there was a sick sensation in the pit of my stomach. A fury I boiled down to irritation.

Asher looked cute. Blindfolded on the couch, legs criss-crossed. His brown hair was a mess, like he’d rushed over. Mismatched socks. Still in his pajamas. And now, suddenly, he had a boyfriend?

Was this new? Did it happen after I signed off last night? Did he film that show for me, then invite someone over and let them bend him over?

I clenched my notebook shut.

“Yeah, we’re not serious,” Asher muttered, like that was supposed to mean something.

Would his little boyfriend like knowing he sends sexual photos to strangers online? That he fucks himself on camera for men like me, dressed like a schoolboy with a leash tied to his bedframe?

The thought of another man touching him made my chest ache. He didn’t even like being around men. So who the fuck was this guy?

I’ve followed Asher for years. Whenever he’d disappear from the forums, I needed to make sure he was okay. So, yes, I installed a few cameras in his apartment. For the most part, I respected his privacy. But sometimes, I watched.

And what I saw worried me.

He’d go quiet. Stare at the walls. Wrap his arms around himself and eat in bed. The only people he spoke to were through a headset for his job. He never left his bedroom.

In public, he hated being around men. At the grocery store, he’d flirt with the cashier, if they checked him out. If not, Asher would sneer and mutter insults under his breath.

At clubs, he was flirtatious. Teasing. But he never went home with anyone.

Online was where he felt safe. But even there, I could tell it was a mask.

So what changed?

When did he start tolerating men enough to date one? To spend time alone with one?

Because as far as I’m concerned, I’m the only man he’s seen in the last week.

I needed to calm down. If I lost control, I’d blow my cover. And he’d be creeped out.

“What did you and your boyfriend do?” I asked, gravel in my throat. “Did you… break the task?”

He hesitated. “He did. I didn’t.”

What the hell does that mean?

My stomach turned, and I stood abruptly. I walked to the kitchenette and poured myself a glass of whiskey.

I shouldn't be drinking at work, but hearing the love of your life talk about someone else fucking them will do that to you.

Did this stranger fuck his throat? His ass? And just… not let him come?

My grip tightened around the glass. Rage burned hot in my chest.

So Kaleb means nothing to him? I pay him. I praise him. I edge him. And then what? He gets off camera and spreads his legs for someone else?

I downed the whiskey in one gulp.

The cameras. I could use the cameras.

But could I stomach watching it?

Watching him giggle. Smile. Let another man undress him and use him like a toy?

Was that what the schoolboy outfit was for?

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