Page 15 of Cyber Revenge

NINE

TRIP

My phone buzzes while I’m closing the shop. One unread Snap fromlydie.live.

The moment I see the preview, just the edge of her thigh, her hand between her legs, I know.

I lock the front door behind me, drop the keys on the counter, and turn off the lights. Don’t even make it to the back room before opening the video.

She’s in front of her mirror, bare legs spread over a towel, skin flushed, nipples hard through a mesh bra. A toy glistens between her thighs as she fucks herself slow, deep, moaning, loud, filthy,real.

“The way you’d take me. How you’d pin me down… choke me a little. Tell me I’m yours.”

My breath catches in my throat.

She gasps my name. My fucking name.

“Trip!”

I sink into the tattoo chair without thinking, phone in one hand, the other already slipping under the waistband of my jeans. I don’t even unzip, I shove them down enough to free my cock, already hard, already leaking.

I grip myself tightly and start stroking. Slow. Deliberate. My eyes lock on her, the way her legs tremble, the sound of the toy wet and loud between her thighs, the desperation in her voice when she whispers that she wants me.

My strokes match the rhythm of the video. Her hips. Her cries. My hand is slicked with pre-cum as I imagine dragging her into this very chair, binding her wrists behind her back, and sliding inside her until she screams for me the same way.

“Fuck, Lydia…”

I watch the way she arches her back as she comes, her pussy soaking the toy, slick dripping down onto the towel beneath her. My fist moves faster, tighter, my entire body tensing as I picture what that toy must taste like right now, covered in her juices.

I want her straddling my lap, panting into my ear. I want her begging me not to stop. I want to own every sound, every orgasm, every inch of her body until she forgets what it feels like to be untouched.

I come with a low, guttural growl, hot ropes of cum spilling across my stomach, coating my hand as my head drops back against the leather chair. The aftershocks make my abs twitch, breath sharp and ragged.

I replay the video three more times before finally closing the app.

And that’s when I see it.

She’d sent it tome.

And toPatrick.

What….

It’s subtle at first.

Patrick’s sudden shift.

The next day, he posts a picture of himself and a massive bouquet of roses on his story. The caption says nothing, just a black heart.

Lydia posts a photo of the same roses an hour later.

I stare at the screen, blood cold.

I know what he’s doing. I’ve seen it before. The charming setup. The slow burn. The pressure disguised as affection.

It isn’t just about her anymore.

It’s aboutme.

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