Page 29 of Cyber Revenge

He grabs my hair, yanks me upright until my back is pressed to his chest, cock still deep inside me.

“You’re mine,” he growls in my ear. “You know that, right?”

I don’t answer.

I’m too busy chasing my orgasm, grinding against him, hand slipping between my legs to circle my clit to get myself off beforehe comes. I moan louder, messier, until I come with a scream that echoes through the room.

He isn’t far behind, slamming into me one final time before spilling inside me with a grunt, breathing heavy against my neck.

We collapse together. Tangled. Sweaty. Quiet.

Later, when he falls asleep wrapped around me, I roll over and stare at my phone.

Trip’s name is still muted.

My message still unread.

Still there.

I hover my thumb over his name.

Then shut the screen off.

But not before opening TikTok and scrolling down until I find his most recent video.

It’s short.

His gloved hand is gripping a belt. The creak of leather. The sound of a chair scraping across the floor.

Caption:

“Let him put you to sleep. I’ll be the one you dream about.”

I bite my lip.

And don’t sleep at all.

SIXTEEN

LYDIA

Two months in, Patrick has become part of my routine.

He knows how I take my coffee, which vape flavor calms me down when I’m overstimulated, and when to stay silent during ranked matches.

Hell, my daughter even meets him. I don’t let her meet any of the guys I’m with for at least a year. But this feels right.

He’s charming, composed, and so fucking pretty in photos. He smiles into my camera like he belongs there when he lets me post him. My followers think we’re perfect,streaming couple goals,gamer girl, and her hot private security boyfriend.

But perfection is a knife with a pearl handle.

The sharper it gets, the easier it is to miss when you’re bleeding.

The event is my first fan meet-up since going semi-viral. I haven’t done anything in-person since before the pandemic, but one of my sponsors put together a pop-up gaming event, and they begged me to show.

The crowd is buzzing, with neon lights, music, and folding tables stacked with stickers and posters. Girls with their eyeliner sharp enough to kill, guys in tactical hoodies trying not to stare too hard at my tits.

I wear what I always wear when I want to feel powerful. A cropped black tee with my username in rhinestones across the chest, high-waisted cargo pants, boots, and my signature red-and-blonde hair styled into effortless chaos. My nails are sharp. My makeup is fire. I look untouchable.

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