Page 104 of Wicked Scorn
prettyboyblackwood has entered the room
On the other side of the screen, I imagine Jeremiah’s eyes locked on the feed, his heart better be pounding with excitement and nervousness because mine sure is. He askedme to give him a private cam show for his birthday since I stopped streaming after he barged in, broke my laptop and commandeered me into his house, room, and life. All of the above. I shake my head at the thought, thinking about how far we’ve come since that night. He wanted to FaceTime instead, but I thought a real cam show where he can only type to me would be more fun. I can tease him without him being able to say anything back to me. I just know that his thoughts are consumed by the desire to see me, to hear my voice, to connect with me in this way. And with each passing second, the power I hold over him in this small way grows stronger.
“Hey there, pretty boy,” I say, flashing a flirtatious smile at the camera. My voice comes out soft-spoken and thoughtful yet laced with a hint of sass. “A little rabbit told me you’re the birthday boy today.”
Baby
Jeremiah’s types, and I think he’s going to be broody because that’s exactly how Jeremiah gets when I’m not with him, even for a few minutes. We’re in the same dang vacation house, with only a wall separating us, but he’s going to act like I flew to outer space without telling him my plans. He surprises me by typing.
You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this.
“Is that so?” I tease, my fingers grazing over the lace trim of my dress. The thought of the effect I have on him sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t help but feel a sense of pride. “Well, I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
You look beautiful
He types. And though I can’t see it, I know his lips must be curved into that smirk that I love.
You should wear that dress more often. But only for me
He adds, and I can’t help but giggle.
“As if everything I do isn’t only for you,” I reply, my laughter bubbling up out of me like champagne. “Hmm,” I say finally, my voice a breathy whisper in the stillness of the room. “Let’s get started.”
Bunny
Jeremiah types my nickname, and I canfeelhow he’s filled with longing right now.
I can’t do this. I’m coming in, unlock the door
I giggle, shaking my head in the negative.
“Tsk, tsk, pretty boy. You asked for a show and that’s what you’re going to get. Even my most loyal viewers don’t get to touch,” I respond, my words dripping with playful mischief. I look over at the open window, because I have something else in store for Jeremiah that he doesn’t know about.
Slowly, I let the straps of my dress fall, enjoying the sensation of fabric slipping from my skin. Every movement is graceful, deliberate, like a dance choreographed just for him. I let my hand fall to the necklace around my neck that holds his Blackwood ring. I know he’ll enjoy seeing the B dangling between my breasts, marking me as his in yet another way.I’m so thankful I practiced this part. The soft rustle of my dress falling to the floor in the dimly lit room is all I can hear except for my own breathing.
It’s a sixth sense, but Jeremiah’s reactions are unmistakable, even though the digital barrier separating us. He’s outside the door, watching me on his phone and swear I can almost hear his breath hitching with every reveal, sensing the anticipation building within him. It’s titillating, knowing that I hold such power over him, able to ignite him with even the simplest of gestures.
“Tell me what you want, pretty boy,” I whisper, my voice low and sultry. “Guide me.”
“I want you to open this goddamn door,” Jeremiah yells, his fist pounding on the large wooden door, and it takes everything in me not to laugh. He’s so unhinged and I love him for it.
“What would be the fun in that?” I reply with a teasing smile. “Don’t you want to see what comes off next?”
I can’t help but imagine his heart racing uncontrollably as he watches me, his breath ragged and desperate. The thought fans the flames of my own desire, and I lose myself in the performance, determined to push him to the edge as I twirl around in my pale green matching bra and cheeky panties with my mask on.
“I’ll break the door down,” Jeremiah growls the words. “It wouldn’t be the first I’ve done it to get to you and won’t be the last either, Oakley. You have no idea how much I want you right now.” He has no idea that I have no intention of taking my bra and panties off. I fully intend on letting him rip them off in his vigor to have what is so rightfully his.
“Mmm I’m pretty sure I do,” I tease, my heart swelling with affection for this man who’s my entire world.
I drink in Jeremiah’s irritation that he can’t get his hands on me right now. I mean he could, but he’s letting me play my little game and I have no doubt he gets just as much enjoyment out of it as I do. It’s a heady dose of praise that sends shivers down my spine. My body hums with newfound confidence and power fueled by his reactions to my every move.
“Tell me,” I say, my voice sultry and commanding, “what do you want me to do next?”
Jeremiah hesitates, and I can almost picture the conflict in his eyes as he battles between desire and restraint. Finally, he types out his response, playing along because he thinks that by adhering to my rules, I’ll do what he wants and unlock the door.
I want to feel your touch, Oakley. I need it.
My heart skips a beat at his admission, touched by the depth of his feelings. We’ve come so far since those innocent days when our connection was forged with secret glances and whispered conversations.
