Page 2 of Drive Me Crazy
“Mhmmm.” Her voice was laced with honey and mistrust. “Meet me at my house tonight at eight.” She was walking away before I could come up with a reason to say no.
“Don’t be late,” she sing-songed, not looking back.
Iran myhand absentmindedly through my still wet hair, already second-guessing my decision to show up. I could do this. Whatever Naomi had in mind, I could reason with her. I had to. My hand lifted to knock on the front door, but it swung open before my knuckles made contact.
I sucked in a breath, and my cock felt heavy as I got my first glimpse of Princess Peach in the flesh. Fucking hell. A tiny scrap of plaid material made her barely decent on the bottom half with her long legs on full display. A plain, white t-shirt had been tied up below her breasts and a glimpse of her pink areolas told me all I needed to know about what was underneath — nothing.
Every schoolgirl fantasy I’d ever had was obliterated. They didn’t compare.
“You’re late. Come in,” she said in a breathy voice. The door flung open and she disappeared down the hall.
“Holy fuck,” I muttered and took a steadying breath. I had two choices — turn around and go home or follow the lingerie-clad vixen to what was sure to be the end of me.
Against my better judgment, I shut the door behind me and followed the trail of light perfume down the hall.
CHAPTER TWO
Naomi
Lighting — check.
Logged into the Wet & Wyld stream — check.
Wardrobe — ridiculous, but check.
I’d gone through my mental checklist a million times. Make that a million and one. Glancing in the mirror, I barely recognize the painted face that stared back at me. It itched and suffocated my skin, but it provided an extra layer of confidence that I was going to need for tonight. I’d never done a live stream with someone watching in the same room. How incredible that a thin layer of glass and plastic provides a cloak of anonymity while I’m practically naked in front of millions of viewers. Grady has always made me feel naked and vulnerable, but tonight I needed to be at my best.
He stood in the doorway with a look of disgust on his face. Or was it torture? I couldn’t allow myself to get caught up in his thoughts of me. I didn’t need him to see me as the innocent tagalong younger sister of his dead best friend; I needed him to see me as a professional. A woman. Someone who provides a safe and fun service to people that, for whatever their reason, are online looking for a good time.
“Stand behind the computer.” I nodded with my head across the room to where I’d set my laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch. Behind me, a blank wall was painted red and in each corner, out of the view of the camera, were two large lights. This six-by-six space in my spare bedroom was my stage. I performed five nights a week. To call it anything less than a performance was an insult to the hours of prep that went into each night. And if anyone thought parading around in skimpy lingerie each night and fondling yourself for an audience was easy, well — that person had obviously never videotaped him or herself masturbating.
Grady hadn’t moved.
“I’m serious. You were late, and I need to go live now. Get behind the camera or you could take your clothes off and join me,” I teased and tilted my chin down so I could look up at him with big, puppy-dog eyes.
His eyes widened at the implication, and I bit back a smile that I’d been able to shock him. He said nothing as he moved across the room and sat down. He looked more uncomfortable than I’d ever seen him. Had I ever seen him look uncomfortable? Grady wasn’t short on confidence. Probably because he wasn’t short on looks. And if the rumors were true, he wasn’t short anywhere. He folded his six-four frame on the sofa as if he was ready to bounce at a moment’s notice.
“What are you trying to pull, Naomi?” He kept his eyes off me.
“Oh, relax. You’ve seen me in swimsuits — this is basically the same.” I didn’t mention he’d seen me in last night’s dominatrix getup, which had been far more revealing than the schoolgirl outfit I wore tonight.
“I don’t want any part of this. I made a promise.”
Stilling as I leaned over to press the button which would broadcast me worldwide, I paused. “I told you I’d make a deal. You sit there for the next few nights and watch me work, and if at the end of the week you still don’t approve then I’ll quit. I’ll find some bullshit waitressing job making shit money to line someone else’s pockets. That is what you want, right?”
“I told him I’d take care of you. Hell, there is enough money in the trust your parents and Nathan left to keep you−”
I cut him off. “No. I don’t want that money. I’ve told you a hundred times, I won’t touch it as long as I can earn my own way.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.
I stood straight and spoke softer. “Look, I need you to understand that what I’m doing is more than taking my clothes off for money. It’s more than a job to me. I can provide for myself. Take care of myself,” I said the last phrase slowly, enunciating each syllable.
He looked like he was going to interrupt, but I held up my hands, palms facing him. “There’s no one left. It’s just me now, and I need to know that I can do this on my own. Nathan was the best brother I could have asked for, but when our parents died, he took over as my protector and provider. I never wanted for anything, but I never had to work for anything either. I need this,” I whispered
His face softened, but I didn’t give him time to answer. I clicked the Go Live button and smiled into the camera.
“Hi everyone, Princess Peach is finally here. Sorry I’m a little late, but I have a fun night planned,” I said, pulling the length of each pigtail and twirling the ends around my fingers. “We have all the usual players.” I held my hands up to the top of a rolling shelf that held all my toys in my best Vanna White. “And just in case anyone gets out of line, I’ve brought this,” I said in a playful voice as I lifted the yardstick up with one hand and swatted it down into the palm of the other.
