21: THE CAM GIRL NEXT DOOR (2)

CHAPTER 2: BEGGING FOR HIS COCK

RILEY’S POV

I flee back to my room, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. The image of him is burned onto the back of my eyelids.

The next few days are a special kind of hell. At work, Dominic seems to be everywhere.

He “accidentally” brushes against me in the hallway, his hand lingering on the small of my back.

He leans over my shoulder to “see what I’m working on,” his warm breath fanning my neck, making me shiver.

He’s a jerk, he’s an asshole, and he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever been near.

And online, DomTheBoss69 is more demanding than ever. The denial games get more intense.

He makes me edge myself for an hour straight, my vibrator controlled by his tips, bringing me to the brink again and again before shutting it off.

He makes me describe, in filthy, vivid detail, exactly what I would do to him if he were here.

“I’d get on my knees for you,” I pant, my fingers frantically working my clit as the vibrator hums at a punishing level seven. “I’d open my mouth and let you fuck my face. I’d look up at you with tears in my eyes while you shoved that big, thick cock down my throat.”

DomTheBoss69: And then?

“And then I’d beg you to fuck my pussy. I’d spread my legs wide and beg you to fill me up. I’d tell you how much better your real cock feels than any of these plastic toys.”

DomTheBoss69: You’d be right.

The session ends, as always, with me denied and desperate. I’m a live wire of sexual frustration.

I stumble out of my room, my skin feverish, and nearly collide with Dominic in the dark hallway. He’s just in his boxers, his chest bare. We both freeze.

His eyes rake over me, taking in my flushed skin, my heaving chest, the thin tank top with no bra.

His gaze is dark, hungry, and it’s the same look I imagine in DomTheBoss69’s eyes.

“Rough night?” he asks, his voice a low gravel.

“You have no idea,” I breathe out, my voice trembling.

He takes a step closer, crowding me against the wall. I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“I think I might.” He brings a hand up, hovering near my cheek. “You’re always so… tense after you close your door for the night. What do you do in there, I wonder?”

My breath hitches.

“You tell me,” I whisper, my heart pounding against my ribs.

His smirk is wicked, triumphant. He leans in, his lips brushing my ear, and I shudder violently.

“I think you know.”

And then he walks away, leaving me slumped against the wall, my knees weak, my pussy aching and soaked.

The final night, the night everything breaks, starts like all the others.

I’m on cam, but I’m not wearing anything fancy. Just a simple white t-shirt, naked underneath. I feel raw, exposed. More turned on than I’ve ever been.

Maybe it’s my baffling hunger for Dominic, or maybe its the anticipation for my favorite tipper. Either way, I am hot and devastatingly bothered.

DomTheBoss69is there immediately.

DomTheBoss69: Shirt off.

I don’t play games. I pull the shirt over my head and toss it aside. I’m bare to the waist, my skin glowing in the ring light.

DomTheBoss69: Connect the toy. All of them.

My hands are steady as I plug in the vibrator and place it against my clit, legs thread for his eyes only.

I lube up the large dildo and press it to my entrance. I’m already so wet it slides in with a soft, wet sound.

DomTheBoss69: Now, talk to me. Not to the camera. To me. Tell me what you really want.

I look directly into the camera lens, imagining I can see his dark eyes through it.

My voice is low, stripped of all its performative bravado, filled with nothing but raw, honest need.

“I want you to stop playing games,” I say, slowly fucking myself with the dildo. “I want you to come in here. I want to feel your weight on top of me. I want to taste your skin. I want your hands on my throat while you fuck me. I want you to make me scream your real name.”

A massive tip dings. $500. The vibrator screams to life at its highest setting, level ten.

The intense, violent vibrations are like nothing I’ve ever felt. Pleasure, bone-breaking pleasure, shoots hot up my spine, every nerve alive and inching to a crescendo I’d never felt before.

My body seizes up, my back bowing off the bed. I’m hurtling toward the edge, faster and faster, my vision spotting.

DomTheBoss69: DON’T YOU DARE COME.

The command is a wicked drag back to reality. I sob, my hips bucking uncontrollably, my fingers digging into my thighs as I fight the tidal wave of my orgasm.

It’s agony. It’s ecstasy. I’m right there, balanced on a razor’s edge, shaking, pleading wordlessly.

“Please, Dom,” I sob, my voice raw. “I’ll do anything. Please let me come.”

DomTheBoss69: Anything?

“Anything! I’ll be your good girl, I’ll be your filthy slut, whatever you want!”

DomTheBoss69: Look at your door.

I freeze. My bedroom door, which is always cracked open during streams, is now wide open.

And standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his phone in his hand is Dominic.

His eyes are dark, hungry, and locked directly on my naked, trembling body.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, scrambling to cover myself with a sheet.

He smirks. That same wicked smirk I see in my DMs.

“Hey, DarlingRiley.You’re even more perfect in person.”

The world tilts. DomTheBoss69. Dominic.

How the fuck did I not see that coming?

He is in nothing but his grey sweatpants, which are tented dramatically by his erection.

His chest is slick with sweat, hard defined torso with toned fuck-me abs, his eyes are black with desire.

He walks into my room, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Now, Riley. Come for me.”

The permission is my undoing. My orgasm detonates, a nuclear blast of pleasure that whites out my mind.

I scream, a raw, guttural sound as my body convulses, the vibrator still buzzing violently against my oversensitive clit, the dildo still buried deep inside me.

Wave after wave crashes over me, so intense it’s almost painful, my cries echoing in the small room.

Through the haze, I see him drop his phone and stride toward me. He doesn’t turn off the vibrator. He doesn’t pull out the dildo.

He simply yanks his sweatpants down, freeing his cock—the same one I saw in the shower, thick, magnificent, and gloriously real. He’s not wearing a condom.

He climbs onto the bed, his knees on either side of my hips. He pulls the dildo out of me with a wet, slick sound and tosses it aside.

Then, he replaces it with the head of his own cock, pressing against my soaked, trembling entrance.

“This what you wanted?” he rasps, his voice thick with lust.

“Yes,” I gasp, my body still quaking from the aftershocks. “Please, Dominic. Please.”

He doesn’t need another invitation. He slams into me in one long, deep, devastating thrust.

The feeling is indescribable. After weeks of silicone, the feel of his real, hot, living cock stretching me, filling me completely, is a revelation.

I cry out, my nails digging into his arms. He’s bigger than any toy, and he hits depths I didn’t know I had.

“Fuck, Riley,” he groans, his head falling forward. “You’re even tighter than I imagined. This perfect, insatiable little cunt was made for my dick.”

He pounds from the start, deeper and deeper, harder and harder, his hips slamming into mine, the sound of our skin meeting filthy to its core.

He reaches down and turns the vibrator still pressed against my clit back to a lowerhum.

“You don’t get to stop feeling me,” he commands.

It’s too much. The fullness inside, the relentless vibration outside, the feel of his perfectly hot skin against mine.

I’m already climbing again, my second orgasm building fast, fueled by weeks of pent-up fantasy and denial.

“You talked so much shit online,” he grunts, pounding into me, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises. “All that big talk about what you’d do. Let’s see it. Show me.”

The challenge ignites something in me. I push against his chest, rolling us over so I’m on top, straddling him.

His cock sinks even deeper inside me with the new angle, and we both groan.

I place my hands on his hard chest for leverage and start riding him, grinding my hips in slow, deep circles, making sure my clit grinds against his pelvis with every movement.

“Is this what you wanted to see?” I pant, my voice regaining some of its cam-girl dominance. “You wanted to see me ride this big cock? You wanted to see me take control?”

His hands fly to my breasts, squeezing and pinching my nipples, his eyes glued to where our bodies are joined.

“Fuck yes. Show me.”

I lean forward, bracing my hands on the headboard, and increase my pace, bouncing on him hard and fast. The bed slams against the wall.

“I’m gonna milk this dick until you can’t think straight,” I snarl. “I’m gonna make you forget every other girl you’ve ever been with. You’re gonna be addicted to this pussy.”

“I already am,” he confesses, his composure breaking. His hips buck up to meet my downward strokes. “I’ve been addicted for weeks. Watching you… fucking tormenting you… I’ve been stroking my cock to the thought of this every night.”

His admission sends a fresh jolt of power through me. I feel the familiar coiling tightness in my core again.

“I’m gonna come,” I warn him, my rhythm becoming frantic, desperate. “And you’re gonna come with me. You’re gonna fill me up. I want to feel it.”

That’s all it takes. With a guttural roar, his body tenses, and I feel his cock pulse deep inside me, jet after hot jet of his cum flooding my pussy.

The feeling of him coming, of his possession, triggers my own shattering climax.

I scream, my inner walls clamping down on him in rhythmic, milking pulses, my body seizing as pleasure obliterates every thought.

I collapse on top of him, a sweaty mess. We’re both breathing in ragged, shuddering gasps.

His arms come around me, holding me tight against his chest. The vibrator, still humming softly between us, finally batteries out and dies.

We lie there for a long time, the only sound our slowing breaths. The digital world is silent. The real world has never felt more vivid.

He finally shifts, his softening cock slipping out of me, his cum leaking out onto the sheets. He brushes the damp hair from my forehead.

“So,” he says, his voice a low, satisfied baritone. “Was it worth the wait?”

I look up at him, at the smug, handsome bastard who tortured and pleasured me in equal measure, who saw the wallflower and uncovered the whore, and I know my life will never be the same.

A slow, genuine smile spreads across my lips.

“Ask me again in five minutes,” I whisper. “I’m not nearly done with you yet.”