XXX-PLICIT: THE BAD GIRL'S HANDBOOK (Book 3 )

Amy

My fingers were already buried between my legs when the tips started raining in.

The room was pitch black except for the glow of the laptop screen. My shorts were on the floor.

A black eye mask covered the upper half of my face, the one rule I never broke. No matter how much money they tipped, nobody got to see my real face.

Truth was, while everyone else downstairs was winding down, pretending to be a normal, happy household when they were far from being one, I was locking this door with a breath of pure relief because this stupid, dirty little stream was the only place in the entire world where I wasn’t suffocating.

It was my escape, my secret joy, the one thing that kept me breathing when reality felt like it was crushing my ribs.

“Ah… fuck… yesss…”

I was soaking, hips rolling against my own hand, chasing the friction while the chat lit up with green dollar signs.

••Spread your pussy lips, bad girl.••

••Show us your beautiful pinkness.••

••Harass that clit, Amy. Do it now.••

They commanded like they owned me. In a way, they did. As long as they kept paying.

MONEY.

Don’t ask me why I needed it so badly. You wouldn’t understand unless you lived in a family like mine, where every dollar felt like an oxygen molecule and my sanity depended on it.

I’m clocking 20 very soon and I needed to make money so I could leave this godforsaken home.

“Ohhh, yesss… ahhh… can you hear that, guys?” I panted, dragging my middle finger in slow, wet circles over my clit. The squelching sound filled the quiet room, loud and pleasant.

“…The wet sound my pussy makes for you all?”

Bing. Bing.

••$500 from Leo•• My top tipper. The main reason this shit still worked.

••Leo: I’m already stroking myself to you, Amy. Don’t leave me hanging. Make me cum.••

Fuck Leo.

“Ohhh my damn… Leo… five minutes,” I breathed. “Cum with me in five minutes.”

My hand slid deeper, parting my folds, pushing two fingers inside while my thumb kept working my clit. Now, fast and needy. The heat inside me was spiraling out of control, making my toes curl against the mattress.

“See what you make me do, guys… ohhh yes… mmmnn, mmmnn, yesss… ohhh fuck, yesss…”

Cash kept raining. The chat was a mess of demands and praise. And I could swear on my father’s grave that half of them had their dicks in their hands, jerking off to me, losing their minds over every breath I took. The thought of that sent another violent jolt of pleasure straight down my spine.

“Ohhh, yessss… fuck, yesss… Leo… are you watching? See how wet you made me?”

I spread myself wider, pushing my pussy closer to the camera. I knew they could see me pulsing, with sweat beading on my forehead and my hips lifting off the mattress in frantic, hungry arcs.

“Tell me you’re watching how much of a good girl I’m being for you… Yes, yes, yes… mmmnn… Jerk that big dick off. Amy wants to see Daddy’s cum on her face.”

The chat exploded.

••Make it squirt!••

••She’s getting close!••

••Fuck, I’m about to cum!••

Tips chimed back-to-back. The heat in my stomach coiled tighter, pressing right behind my navel, ready to blow. My fingers moved faster, the wet sounds loud in the dark, my hips bucking hard against the empty air.

“I’m right there, guys… ohhh yes, yesss… I’m so close, you guys… I’m so fucking—”

Bang!

The door crashed open, slamming hard against the wall.

“Holy fuck!” The curse tore out of my throat. My hand flew out from between my legs. I scrambled backward, yanking the heavy comforter up to my chin in pure panic.

The laptop was still propped against the pillows. The livestream was still rolling, broadcasting every second of my terror to thousands of strangers.

My eye mask stayed firmly in place. Even then, I didn’t dare pull it off.

My eyes darted to the door, and there, standing in the doorway, was—

My mother’s husband.

DAMIEN FALCONE.

A 37-year-old man who is supposed to be my stepfather.

A man I hated with my soul and body.

“What the fuck?!” I screamed, my voice cracking rawly. “Are you out of your mind?! Are you completely stupid, Damien?!” I snapped.

Even though I was shaking from head to toe, my face was burning hot with shame and humiliation.

“You’re a grown-ass man, for God’s sake! How many times do I have to say it? Knock on the fucking door!” I snapped.

“You don’t just barge in like a wild animal! Knock. On. The. Fucking. Door, Mr. Falcone!”

But despite all my shouts and nervous ranting, Damien stood still, his hand gripping the brass doorknob. His dark eyes were cold and filled with a quiet, sickening disgust as they swept over my half-naked, trembling body and then drifted slowly from me to the laptop.

“What is this, Amy?” he whispered, his voice dry like crackers. “What are you doing in front of a camera?”