Page 49 of Watched

I whimper. Fucking hell! I just whimpered!

No one has ever talked to me like this and knowing this video was made specifically for me is driving me closer to the edge.

“Are you ready, baby?” he groans.

My head swims in an erotic pool of sloshes and moans. His grip tightens, and I follow.

“Five,” he counts. “Four. Three.”

Shit. He’s actually going to make me come.

“Two. One,” he growls.

I watch his ribbons of cum shoot out to cover the mirror. I practically fuck my hand as my stomach tightens, and I convulse, spilling out to cover my hand and torso.

“Don’t stop, Rome,” he orders in a gruff tone, continuing to work himself.

My jaw drops, silent moans cracking, unable to pass my constricted throat as my vision blurs while I continue coming as ordered.

I pant, beads of sweat trickling down my hair line. The lingering sparks are still flying, and I swear to God, I’m twitching.

The video flips to reveal that grinning face. “If you came before I told you to, I’m going to be pissed,” he growls playfully, and I hate that it just made me smile.

Sighing, I take a photo of my still semi-hard dick and the mess he inflicted on me and attach it to the text.

Me: Fuck you.

“I’m an artist,” Kilah says proudly, lifting the lid off the large container to reveal the charcuterie board she made.

Plucking out a piece of cheese, I shove it into my mouth. She made sure to add a lot of fruit and vegetables for Indie to snack on too. To my surprise, Indie takes a piece of salami, secures a piece of cheese in it, and pops it in her mouth.

I watch people pass in the park, enjoying the sun as we sit beside the river. We’re still rugged up because of the permanent chill in the air this time of year, and it feels juvenile to be having a picnic, but I feel a weight has lifted from my shoulders today. I’m trying to sort through the mountain of things still there to decipher exactly what it is, but, for the first time in a long time, I feel my smile.

“I um…I have a question, Rome,” Kilah whispers, like she’s ashamed to ask.

“Mmm.”

She pushes her sunglasses higher on her nose and bows her head. “Can I live with you?”

“Things aren’t good at home?”

She tucks the loose strands of her messy bun behind her ears. “I hate it there. Ever since you moved out two years ago, I’m the one Mum and Dad yell at for no reason.”

Kilah’s always been good, but I know she would’ve told them she was staying at a friend’s house the night she left to go drink and party. Indie can escape by staying on campus. I have as little contact with our parents as possible. Kilah has nowhere to go.

“I can’t keep you at my house per se.” I dip my chin, looking over my sunglasses. “That would be kidnapping.” Her shoulders slump. “But you’re old enough to decide where you want to live. My door is always open to you, K.” I nudge Indie’s shoulder. “You too, P.”

“So, we can stay again tonight?” Kilah lifts her head, hopeful.

I take my phone from my pocket and stand. “I’ll call them and let them know. I do have training tomorrow afternoon, though.”

They both give the same we’re old enough to stay home alone look. I ruffle their hair and they grumble, swatting at my hands.

As I pull up Mum’s number and lean against a tree a few meters away, a chill prickles my neck. I look over my shoulder, scanning the large park. A few parents play with their kids, others simply walking past, nothing unusual. So why do I get the feeling I’m being stared at directly? Not in the sense I’m being recognised for who I am, but…watched.

Putting it down to the ever-present state of paranoia Rain has driven me into, I dial the number, putting it to my ear.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Mum greets.