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I was dying to see more, but I wasn’t going to push it. Not yet.
“Been thinking of this all fucking day,” I admitted into the silence on her end of the video as my cock twitched to life.
I didn’t reach inside to free it, though.
I just let her watch it harden beneath my light blue sleep pants, the precum wetting the material like I knew her panties were getting wet right then too, judging by the way her thighs pressed more tightly together as she watched.
“Let me see your panties, baby,” I murmured, my chest feeling tight thanks to my hammering heart, my quick, shallow breaths.
There was a pause. Long enough for me to wonder if she wasn’t going to give me even that.
But then her hand was moving into view.
Her fingers weren’t like her toes. The nails were short and unpainted, looking like she maybe even chewed on them when she was anxious.
I liked that small glimpse of the real her. Not the show she put on for her content. Just her. Short, unpainted nails and all.
She pulled up the edge of the tee, exposing panties that were almost the same color as my damn sleep pants.
When she shifted her position slightly, I could see that I was right about her being as wet as I hoped.
“Fuck, baby,” I groaned, reaching down to rub my palm over the head of my cock. “Slip your hand under for me.”
I watched as her hand slid across her leg, then between her thighs, starting to slip into the material.
“Are you going—“ I started.
Only to be cut off by a sound that had my blood running fucking cold.
Pop pop pop.
I knew gunshots when I heard them.
And they sounded really fucking close.
“Get down,” I commanded as Siana’s breath sucked in. “Siana, get down,” I snapped when she didn’t seem to move.
Then there was anotherpop pop pop.
The tablet fell onto the bed, the camera turning black as it met the bedding.
Then… nothing.
Fuck.
“Fuck,” I hissed, tossing my phone, then reaching for my other one as I climbed out of bed.
I scrolled my contacts, finding Sion’s number as I went to my closet to yank off my sleep pants and pull on jeans, then a tee, as the phone rang.
I went deeper into my closet, grabbing a locked box where I stored one of my guns.
“Alaric, wasn’t expecting to hear—“ Sion started.
“I need Siana’s address,” I said, clicking a fresh magazine into my gun, then rushing out of my bedroom.
“Siana? The feet creator?” he asked.
“Sion, now.”
