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It allowed me to toggle over from my profile to his, glancing around and realizing he hadn’t updated things in a few days, despite the subscribers begging for more.
Interesting.
No uploading, but he’d been on to contact me.
I tried to convince myself that this was because he was likely messaging his subscribers for personal access. Because it was dangerous of me to think—hope—otherwise.
It was too easy for me to get attached when I was clearly feeling lonely already.
I was just watching a short video of him unbuttoning a shirt, exposing little bits of skin before he removed it completely, showing off those abs I’d seen in our private video chats.
It was only seconds, really, before my gaze was sliding lower, over his pelvis, following those deep lines of his Adonis belt to where it disappeared into the waistband of his pants.
My mind flashed with images of his cock pressed against his pants, of his hand moving inside to free it.
I was already aching before the chat request even popped up on my screen.
The relief that rushed through me was instantaneous. Because a part of me was worried I’d, you know, slighted him by ending the call like I had.
Luckily, his skin was made of thicker stuff than my own. I would be in a deep hole of insecurity if he’d done that to me.
As soon as the video feed came in, I felt a small smile tugging at my lips as I noticed his choice of sleep pants and my choice of panties were almost an identical match.
No, I was not someone who saw “fate” or anything like that in small coincidences, but still, it was interesting.
It wasn’t long, though, before all there was in my mind were images of him in bed with him. His hand moving across my thigh, sliding into my panties. Still saying those sexy things, but I would get to hear it in my ear, got to feel his breath on my skin, his weight on my body.
My body was relaxing into the private moment, when I first heard it.
Pop pop pop.
There was a moment of stunned confusion, despite the sound being loud and close. Way too close to be a car backfiring.
It popped too many times for that anyway.
It was his voice that seemed to snap me out of it.
“Get down,” he called through my tablet. Gone was that deep, sexy voice he used when talking to me. This was firm and commanding. “Siana, get down,” he snapped.
There was just a second that had my heart leaping at hearing my name on his lips.
But then it sank in.
Get down?
Because those weregunshots.
Very, very close gunshots.
Before I could move, though, there it was again.
Pop pop pop.
I flew off of my bed, the tablet falling to the mattress as I got down on my belly, then started to slither across the floor, beelining for my bedroom door, reaching up only to open it.
“Frida!” I called, my voice a whisper. “Frida!” I yelled again, hearing her whining.
My mind flashed with visions of her in a pool of blood, or her sweet body riddled with bullets.
