When he didn’t text me the following day, I told myself not to worry. I barely knew the guy, and even if he spent the night in bed next to me, it didn’t mean we were suddenly best friends. I did my work, washed and exercised Mom, and cleaned the house.
“I have a proposition,” Mom said when I emerged from the basement wearing leggings and an oversized hoodie, my hair in a messy bun on top of my head.
“Okay.” I popped leftovers in the microwave.
“Let’s move movie night to Wednesday.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
“Because you’re a twenty-two-year-old woman. You should go out with your friends on Friday night.”
I shook my head. “You’re my friend.”
“I’m your mother,” she said. “It’s different.”
“I don’t want any other friends.” I didn’t have time for them, anyway. This was my only chance to be lazy this weekend. Tomorrow, I had a ton of appointments and errands to run. Then I’d film for a few hours before editing on Sunday. New videos went live on Monday, and then I had more one-on-ones and live streams.
Who needed friends when I could be making money?
She pursed her lips, refocusing on the television when I came into the living room. I plopped down on the couch and blew on my poor excuse for enchiladas before taking a bite. It was decent, but definitely not gourmet like the box said.
We got three episodes into Mad Men before she fell asleep, and I grabbed my laptop. I had some business stuff to take care of, reconciling my Excel spreadsheets and checking on my income streams from the various sites. Sometime around eleven, my phone buzzed.
Jericho: You up?
No “hey, how are ya?” No “sorry it’s been two days since I texted.” Just… you up?
I thought about leaving him on read. It would serve him right. But I enjoyed his company. And two days was customary, right? As not to appear desperate? So I wrote back.
Alba: Yeah, what’s up?
Jericho: Can I come by?
Fuucckk… I was in leggings and a hoodie. I’d just scarfed down about five gallons of popcorn. My hair was a mess. I was a mess. Shit.
Alba: Sure. When?
There were footsteps on the porch outside, followed by two quick, quiet knocks on the door. I jumped and sprang off the couch.
No… Was he already here?
I ran my hands over my hair, checking the peephole to confirm it was, indeed, Jericho.
Fucking hell.
I’d had no opportunity to prepare myself, but fuck it. It was eleven at night, and he hadn’t given me very much warning. I opened the door and smiled.
“Hey, that was fast,” I said.
“I was in the neighborhood.” He nodded down the street and toward the garage.
“Right.” This late? What a long day.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I took a step back and gestured inside. He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled, brushing past me to step into the living room. I got a whiff of his manly scent again, and it took me back to two days ago when I was under him in my bed. He’d been so warm and hard and strong. I closed the door and cleared my throat, self-conscious in my disarray. Taking a step closer to him, I pushed my glasses up higher and forced a smile on my face.
“What’s up?”
“Um…” Jericho ran a hand over the back of his neck and looked at my mom. “You mind if we talk downstairs?”
Uh-oh. Yikes.
“Okay.” I tried to keep calm, but my heart beat loudly as we walked to my room. This could only be about one thing. Why else would he want to go downstairs with me? Out of sight of my mother?
Okay, be cool. After the night we had, I suspected this could be a possibility. I’d been honest with him. This was the next logical progression. He’d gone home, given it some thought, and decided he wanted to be my partner.
What would I do? What would I say?
Part of me would jump for fucking joy, throw him on my bed, and climb him like a tree. But the rational part of me would turn him down, and that side would win. I liked him too much. I wanted a friendship with him too much. Business would get in the way of that.
We went into my room, closing the door behind us before I turned to face him.
He still had his hands in his pockets and leaned against my desk, crossing one leg over the other. “I’ve been thinking.”
“A terrible idea, really.” I took a deep breath and headed to the bed, sitting down and crossing one leg under my body.
He smiled before saying, “You can make more money on your own.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t need a penis.”
“Go on.” I was intrigued. The fact he had shown up in the middle of the night with this said he’d been thinking about it since he left. He’d been thinking about me since he left.
“You have ten videos with over a million likes. In those ten, you change the camera angle. You play with different lighting. They look more professional.”
“I know,” I said. “They took three hours to film. Another two to edit.”
He nodded. “I said you didn’t need a penis, not that you didn’t need help.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “What are you proposing?”
He took a deep breath and stood, running both hands through his hair and linking his fingers around the back of his neck, his tattooed arms hanging down his massive chest. “I’ll help you film.”
“What?”
“You perform, and I’ll film.”
I couldn’t believe this. My mouth hung open, and my heart damn near skipped out of my chest. “Why?”
Now he was confused. “Why what?”
“Why would you help me?”
“Oh, I’ll insist on a cut,” he said. “I don’t know, ten percent or something. You decide what you think is fair.”
“That still doesn’t explain—”
“I like you, Alba. I can help you, so I will.” He shrugged, and standing there like that, under my recessed lighting, he looked more menacing than he actually was. Like a Greek God. Like any second he might bend me over and break me in half. “It seems like easy money. And I am not going to mind the show.”
“Jericho.” I stood and crossed over to him. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know. But I want to. And if it turns out you were right and you do need a penis, I probably know a guy or two who could help you with that.”
“Two?” I raised an eyebrow, a small smile on my face.
“Whatever you’re into,” he said. “But baby steps, okay? You onboard?”
The impulsive side of me screamed from the depths of my subconscious. Yes, yes, yes. But the practical side was more skeptical about his real motives. He said he wanted to help me, but mostly, people only cared about themselves. He asked for a cut, so I had to assume his motivation was financial. And whatever it was, maybe it was none of my business. The biggest risk was that I broke ties with him and never saw him again.
No, the biggest risk is you fall in love with him and never want him to leave.
I ignored that because I didn’t intend to hang around here much longer, certainly not long enough to fall in love with him. In the meantime, I couldn’t deny I needed the help, and he’d made more than a generous offer.
“I accept.” I held out my hand for him to shake.
He did, flashing me a charming smile. “I have some shit to do for the garage tomorrow. I should be done by the time your mom goes to sleep. Can I come over then?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“Okay.” Straightening, he turned to leave but paused at the door to return to me. He ran a pinky down one side of my face and brushed a few stray hairs back behind my ear. “One more thing.”
My pulse kicked up in my throat, and I swallowed, my mouth dry and scratchy. “Yeah?”
“Those ten videos have the most views because you made yourself come. You’re faking it in the others.”
Had I been that obvious?
“Do us both a favor and don’t touch yourself tonight. Don’t touch yourself tomorrow. Save it for me, okay? Can you do that?”
A hot lance sizzled through me, right to my clit. I nodded and muttered a strained, “Yes.”
“Good girl.” He gave me a kiss on the forehead. “Get some sleep. It’s late, and we’ve got a long night tomorrow.”
He cupped my cheek and left me standing there, panties soaked, turned on by his command, and bewildered by my immediate agreement to it.
* * *
Butterflies flitted around my stomach for the rest of the night. I tried to sleep, but I tossed and turned, imagining what would happen the next day.
Sure, I’d had lots of boyfriends in my short twenty-two years. I’d fucked around, and my number was much higher than it probably should have been for my age. The national average was seven partners in the course of a lifetime, but I’d already well surpassed that before Mom got sick. By now, there wasn’t much I hadn’t done or much that hadn’t been done to me.
If I’d been raised by any other person, I might have been ashamed of that. But my mother believed in a sex-positive environment and taught me virginity was a social construct. What I did paid for her well-being, so I had long since let go of any shame society wanted to put at my feet for that.
I cleaned and cooked, preparing for the week ahead. After Mom fell asleep, I dolled myself up in Aurora’s lingerie. I put in her contacts and did her makeup, creating the smoked-up sex kitten everyone loved. I did her hair, pulling it back so it was half up in pigtails on the back of my head. By the time Jericho texted he was here, I had completely assumed Aurora’s disguise.
He let himself in and came downstairs, pausing at the door to rake his sky-blue eyes over me from head to toe. I’d put on a robe, but I wore very little underneath.
“Hey.” I nervously twisted my fingers together.
“Hey.” He closed the door behind him and cleared his throat. Fuck, he looked as amazing as ever. Jeans and a T-shirt and the cut, all those tattoos on his arms, and his dark hair brushed back away from his face.
“How was your day at the garage?”
He waved off my question. “Fine. Typical stuff.”
I nodded, and silence fell between us.
This is awkward.
“Before we begin,” I started, “we should talk about rules. Boundaries.”
“Okay.”
“Like I said, no one else knows about this. Not my mom. Not my friends. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“I’m not telling anyone.”
“My safe word is crimson,” I said. “If I feel uncomfortable at any time, I’ll say it. You stop what you’re doing. You leave the room until I’m ready to talk about it. Is that cool?”
“Sure,” he said with a smile. “Totally cool.”
I loved that sexy smirk. It lit up his whole face.
“I’ll pay you fifteen percent,” I said. “If you help me make more money, we’ll talk about twenty or thirty.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “Entirely too generous, sunshine.”
I smiled at the nickname and continued. “I’ve never done this before. You know, performed while someone else is filming me.”
“Well, I’ve never filmed anyone masturbating before, so we’re both gonna pop our cherries tonight.”
Another awkward pause.
“Is there anything you want to add?” I asked. “Any boundaries you want to keep?”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This is professional. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. No hard feelings.”
“Agreed.” I waited to see if he would add anything else, and when he didn’t, I touched the belt on my robe and hesitated. “So… should we do this or…”
He narrowed his eyes, now more serious. “That depends. Did you do what I asked?”
“Of course,” I said. “Though it was a bit high-handed of you to assume I would.”
“Then why did you?”
I tipped my chin higher and let my robe fall to the ground as I said, “Because it turned me on.”
His smile widened, clearly pleased with himself, before taking a deep breath and trailing his eyes over me again. I’d worn a sexy scarlet bra with a matching thong. The garter belt at my waist connected to my thigh-high tights. I looked amazing.
He cleared his throat and glanced away, going to the camera on the tripod.
“Do you know your way around that thing?” I climbed on the bed and crawled to the center, going up on my knees when I was there.
“Yeah.” He bent over it, taking it off the stand and fiddling around with the buttons. “Took some AV classes at community college. I have one like it.”
I paused, raising an eyebrow. “You took classes at community college?”
“Not just a dumb gearhead after all,” he whispered with a small laugh.
“I never thought you were just a dumb gearhead.”
“No?” He came closer and held the camera up between us, the red light indicating he’d started recording. “Tell me. What did you think when you first met me?”
“That you weren’t someone to fuck with.”
“Well, you were right about that. What else?”
“That I liked your tattoos.”
“Hmm,” he said. “What did you like about them?”
“What is this? Dateline?” I ran my hands up my thighs, my fingers poised on the snaps connected to my tights. “I’m paying you to film me. This is my show, remember?”
He licked his lips and grinned. “Well, go on then. Give me a show.”
Not them. Not the world.
Give him a show.
I snapped my gaze to his, and the atmosphere shifted. What had once been friendly, albeit a little awkward, was now charged with a potent tension that stretched between the two of us. When I’d done this before, it had just been me, and though I recorded myself, it felt the same as any other time I’d masturbated.
With him here? Everything seemed different. My fingers burned hotter as I traced them up my legs to my waist, cupping my boobs before going to my neck. I tilted my head to the side so my hair fell on my chest, and I sat back on my haunches, spreading my legs so Jericho could get a good shot in between them. I moved one hand under my underwear, fingering my clit.
I said the stuff I normally did. “I’ve been so horny all day. I couldn’t wait to get home and finger my pussy for you.”
He looked from the camera screen to me and back again, drawing my attention. I used to pretend like the camera was some mystery man, but now I had someone to play with, someone to react to. We may end up putting this on the internet, but this performance had started being for him when he commanded me not to touch myself last night.
Like it or not, he was in this now.
“You told me to wait.” I unhooked the snaps on my thigh highs, refusing to break eye contact. “You told me to save it up for you.” His mouth hung open, and the growing bulge in his jeans showed me how much he enjoyed this. So did I.
My skin buzzed with electricity and my veins flooded with adrenaline and dopamine, all the feel-good chemicals. I leaned back and slid my panties down, biting my bottom lip as I flung them at him. He caught them with his free hand and grinned, so I kept going.
“How many times did you jack off thinking about me?” I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head, curling my tongue around my canine as I teased him, knowing he was trying to be quiet because this was my show. And theoretically, I was saying these filthy, naughty things to the viewer. I put my hand between my legs and arched my back, balancing my legs on the balls of my feet, spread open and wide for him.
He zeroed in on me rubbing at my clit, and I moaned, making him grab at his cock.
“How bad do you want this?” I asked. “How hard do I make you?”
Desire soaked my brain, making me mutter stuff I hadn’t planned on saying. When I did a scene, I viewed it more as playing a role. I put on Aurora’s skin, thought of a stereotype, and bought into it. But having him here? It bordered on too close to being real. The lines between pretend and reality had blurred, and I wasn’t sure I could reel it back in.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
I reached under my pillow, where I’d stashed the vibrators I wanted to use—a clit suction toy and a big, buzzing dildo. I called this one Fat Jack because it was huge and girthy and the fans like to see me get wet and take it all the way inside. It had to have been what… twelve? Thirteen inches?
Either way, I was going to get myself so ready I’d have no problem squatting on it before the end, bringing myself to a big climax.
I turned on the clit suction toy and brought it to my sensitive nub, hissing in a breath as soon as it touched. I was already soaked. Having Jericho in the room made things a million percent more erotic.
This is a performance, my logical brain screamed from the depths of my subconscious. Not sex. Get your mind in the game.
Refocusing on the job, I pulled my tits out of my bra and pinched a nipple, rolling my hips into the toy. I moaned and squirmed to get my legs open wider.
“Is this what you wanted to see?” I said. “Is this why you wanted me to wait for you? To save it for you? Is this the fantasy you craved?”
He couldn’t help it now. Jericho cleared his throat and gripped his cock harder, and that made me burn so fucking hot. My blood was on fire. I could feel it building. I didn’t need the dildo.
I stuck two fingers inside of me just as I crested. Euphoria surged through my molecules, launching me sky high and freezing time in the same glorious moment. Fireworks. Absolute fireworks. I came with the thunderous applause of every cell in my body.
And when reality set in again, I collapsed on the bed, panting and smiling and laughing softly.
Wow. What a ride.
I turned to look at Jericho, only to find him gaping like he’d never seen a girl before. I smiled and sat up, and he put the camera down on the tripod before shoving his hands into his back pockets.
“I think we got it,” he said, his voice hoarse and crackly. He nodded and took a few steps back toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I furrowed my eyebrows. “If we can get them done that fast, we should do at least two or three. We can make more money.”
He swallowed and took a deep breath. “Sure. Yeah. Uh… okay.”
“What’s wrong?”
He chuckled softly to himself and shook his head. “Watching you… filming you… it’s making me hard as a fucking rock. I’m about to come in my pants like a teenager.”
“Yeah?” I raised an eyebrow and leaned back, balancing my weight on one hand behind me. “Then get over here and come on my tits like a man.”