Pretty Dirty (Dirty Bad Things Book 2)(2)

I liked it so much, in fact, that I never did click out of the window. I stayed, and I watched, and the more I watched, the harder my cock got, and the deeper into pure obsession I fell.

Her profile listed her name as “Alice Liddell,” and I wondered how many of the scumbags on this site understood that it was an Alice In Wonderland reference, not her real name. It said she was twenty-one, with her location as “planet earth.” I watched until my allotted free time was over. Then I grabbed my wallet, ignored the fact that I would have literally laughed out loud at losers who did this sort of thing up until that very moment, and plunked down my credit card.

Hooked.

Obsessed.

Addicted.

Heartthrob is set up so you can see the girls, but they can’t see you. They can see what you type, though. Actually, everyone can see what you type. Everyone can see every disgusting, offensive, nauseating thing that every gross, living-in-their-mom’s-basement piece of garbage on the site is typing to the girl. I was mad at first — angry that these fuck-wads who’d clearly watched entirely too much porn kept butting in. Their asinine, crude comments chimed in like little unwanted flies buzzing around my head, until my anger turned to fury.

That’s when I saw the “private show” button, and that’s when I jumped head first into my obsession.

It’d be easy to say I did it out of some sort of fucked up, misguided urge to “save” her — to protect this random, anonymous girl from the neck-bearded, mouth-breathing trolls with their constant barrage of “show ur tits,” and “u want my cock bb?”

But I’m no white knight, and my intentions weren’t to protect, or save, or rescue.

…My intentions were to possess — to wall her off from everyone else and keep her as my own. Which is exactly what I did. She’d smiled a plastic, practiced smile when she’d seen the private show request from Big_Daddy_Vegas — the screen name jumped out at me when I glanced up and saw the “Daddy-O’s Big-Style Vegas Pizza” box on my kitchen counter. But when she saw my next request, her face had grown a little flush, and that smile had turned into a dropped jaw.

A private show on Heartthrob Cams is fifty bucks for half an hour — stackable for as long as the girl wants to keep doing a show for. At each half-hour, she can collect what you’ve pre-deposited onto the site.

…I’d put down fifty thousand dollars.

Three weeks. I’d bought three weeks, alone with her. No scummy pieces of shit cat-calling her. No one else looking at her. No other eyes watching her as she performed for me and me only.

Mine.

My pretty little bad girl.

My dirty little secret

Pretty. Dirty. And all mine.





2





Gray




“Um…” That smug, sassy look she had for the general crowd had faded after she’d said goodbye to those assholes and switched to the private chat with only me.

“I’m not sure what you’re looking for,” she said quietly. “I don’t escort or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just—”

Consider it a retainer. I’d typed, my blood roaring in my ears.

No more general chat, or other private shows with anyone else. No more pretending to smile for the losers begging you to say their names or piss yourself for them and all of that shit.

She’d half-smiled, but then hidden it away behind a concerned look as she shook her head.

“Look, I’m not going to be on camera twenty-four hours a day,” she tossed back. “I have a life.”

And I’m not going to be sitting in front of my computer twenty-four hours a day. I also have a life.

She’d grinned.

When I’m not on, you’re not on. Your time has already been paid for.

She’d rolled her eyes. “C’mon, what is thi—”

But when I am here…

I let it hang a second, watching her smile fade.

When I am here, you will be too. You’re my own private show for the next three weeks.

She’d swallowed, her face flush as her eyes darted over the screen, like she might somehow see me through it.

“All yours, huh?”

All mine.

Something roared in me. Something drunk on the power, and the control, and the raw, inescapable need to possess her, and make her mine entirely.

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?”

Entirely.

She’d swallowed again, her cheeks reddening slightly as she’d looked away an shaken her head. Finally though — and I could see the gears turning in her head — she turned back to the camera.

She’d nodded.

“Okay,” she’d said quietly. “Deal. Three weeks, no general chat, no other private chat. And how exactly do you plan on ‘summoning’ me, sir?”

I’d ignored the sarcasm in her comment and fixated on the “sir” part, which had sent a throb through my cock. Besides, I was already setting that up for her.

[email protected]. The password is “Carroll.”

She’d smirked. “I guess we read the same books. So, what, you just email me and I’m supposed to drop what I’m doing and get on camera?”

Exactly that.