Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Finally, a message appears. That’s a fantasy of mine as well. I didn’t realize it until now.
A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be alone for Christmas.
You aren’t the first to tell me that.
For a moment, I forget about the cameras, the stalking, the lies. All I can think about is the possibility of spending Christmas with her, of waking up next to her on a cold winter morning, of sharing hot cocoa and stolen kisses by a fireplace.
Two people alone for Christmas, huh? I reply, feeling as if I’m walking on eggshells. I don’t want to be too forward too fast.
I want to invite myself over. I want to suggest we spend Christmas together. But I can’t. Not yet. It’s too soon, too risky. I have to play this carefully.
But I wasn’t lying when I told her that my biggest fantasy is not having to spend Christmas alone. Ever since my mother died . . . I can’t bring myself to finish that thought. The pain of losing her is still too raw, even after all these years. Instead, I focus on Chloe, on the possibility of a future where I’m not alone.
Maybe we don’t have to be alone, Chloe types back. What if . . . what if we spent it together? You gave me one of my fantasies at Naughty and Nice. It seems only fair that I give you one of yours.
How can I pull this off? How can I spend Christmas with Chloe and her not discover who I am? It’s one thing wearing a mask and a cloak in a dark club. I could speak in a low tone, covered by the sound of loud club music. It’s another spending intimate time together in the hushed comfort of her house. I can’t exactly wear a mask on Christmas Eve and practically growl out commands, now can I? How far can masked cave man act go?
Giving me one of my fantasies? I begin typing, thinking of every possibility to keep my charade alive. Whatever I want for Christmas?
I see her smile as she answers, Yes. My Christmas gift to you. That’s if you’ve been a good boy and you’re on Santa’s nice list.
Oh, I’ve been good. Very, very good.
I’m sure you have, Chloe replies. I can almost hear the teasing lilt to her words . So yes, you get your Christmas present however you want it. Just tell me.
I want my present wrapped in a bow on Christmas Eve, I type.
A bow?
Yes. I want you blindfolded when I arrive at your house. A red ribbon tied tightly around your perfect face. I want you completely naked, legs spread wide open, laying on your bed waiting for me.
The man knows what he wants. Which of course is sexy as fuck.
I can do that—
I’m going to arrive at ten p.m. on Christmas Eve. I’m going to knock on your door and give you two minutes to get ready. When I enter, I want to see you exactly as I described. Do you understand?
Yes, I understand, Chloe replies. Ten p.m. on Christmas Eve. Blindfolded, naked, with a red ribbon. I’ll be waiting.
I stare at her words, a mix of disbelief and primal need coursing through me. This is really happening.
Good girl, I type back. And remember, no peeking. The blindfold stays on the entire time.
On the nanny cam, I see Chloe squirm in her chair, clearly aroused by the idea. Okay, she types. I trust you.
Those three words hit me like a punch to the gut. She trusts me. If only she knew the truth.
But I push the guilt aside. This is what I’ve wanted for so long. I’m not going to let anything ruin it now.
You won’t regret it, I type back. I promise to make it a Christmas Eve you’ll never forget.
I watch as Chloe reads my message, her lips curving into a smile. She types back, I haven’t done Christmas in a really long time.
Same.
My house isn’t decorated.
You in a red bow is the only decoration I need.
I’ve never done anything like this, she continues to confess.
Inviting a masked man you nearly fucked at a club to your house is not your norm, you say? I type, smirking as I do.
I see and hear her laugh. I smile, watching her through the camera.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I want to reassure her, to tell her she has nothing to fear from me. But how can I do that without revealing too much?
I would never hurt you, I type finally. You can trust me.
She’s quiet for a long moment, and I watch her face on the camera, trying to decipher her thoughts. Finally, she responds.
I know. I don’t know why, but I do trust you. This is wild. Borderline insane. If anyone in my life knew I was doing this . . .