Uncover Me. AM Hartnett

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СКАЧАТЬ right. I’ll see it soon enough.’

      ‘You think so.’

      ‘I’ll wear you down. Speaking of your amazing body, when are you going to post more shots of you in fishnets?’

      ‘When I’m in the mood.’

      ‘You come harder when you wear them, don’t you?’

      She paused, fingers over the keyboard. Were all her subscribers reading her so easily?

      ‘Gotcha,’ he typed. ‘It’s easy to tell. Your nipples get really hard and you get goose bumps. And you’re insanely wet.’

      ‘It’s a part of the fantasy. What do you want?’

      ‘To play with you. Literally.’

      She glanced at the benign boy-next-door photo maximised behind the chat window. She mentally tried to pair that classically handsome face with the man in the video who’d played with his lover, and found herself out of breath. The slow heat between her legs burned as her imagination weaved a tapestry. She could see herself in those fishnets he loved, legs wrapped around his waist, lips painted red and parted with a gasp as he gave her one sinful inch at a time.

      The chat window flashed as he sent another message. ‘You don’t seem like the type to scare off easily. Maybe I was wrong.’

      ‘Look, if you’re looking for a quick fuck, look elsewhere. Thanks for looking at my pictures and all that, but I’m not interested.’

      ‘Not looking for a quick fuck, but now that I’ve talked to you, you seem like a sweet girl in fuck-me heels. I’m more interested than ever. Just meet me once and we’ll see where things go from there. No expectation. No nothing. Just … coffee.’

      ‘I don’t think so.’

      ‘Why not?’

      She got up and headed back to the kitchen. The room swayed a little, but that didn’t stop her pouring out the last of the wine.

      Why not? She could think of a million reasons, all of which involved ending up as a Dateline Mystery. She didn’t know him. He was just one of her pet perverts, nameless and faceless. He could be anyone. He could be dangerous.

      And besides, she liked what she had going on. She could come and go as she pleased, getting off when she wanted and how she wanted it. She didn’t need a man in her life right now, even for a fling. It had taken her a long time to feel comfortable alone, and she wasn’t ready to give it up even for a few hours of sweating between the sheets.

      His message was waiting for her when she stumbled back to the desk. ‘You pick the time and place. Broad daylight. One cup of coffee. A quick chat. You pull the plug whenever you want.’

      Her curiosity growing, Carrie looked at the photo and then, cringing at her own weakness as she did, went back to the video. This time, she paid particular attention to the sound of his voice: the primal grunts that escalated as he pumped the woman harder, and within the woman’s shrieks the muttered words ‘That’s it, baby. Come over my cock.’

      I don’t need this, she thought, going back to the chat window. She said it over and over in her head to convince herself.

      I like being alone.

      I’m not into casual sex.

      I’m still healing.

      The chat window flashed. ‘Still with me, Maggie?’

      This is nuts.

      Temptation won out. She could be that woman for real, for just an hour in a crowded coffee shop. Even if it was a disaster, she could be Maggie even for a little bit. She didn’t have to fuck him. She didn’t have to do anything but let him adore her in person.

      She pulled the keyboard closer and sucked in a deep breath.

      ‘One cup of coffee. One hour. Get a pen, I’ll tell you when and where.’

       Chapter Three

      Sitting at a corner table with a steaming cup of tea in front of her, Carrie couldn’t remember the last time she was so wound up.

      She’d arrived early, because that’s who she was. She always had to be prepared. She had to scope things out, look for distractions, escape routes, and to plot scenarios.

      Since she had taken her seat, she’d found herself stuck on the same terrifying scenario. The video wasn’t really him. The man with the tattoo on his shoulder, the man who was in front of his computer in a North End condo, wasn’t the man who was coming to meet her. The pretty face and hot body were just lures, and she was waiting for some disgusting little man who had gotten tired of being shot down for intimate encounters on online dating sites.

      As she sat there, part of her wished she had never started that damned blog. Giving herself a little exhibitionist thrill several times a day was simply not worth the anxiety that was killing her now.

      You did this to yourself, not the blog. You could have pushed him back. You could have closed Dirty Pictures and started a new blog, taken new pictures and been more careful next time.

      She brought her tea up to her lips and blew on it. She had no desire whatsoever to drink it, but wanted to hide behind it. Lift and blow. Lift and blow. All the while peeking at the door to see what this nightmare would bring her.

      Every time a man walked in, her heart jumped into her throat and her stomach rolled.

       You should have just told him to fuck off. You didn’t show your face. He’d never be able to prove it was you in 605. It could have been a cleaning lady, or any other woman in the building.

      Yet there was no pinning it on him, at least not entirely. He hadn’t threatened her or so much as hinted at blackmail. He’d even given her the opportunity to say no, but she hadn’t, because she was curious. Because she wanted to know what would happen.

       You’re not Maggie.

      The door jingled open.

      Lift and blow, and the young man made a beeline for a crowded table by the window.

      Carrie wished she had picked a different coffee shop. This one was riddled with university students, but it was the only one she could think of that guaranteed she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew. She didn’t want to have to suffer interruptions and introductions. She wanted to be able to run when she pleased.

      Carrie practised her escape in her head. If he came in and it wasn’t the man in the pictures, he didn’t know her face and she could retreat in just a few steps. She’d look at her watch, slide her sunglasses off her face and hike her purse over her shoulder. Then she’d breeze past him without the slightest acknowledgement.

      Just like that, she’d leave. She’d go home, delete her blog and pray she never heard from him СКАЧАТЬ