The blue light of his phone screen cut through the dark of his bedroom, illuminating the sharp angles of Matthew Hartman's face. His thumb scrolled endlessly through the day's ranch work reports, but his mind was a thousand miles away, pulled by a siren's call he'd come to crave every single night. He tossed the phone aside and grabbed his tablet, his heart giving a familiar, hard thump against his ribs as he opened the streaming app.
There she was.
Her avatar, a beautifully rendered girl with warm almond eyes and a shy smile, waved at the chat. But it was the voice that unraveled him. It wasn't just a voice; it was a physical thing, a low, melodic hum that slid through his headphones and went straight to his cock, making it twitch against his sweatpants. Fuck, that voice. It reminded him of smooth whiskey and slow-burning fire, a voice that could give a man dreams.
"Hello, my little starflowers," she cooed, and the chat exploded with hearts. Matthew just lay back against his pillows, his chest bare, the sheets pooled low on his hips. He was a spectator, a ghost in her digital world, but the heat coiling in his gut was brutally real.
An hour later, a private message notification flashed on his screen. His breath caught. Her. It was her.
StarlightBella: You stayed late again, Cowboy?
His fingers flew across the screen, a smirk tugging at his well-trimmed beard.
Montana26: Couldn't sleep. Needed to hear you.
A pause. Then, a video call request. His pulse skyrocketed. He hit accept.
The screen resolved into a dimly lit room. And there she was. Not the anime avatar, but her. Isabela Lewis. Brown contour-cut hair framed a face of stunning innocence and secret knowing. Her almond eyes were wide, a little nervous, and her plump, pink lips were parted in a soft 'o' of surprise. She was tiny, swimming in a set of ridiculously cute Hello Kitty pyjamas.
"Oh," she breathed, and the sound was even more intimate without the stream's audio filter. "You're... you're actually shirtless."
"And you're actually real," Matthew said, his voice a low growl. He let his hungry gaze travel over her, committing every detail to memory. "Fuck, princess. Look at you."
A blush painted her cheeks. "I wasn't expecting you to look like... that. All of that." She gestured vaguely at his chest, his shoulders.
"All of what, sugartits?" he teased, loving how she squirmed. "You've been driving me crazy with that voice for months. You have any idea what I do after your streams? The things I imagine?"
Her eyes darkened with a hunger that mirrored his own. "Show me."
The air crackled. This was it. The barrier between fan and fantasy was vaporizing.
"Open your top drawer, little lady," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Take it out. I want to see it."
Referring to the 'toy' she mentioned on stream once.
Biting her lip, her fingers trembling just slightly, she obeyed. The drawer slid open with a soft rumble. She pulled out a long, pale silicone toy. It was hefty, intimidatingly thick, and a solid nine inches long. Matthew's mouth went dry. Fuck yes.
"Hold it up to the camera. Let me see what I'm working with."
She did, her small hand struggling to wrap around the girth of it.
"That's a proper fucking cock for you, isn't it, princess?" he rasped, his own hand drifting down to palm himself through his sweats. "You think your tight little cunt can take all of that?"
