Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Eric

I checked my watch for the second time in five minutes. The cafe was bustling at this hour and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was here, somewhere, looking for me.

Though, to be fair, I looked a lot different with my clothes on.

Maybe I should start bringing pictures of my dick to these meet-ups so people can identify me better.

I sighed, taking a sip of my coffee as I watched folks hustle in and out of the cafe. A couple of nonchalant stares and whispers from some women told me they either thought I was cute or they recognized me from my work.

Despite my audience being made up of mostly men, I knew there were plenty of women out there who were into my performances, if only by the sheer amount of “I want to choke on this dick” and “fill me up Daddy” comments I received on my Daily Cum Shot threads from cock thirsty women subscribers.

I bounced my leg with anticipation, checking my watch again.

My blind date was now fifteen minutes late.

Or he wasn’t coming at all.

I would bet it was the latter.

I wasn’t ashamed of what I did for a living by any means. Though I’d learned to at least keep the “Hi, I’m Eric, you might know me from Only Fans as XxPrinceAyricxX” to myself until they at least showed up.

I could swipe right on anyone when it came to hooking up, but I wasn’t looking for someone to just placate my sexual desires. If I wanted that, I could have anyone I wanted.

Call me crazy, but I wanted more . Sex might have been my job, and I wasn’t lacking when it came to dick. What I was lacking though, was substance. I wanted someone to love me, and I’m not talking about the me that half a million people watched daily. I wanted someone who I could play video games and watch stupid gay movies with, but also someone who wouldn’t bat an eye at eating sushi off my dick.

What can I say, I have priorities.

You’d think as a man who interacts with thirsty subscribers for a living, I would be more than fulfilled. But the truth was, every day I turned off my webcam, spent from my performance, and I felt empty as shit.

And the deafening silence of my townhome was not helping my mental health when everything screamed, “You are alone!”

Just once, I wanted to see someone else loafing on my couch, someone else raiding my fridge.

Someone else using my shampoo and shower gel.

I wanted to walk down the street with someone respectable, some modern-day prince charming with a cup of coffee, I wanted to wake up next to a man who wasn’t going to leave after breakfast and never come back.

I drained the last bit of my coffee as my notifications went off on my phone one after the other.

No doubt the masses were all commenting their praise and dirty thoughts, as I’d only just posted my latest video an hour ago, right before I left for this blind date my friend, Julie, insisted I go on.

I found it easier to try and get to know a guy if I unloaded a round first. I wasn’t one of those guys who could go multiple rounds when I was performing, despite my stamina training. Maybe when I was in college I could pull that off, but now, I needed a break in between, partially because it took a lot of focus and concentration—as well as training—to be able to perform at the level my subscribers required, and to get a good, full shot for the camera.

Which is why I only posted once a week now instead of the two or three times a week I posted when I started my OF.

I got up, headed to the trash to pitch my coffee as a text came in among the strings of OF notifications.

Buried beneath the “I want that all over me,” and the “need someone to suck that?” comments, Julie’s bright purple icon blinked at me.

I’m waiting...

I huffed a sigh as I texted her back.

Yeah, me too. Your mark never showed.

I casually strolled to my black Benz—the first big purchase I’d made after I switched from amateur camming to the big leagues and opened my OF. I’d worked my ass off—well, my cock off too—to have the things I did. My townhome, my car, my top of the line sneaker collection.

But once men heard how I’d made a living for myself—despite the fact my job actually consisted of more than just coming on camera every day—their damn balls disappeared and suddenly I became a damn leper, and most of them just never called me again.

Julie typed away.

What? Are you sure?

I rolled my eyes as the car unlocked, picking up on the signal from the keys in my pocket.

I arrived ten minutes early so I could get my coffee, and just left. I waited for a half hour, Jules. No one approached me.

I’d even worn my “nice” blazer, the purple velvet one that made me look sophisticated, yet stylish.

It was easy to pick out a bright purple jacket amidst the muted tones of Jasper Springs’s average population, which was why I’d chosen it.

I started the car, feeling defeated.

You didn’t tell him about the OF, did you?

I hoped Julie had remembered to keep her mouth shut. Lord knew, when she got to talking sometimes, shit just sliped out.

Of course I didn’t. You asked me not to. She responded, quickly adding, I told him you work in social media.

That was the understatement of the year.

My shoulders fell as anxiety crept in.

It was a small town, what were the odds they looked me up?

That maybe they already knew?

Slim, probably, but not zero.

I was careful to keep my public profile separate from my OF, but if someone really wanted to dig around, I’m sure they could find out what my self-owned business was.

Oh well. Another one bites the dust, I guess.

Guess I’m just chopped liver then. I texted back.

I’m sorry, Eric. Maybe something happened, do you want me to reach out and ask?

I considered her words as I pulled out of the parking lot.

The last thing I wanted was to appear desperate, even to Julie. If some asshole couldn’t be bothered to show up, why should I beg for his attention?

But a part of me wanted to believe that maybe there was a good reason. Maybe something came up at work, or maybe they had to rescue a fucking cat from a tree or some shit. Anything.

But I was already over the situation, and I wanted to move on. I wanted to forget about being overlooked yet again, because I didn’t want to go down the road of self-loathing.

What I wanted to do was to get a drink and maybe find some hot piece of ass to take home and numb the pain of rejection for a little while.

Just for the night, anyway, since apparently that’s all I was capable of landing.

No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Jules. Thanks anyway.

I tossed the phone on the passenger seat, not even bothering to check her response as I sped toward M’s Place.