Glitch (Next Level Book 1)

I was nervous about texting Glitch. Stupid, right? We chat on Discord sometimes, but I don’t know. Having his cell feels… different. More intimate? I don’t know why it feels that way.

Okay. Yes, I do. But I’m not about to admit that I’ve fallen for a guy I barely know, who I’ve never seen, and who has basic conversations with me online. It’s embarrassing. I haven’t said a word about it to Trey, and I sure as shit would never say anything to Carson, but Glitch has been a constant tip-toe area for months.

Coming to him with a broken computer is not how I thought we’d finally meet. I don’t like asking for help. I also don’t like it when things are fucked up. It makes me feel messy and out of control. As an artist, I don’t mind mess on canvas. Hell, I don’t mind chaos on canvas either. But that’s my mental space. My control. I tell the paint where to go. When shit breaks around me and I can’t fix it? That’s next level anxiety.

I stress a lot. When I’m painting, I’m in a calm-zone, but the instant I step back, self-doubt and imposter syndrome creep in. Gaming is my stress reliever. With everything I’ve had going on lately, I’ve barely been online.

And the only other stress reliever I have comes with a rechargeable battery.

I suck at being social. I hate big crowds. I’m an awkward turtle who is obsessed with anime, gaming, and art. God bless Trey for including me on these nights. When he called to say Glitch would work on my computer, relief made me twenty pounds lighter. I’m desperate.

And I’m pissed.

Yes, my computer was kicked. And ever since, it’s gotten worse and worse when I use it. 

Walking away from frustration—my broke ass computer—I leave my phone on the kitchen table and head into my bedroom.

While other women my age are clubbing on this fine Friday night, I’m in my bed with noise canceling headphones and a battery boyfriend by my side. Look, I’d love to have a hot guy in here with me, but that requires more effort than I’m willing to give. Dating sites suck, as my last three boyfriends have proven. Bars and clubs are noisy and overpriced and fun for a half a minute. I’m not good at socializing and have no intention of throwing my insecure ass out there to get rejected again.

I wish I could feel pathetic, but I don’t. I’m sick of being burned. Sick of being told I’m not good enough, not skinny enough, not fun enough. I tell that to myself daily. I don’t need it reinforced by another shitty boyfriend.

Glitch not included.

I can’t imagine what he’d be like as a boyfriend. I can’t even imagine would he looks like. But his online personality—God, I hope it’s real—is wonderful. He’s encouraging and funny. He makes me feel… safe. Just having his Discord channel open makes me feel like I have a place to go if I need it. Which is stuuuuupiiiiddd. I know, I know. But have you ever felt a connection with someone and can’t explain how that could be possible? That’s Glitch for me.

And I love his voice. It’s so fucking deep, it gives me goosebumps every time he says something, which isn’t nearly often enough. His laugh tonight made me wet. I’m so glad I live alone. I’d die if someone caught the wet spot I have in my leggings.

Laying back on my pillows, I close my eyes and picture what a night with Glitch would be like. I’m a creative woman, and I’ve spent months painting visions of this man in my head. We talk a lot in my fantasies. And his mouth is as dirty as my mind…

“Heyyy, Kitty.”

My smile nearly splits my face. Meow.

“Did you miss me?”

Yes.

“I couldn’t get you off my mind.”

Same.

“Did you wear this outfit all day?”

Yes.

“Turn around. Let me see you.”

I imagine spinning in a slow, sensual circle where I sway my hips and give him a nice show of every curve I possess. They all belong to him…

“Fuck, you’re stunning. Look how hard you make me.” He sucks in air through his teeth. Grunts. “I want to gouge out the eyes of every man who looked at you today.”

I bite my lip again. Glitch says the sweetest things.

“This,” he growls, all primal and deep in my ears, “is mine.”

My cheeks heat.

“Take off your clothes. I want to see what I own.”

I shimmy out of my leggings and almost knock the kitty-eared headset off when I pull my shirt over my head. With my eyes closed and imagination in overdrive, it almost feels like this could be a little bit real. I envision Glitch with tats down his arms, big hands and dark hair, but I never see his face. I just can’t picture it, ever.

“Lay back and spread your legs for me, Kitty.”

I do as he says. I pretend he calls me Kitty only because of one conversation we had when I told him I got a new pair of headphones that had cat ears. I love these things and wanted to geek out about them to someone. Glitch was my someone. Next time we were online, he typed, “Hey Kitty, how was your day?” and I nearly squealed. He never called me Kitty again, but that’s okay. He calls me that all the time in my fantasies.

“Look at you,” I pretend he purrs in my ears. “So wet already. Did you think about me today, Kitty?”

I think about you all the time.

“Did you think about my cock? Your body was built just for me to play with and pleasure.”

Bzzzzzzz. I grip my toy like a weapon for big-time clitoral damage.

“Show me where you want it.”

I spread my legs and set my toy right where it needs to be. With my other hand, I graze my fingertips over my tits and pinch my nipple.

“So needy,” he grumbles, and I imagine his register dips even lower. My body is already coiling. Tightening.

“I can’t get you out of my head, Ara. I need to taste you. Fuck, I need to—” His words cut off, replaced with a deep, throaty primal sound that makes my toes curl. His breaths punch out, like he’s having trouble controlling his urges around me. I imagine he exhales a ragged breath and says, “Open your mouth, Kitty. Let me feed you my cock.”

In my head, I obey. And when I imagine him groaning, as if I feel so good to him he can’t contain his noises, I feel a hot ribbon coil tighter inside myself.

To be the one who makes a sexy man break. To feel so unbelievably good, he unravels at the touch of my lips.

Real or fake, it does things to me.

I play with my clit, imagining I’m sucking him off.

He grunts and shoves deeper down my throat. “I’m gonna come.”

Me too.

I’m too far gone in sensations to hold up my imagination. My head gets a little fuzzy. “Glitch.” I shove two fingers inside my pussy and turn up the vibration on my toy.

“Such a needy girl.”

I imagine his breaths pick up and start to match mine. Every cell in my body sets on fire and the orgasm I have makes me explode. My pussy clenches. My clit’s swollen. I’m dripping between my legs by the time I’m done.

Laying on my back, I struggle to regain focus. My cheeks tingle. I’m limp and thirsty.

With my ears still ringing, I meander into the kitchen for a glass of water. Leaning on the counter, I sigh with a stupid smile on my face. Glitch is the best lover I’ve never had.

Too tired to sketch tonight, and too wired to sleep, I’m not sure what else to do. Maybe hop online again and see if the guys are still up and playing? Trey doesn’t have a life. He’s probably still up.

Hmmm.

I go over to my computer and boot it up. The fans run, the lights brighten and then…

Shutdown.

Damnit.

I hate using my laptop, so I refuse to even consider it again. At least Glitch is willing to look at my computer. I hope he can fix it. Speaking of—

I snatch my cell and see he’s sent a reply.

Glitch: I’m going to wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze until you see God.

Wow. I… I’m not even sure what to say to that. Maybe this is a joke? Fuck knows Carson and Trey are always talking shit. Blame it my post-orgasmic haze, but his reply about choking me out throws a curve ball to my imagination. One I’ll happily catch and lob right back.

You want to play, Glitch? Let’s play.

Biting my lip, I punch in my response.