🔥 The Anniversary Stream 🔥

An Exclusive Bonus Scene from Click Bait

✨ EXCLUSIVE BONUS SCENE ✨

The Anniversary Stream

Set one year after the wedding

The notification appeared on my phone at exactly 8:47 PM.

CherryLaRue is LIVE (Private)

I stared at the screen, my heart doing something complicated in my chest. Sarah had been mysteriously absent all evening—”setting up a surprise,” she’d said, with that particular smile that always meant trouble. The good kind. The kind that usually ended with me forgetting my own name.

Accept invitation?

I was already moving toward our home office before I consciously decided to. The door was closed. A strip of pink light glowed underneath it.

My finger hovered over the accept button.

We’d been married for a year now. Three hundred and sixty-five days of learning that love wasn’t a destination but a daily choice. Three hundred and sixty-five days of her sunshine burning through every shadow I’d ever hidden inside. And still—still—she could make my pulse race with nothing more than a notification.

I pressed accept.

The stream loaded on my phone first, then I swiped it to my tablet for a better view. Our office had been transformed. Ring lights cast Sarah in a soft pink glow. She’d set up her old streaming equipment—the good camera, the professional lighting—but this wasn’t her usual setup. Fairy lights draped across the background. Candles flickered on every surface. And Sarah…

God. Sarah.

She was wearing something I’d never seen before. A silk robe in deep burgundy, barely tied, revealing glimpses of black lace underneath. Her pink hair was loose around her shoulders. Her makeup was done the way she used to do it for her shows—dramatic eyes, glossed lips—but softer somehow. More intimate.

“Hey, Rook.” Her voice came through the speakers, warm and teasing. “Welcome to the show.”

I should have gone in there. Should have crossed the hallway and pushed open that door and—

“Ah-ah.” She wagged a finger at the camera like she could read my mind. “Tonight, you watch. Those are the rules.”

“Rules?” My voice came out rougher than intended.

She smiled. That smile. The one that had destroyed me in a hotel elevator three years ago. “Our anniversary. My show. My rules.” She shifted on the bed—our bed, I realized, she’d moved the setup to our bedroom—and the robe slipped off one shoulder. “Unless you want me to stop?”

I sat down heavily on the office chair. “Don’t you dare.”

“That’s what I thought.” She reached for something off-screen and held it up. A small black remote. “Remember this?”

I remembered. My whole body remembered. We’d bought it together six months ago, a joke that had become very much not a joke very quickly. The app on my phone suddenly felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket.

“Tonight,” Sarah said, settling back against the pillows, “you’re going to watch. You’re going to stay exactly where you are. And you’re going to tell me exactly what you want to see.” She traced a finger along her collarbone, down to where the robe’s tie barely held. “Think of it as… interactive content.”

“Sarah—”

“Cherry.” Her correction was gentle but firm. “Tonight, I’m Cherry LaRue. And you…” She looked directly into the camera, and I swear she could see me through it. “You’re my favorite viewer.”

The robe slipped lower.

* * *

I’d watched her stream before—back when we were enemies, when I told myself it was reconnaissance. Back when I’d close her tab with shaking hands and pretend I hadn’t just seen something that rewired my entire understanding of desire.

This was different.

This was for me.

“Tell me what you want,” she murmured, her fingers toying with the robe’s tie. “I can’t hear you if you don’t use your words.”

I pulled up the chat function. Just her and me. Private. Encrypted. Ours.

Rook_Official: Take it off.

She laughed, low and delighted. “So demanding. What happened to my patient speedrunner? The one who spent six months perfecting a single input?”

Rook_Official: That was before you. Take. It. Off.

“Mmm.” She pulled the tie slowly, letting the silk fall open inch by inch. The black lace underneath was barely there—a bralette that did nothing to hide anything, matching underwear that was more suggestion than fabric. “Better?”

Better wasn’t the word. I was already aching, already halfway to desperate, and she’d barely begun.

“Now.” She held up the remote again. “Let’s play a game. For every command I follow, you have to answer a question honestly. No deflecting. No stoic silence.” Her eyes gleamed. “Think you can handle that?”

I could handle anything she threw at me. I’d proven that. A year of marriage, two years of loving her, and I’d learned to crack myself open in ways I never thought possible. For her, I’d learned to be soft. To be honest. To be seen.

Rook_Official: Ask your question.

She smiled like she’d already won something. “What were you thinking? The first time you watched my stream. The real answer.”

The memory surfaced immediately—sitting in my dark apartment, telling myself I was studying the enemy. Telling myself the heat in my chest was anger. Telling myself the way I couldn’t look away was just… tactical assessment.

Rook_Official: I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And I was terrified of what that meant.

Something shifted in her expression. Softened. For a moment, Cherry LaRue disappeared and it was just Sarah—my Sarah, the woman who’d taught me that vulnerability wasn’t weakness.

Then the performer returned, sliding her hands up her stomach. “Good answer. You’ve earned…” She cupped her own breasts through the lace, and I forgot how to breathe. “This.”

She touched herself like she had all the time in the world. Like she wasn’t systematically dismantling my self-control through a screen. The lace did nothing to hide the way her body responded to her own hands—I could see everything, every detail, every small reaction that told me exactly what she was feeling.

“Next question.” Her voice was breathier now. “What do you want me to do? Be specific.”

Rook_Official: I want you to take off the bra. I want to see you.

“Greedy.” But she was already reaching back, unclasping it with practiced ease. The lace fell away and I made a sound I wasn’t proud of.

“Tell me what you see,” she whispered.

Rook_Official: Perfection.

“Flatterer.” But her cheeks flushed. “Try again. Specifically.”

I stared at the screen, at the woman I loved laid out for me like an offering. Three years of learning her body and I still couldn’t get enough. Every curve. Every freckle. The small scar on her hip from a childhood accident. The way her chest rose and fell faster when she was aroused.

Rook_Official: I see the woman who saved my life. I see the person who taught me that strength isn’t about walls—it’s about who you let inside them. I see my wife. And I see that she’s wet.

Her laugh was shaky. “How do you—”

Rook_Official: I know you. I know every tell. Your breathing changes. Your thighs press together. You’re touching yourself right now, aren’t you? Just a little. Just enough to take the edge off.

Her hand stilled between her legs. “Maybe.”

Rook_Official: Stop.

The command hung in the digital space between us. I watched her hand freeze. Watched her eyes widen slightly. Watched the way her whole body responded to two words on a screen.

“Lena…”

Rook_Official: My turn to make the rules. Keep your hands where I can see them. I’m going to tell you exactly what to do, and you’re going to do it. Understand?

She swallowed. Nodded. Placed her hands on either side of her hips, gripping the sheets.

“Yes.”

* * *

The remote sat on my desk. The app on my phone showed the device was connected, charged, ready.

Rook_Official: Put it on.

She reached for something off-screen—I heard the small buzz as it activated—and then she was sliding the toy into place, adjusting it until her breath caught. “Okay. I’m—”

I opened the app. Started with the lowest setting.

Her whole body arched off the bed. “Oh fuck—”

Rook_Official: Too much?

“No, I—” She gasped as I pulsed the intensity slightly higher. “I thought you’d warn me.”

Rook_Official: Where’s the fun in that?

I could see everything. Every twitch. Every shudder. The way her fingers clawed at the sheets as I found a rhythm, building her up, then easing back just when her breathing started to fracture.

“Lena, please—”

Rook_Official: Please what? Use your words, Cherry. Tell me what you need.

“I need—” Another pulse, stronger this time, and her voice broke. “I need you to let me—”

Rook_Official: Not yet.

She whimpered. Actually whimpered. My stoic, unflappable wife who could stare down trolls and stalkers and the entire internet—whimpering because I told her to wait.

I was going to remember this forever.

“You’re evil,” she managed. “You’re—oh god—you’re absolutely—”

Rook_Official: I’m your wife. I’m the person who knows exactly what your body can take. And I’m telling you that you’re not done yet.

I kept her there, on the edge, for what felt like hours. The app let me control everything—speed, pattern, intensity—and I used every tool at my disposal. Built her up until she was begging. Eased back until she was cursing my name. Found rhythms that made her forget words entirely and reduced her to pure sensation.

She was beautiful. Devastating. The most incredible thing I’d ever witnessed.

And she was mine.

“Please.” Her voice was wrecked now, barely recognizable. “Lena, please, I can’t—I need—”

Rook_Official: What do you need?

“You.” She opened her eyes and looked directly at the camera, directly at me. “I need you. Not through a screen. I need—”

I was already moving.

* * *

The bedroom door swung open and she looked up at me with dark eyes, her whole body trembling with denied release.

“Finally,” she breathed. “God, I thought you’d never—”

I kissed her before she could finish. Kissed her the way I’d wanted to since the stream started—deep and desperate and hungry. She tasted like cherry lip gloss and need and home.

“Mean,” she gasped against my mouth. “You’re so mean, making me wait—”

“You started this.” I climbed onto the bed, covering her body with mine. “You set the rules. I just played the game.”

“The rules said you had to watch—”

“The stream ended.” I reached down and felt the toy still buzzing against her. Her whole body jerked. “You said ‘I need you.’ That sounded like an invitation.”

“It was—oh fuck, Lena—”

I turned the intensity up. All the way. And watched her shatter.

She came with a sound that would have been embarrassing if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard. Her body bowed off the bed, her hands finding my shoulders, my back, any part of me she could reach as wave after wave crashed through her.

I held her through it. Kissed her through it. And when the tremors started to ease, I kept the toy going until they built again.

“I can’t—” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Lena, I can’t—”

“You can.” I kissed her jaw, her throat, the sensitive spot behind her ear. “You can because I’m telling you to. One more.”

“I can’t—”

“You will.” Another kiss, to the corner of her mouth this time. “For me.”

She did.

* * *

Later, much later, we lay tangled together in the wrecked sheets. The fairy lights still glowed. The candles had burned low. I’d finally turned off the toy and removed it, and Sarah was boneless against my chest, tracing idle patterns on my skin.

“Happy anniversary,” she mumbled.

I laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy anniversary. That was…”

“Incredible? Mind-blowing? The best gift you’ve ever received?”

“All of the above.” I tightened my arm around her. “Where did you even get that idea?”

“I used to do anniversary specials. Back in the day.” She tilted her head up to look at me. “Never had anyone who mattered watching before, though. Never had someone I wanted to perform for. Not like this.”

My chest ached in the best possible way. Three years, and she could still do this to me. Make me feel like the luckiest person alive just by existing.

“I love you,” I said. The words came easily now—another gift she’d given me. “I love you, and that was the most incredible thing anyone has ever done for me, and I’m going to need at least an hour before I can attempt to return the favor.”

She grinned. “Only an hour?”

“Maybe forty-five minutes.”

“There’s my competitive speedrunner.” She kissed me softly. “Taking on impossible challenges.”

“You’re not impossible.” I tucked a strand of pink hair behind her ear. “You’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.”

“Sap.”

“Your sap.”

“Yeah.” Her smile softened into something private, something just for us. “You are.”

Outside, the city lights glittered through our window. Somewhere, the internet spun on without us—a thousand streams, a million viewers, an endless hunger for content and connection. But in here, in our room, in the quiet aftermath of something that was just ours—

We had everything that mattered.

“Next year,” Sarah murmured sleepily, “I’m thinking costumes.”

I pulled her closer and smiled against her hair.

“I’ll start practicing.”

THE END

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