35 A Game Video Call #2
Niyati's cheeks burned a deep crimson. "Just... setup the next game," she whispered softly, her eyes unable to stay away from his reflection.
The next round was a ruthless game of Connect Four, and Ansh played with a laser-focused, quiet intensity that left no room for error. Within minutes, he lined up his final piece, securing an effortless victory.
Setting his phone aside, he rested his elbows on his desk, his dark, hooded gaze dropping straight to the damp silk covering her lower half. "My win again," he purred, his voice dropping into a thick, velvety register that sent an intense shiver straight down her spine.
Niyati's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around her phone. "What... what do you want?"
"Take off your panties, Niyati," Ansh instructed huskily, his gaze pinning her to the spot. "I want you completely bare for me."
Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs.
Slowly, with trembling fingers, Niyati slid her hands beneath her thighs, hooking her fingers into the lace sides of her silk panties.
She slid them down her legs, stepping out of them completely before settling back onto her bed, exposed and shivering under his relentless gaze.
"God... you are stunning," Ansh growled softly, his hand unconsciously reaching down to grip his own length as his chest heaved. "One last game. Final round."
They launched into a high-stakes match of Ludo for the final, decisive game. The digital tension between them was electric, the quiet room filled only with the sound of their heavy breathing and the soft taps on their screens.
Niyati fought hard to keep up, but Ansh played with an absolute, unyielding desperation to win. On the final roll of the dice, his piece landed squarely in the home triangle, securing his final victory.
Ansh tossed his phone onto his desk, his breathing heavy and ragged as he looked up into the camera, his dark eyes dilated with pure, unadulterated hunger. "I won, baby," he rasped softly.
The silence between them was thick, humming with the low thrum of their respective laptops and the unspoken weight of what came next. Ansh had won. The thought settled in his gut, a warm, heavy certainty.
"Alright," he said, his voice a low rumble that barely disturbed the quiet. "Move your laptop. I want it at the foot of the bed, facing up."
Niyati didn't reply with words. A slight nod, her dark eyes holding his gaze through the camera. The view on his screen tilted dizzyingly as she complied, a chaotic blur of her bedroom ceiling, then the wooden floor, before it settled on a new perspective.
He was now looking down the length of her bed, the duvet a mess of tangled white.
She positioned the device carefully, then stepped back into the frame.
Her body was a silhouette against the dim light from her window, all soft curves and long limbs.
He watched the subtle shift of muscle as she moved, the way her breasts swayed gently with her steps.
"Get on the bed," he instructed. "Lie down in the middle."
She did, sinking into the mattress with a soft sigh that his speakers picked up. She arranged herself on her back, her head pillowed by her hands, her body a long, pale line stretched out for him.
The camera angle was perfect, giving him a direct, unobstructed view of her from her knees to the crown of her head. He could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the flat plane of her stomach, the dark triangle of hair between her legs.
"Now," Ansh continued, his own hand resting on his thigh, his fingers twitching with anticipation. "Spread your legs. Let me see you."
A beat of hesitation. Then, slowly, her knees bent and fell apart.
The movement was deliberate, a gradual unveiling.
Her legs opened, revealing the delicate, pink folds of her pussy.
He could see the slight glisten of her arousal already there, a testament to the tension that had been building between them all evening.
His breath hitched in his throat. On his end of the call, his cock began to thicken, stirring against his thigh.
"Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Put your hand between your legs and show me how you like it."
Her right hand slid down her stomach, her fingers tracing a path over her hip before disappearing into the space between her thighs. He watched, mesmerized, as her middle finger made its first slow pass over her clit.
A soft gasp escaped her lips, a sound that shot straight through him. At the same moment, Ansh wrapped his own hand around his now fully erect dick.
The skin was hot and smooth in his palm. He gave a single, slow stroke from base to tip, his thumb smearing the bead of pre-cum that had welled up at the slit. A low groan rumbled in his chest, a mirror to her sharp intake of breath.
"Yeah, just like that," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the screen. On it, Niyati's finger began to move in a small, tight circle. Her hips started a subtle rocking motion, pushing up to meet her own hand. Her back arched slightly, her head pressing deeper into the pillows.
The sight was intoxicating, a private performance just for him. He tightened his grip on his cock, his strokes becoming more purposeful, matching the rhythm he saw her setting.
"Use two fingers," he directed. "Rub your clit a little faster."
She obeyed without question. Her index and middle fingers joined the dance, the friction clearly more intense. Her breaths grew shorter, coming out in soft pants. He could see the muscles in her thighs tensing, the way her toes curled into the duvet.
The sounds she was making-little whimpers and sighs-were the most erotic thing he'd ever heard. They fueled his own movements, his hand flying up and down his shaft now, the slick sound of his own arousal mixing with hers in his headphones.
"Don't stop," he breathed, his own voice strained with pleasure. "I want to see you cum for me, Niyati."
Her response was a choked moan, her fingers working frantically, her whole body taut like a drawn bowstring.
He watched her face, contorted in pleasure, her mouth slightly open, her eyes squeezed shut.
He was getting close himself, the familiar heat coiling at the base of his spine, his balls drawing up tight.
He stroked himself faster, harder, chasing the edge, his gaze locked on the image of her falling apart. He could see her pussy clenching, see the slick wetness coating her fingers.
The world narrowed to the two of them, separated by miles but connected by this raw, shared act of voyeurism and mutual masturbation. He was right there with her, teetering on the precipice, ready to fall over the edge the moment she did.
The coil in Niyati's belly snapped. A sharp, high-pitched cry tore from her throat as her orgasm crashed over her, a violent, shuddering wave that seized every muscle in her body. Her back arched off the mattress, a taut bow of pure sensation, and her heels dug into the duvet.
The frantic circling of her fingers faltered, then pressed hard against her clit, prolonging the exquisite, overwhelming pulse. In the throes of it, her body jerked, a spasm of uncontrolled pleasure that sent her right leg kicking out. Her foot connected solidly with the base of her laptop.