19. A Naughty Game #2
"If you think that I don't have her phone bugged, her movements tracked, and her every breath recorded, you are dead wrong.
I protect what's mine. Something you should have thought about before you belittled and abused her.
" He growled, planning on detaining exactly what he had just done and what she could expect to happen over the course of the next few days.
He'd been waiting to destroy Augusta for years, and he couldn't wait for her to know it.
But movement to his left stopped him. It was Iris, standing in their living room, moving a chair directly in front of the camera. What was she doing?
He ignored Augusta and enlarged the feed from that camera. She looked up at the camera and winked. What game was she playing? She answered his question when her fingers dropped to the hem of her shirt and pulled it slowly over her head.
His fingers moved with lightening fast reflexes to lock down the feeds for only his access codes. No one was allowed to see her stripping. Not when it was all for him. He knew it. And so did she.
Within minutes he has Augusta off the line, the office locked up, his driver racing across town, and the feed open on his phone. He was rock hard watching her show. He didn't know what she wanted to get out of this little performance, but he had every intention of finding out.
Iris
Was he watching her right then?
Her inner goddess rose within her, basking in the idea of inspiring such obsession. It might be twisted, but that didn't make it less arousing. She couldn't contain the shiver that accompanied the thought of him watching her even when they were apart.
She felt her core flush with heat, the back of her neck heat, and her breaths speed up. He must have been watching her.
Or maybe he had someone else tasked with keeping an eye on her.
She quickly dismissed that thought as quickly as it came. Knew that he would never let anyone spy on her. Other than himself, of course. She knew he wouldn't hesitate to abuse her privacy himself. It was that thought that sent her arousal through the roof.
Obliterating her common sense on its way.
Her eyes scanned the room, settling on a wingback chair tucked away in the corner.
That would work. She moved the chair into the middle of the room.
She positioned it right where she imagined the camera faced and placed her phone on the table in front of her.
The screen was dark but deep, sensual beats of music thrummed out of the speakers.
She wanted to make sure he got a good show.
With a deep breath, she stood back up and then tossed her hair back. For a moment, apprehension threatened to stop her. Was she out of her mind? The powerful crashing waves that were her arousal tossed aside that thought easily enough.
Women sent sexy pictures to their husbands all the time. How was this any different?
It wasn't, she decided. If their husbands also tracked their every movement with cameras in their home, they would do the same thing.
Probably. With the decision made, she locked eyes with the camera and her hands reached down to pull her shirt off.
Inch by inch, she exposed her skin to the camera.
Twisting her hips as she did it. She let the music surround her, losing herself to the sensations.
Her mind wandered back to the day in his office that she reverse stripped for him. She ached, recalling how his eyes burned her skin then. She didn't know where he was right then, but she hoped her distraction affected him half as much as it was her.
She wanted him to be panting, painfully hard, excusing himself from his important meetings. Too distracted to stay there a moment longer. His eyes locked onto the phone screen, his hand gripping himself as soon as he was alone. Desperate to find relief, regretting that he left her all alone.
The thought threw her eyes open.
Regret? Was that what this was all about?
Was she punishing him for leaving her? The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. When she thought she was doing this as a fun and sexy way to tease her husband, it felt freeing. Doing this as a punishment made it feel dirty. Tainted.
She was currently bent over the chair, knees sunk into the cushion, and her ass arched as she let her hair fall down her back after releasing it from her topknot. Her hips swaying as she tempted the camera with sights of delicate folds.
She felt powerful a second before. Sexy. As if she was taking their sex life back into her own hands. But was that really what she was doing? Her eyes cut to her phone.
Dark screen, music flowing uninterrupted. She had no idea if he even cared what she was doing. He probably thought her childish.
He didn't even call her; she thought despondently.
If he was watching her, he didn't care about her little game.
With burning eyes, she lowered one foot to the floor, ready to stand back from the chair.
Maybe he never even saw her and if she could move the chair back, he'd never look at the footage.
Before she got the second foot on the ground, she heard the unmistakable sound of the elevator door opening.
"Put that foot back up right now," his deep growl sent delicious shivers down her spine. Her smile was blinding. He came. He saw her show, and not only did he leave meetings, he rushed there to join her.
"Pleased with yourself, are you?" He grumbled as he strode quickly to stand directly behind her. His hand sunk into her hair and pulled it back. He angled her head to stare up at a vase on the bookshelf across the room. "Pretty thing, isn't it?" He shook her gently when she didn't answer.
"Yes, it is," she gasped, aroused and pleased beyond measure. Her confusion over the vase only adding to it. He leaned down until she could feel his hot breath on her ear.
"Did you think I only had one camera?" he chuckled as her body jerked.
"Hold out your hand," he demanded. When she complied, he placed his phone in it with the screen filled with her naked breasts pushed up over the back of the chair.
They settled on the top of it like a shelf.
Pushing them up and showcasing her hard nipples.
Her flushed face, her hair a mess with his hand buried in it.
He tapped the screen, and the image changed again and he zoomed in so close she could see her dilated pupils.
"I am always watching you," she could feel his words like a deep vibration on her back. "It's the only thing that keeps me sane when I am away from you. Did you think you could stand here and strip this delectable body of yours and I'd leave you all alone?"
His hand tapped the screen one more time and a wide shot of him leaning over her naked body filled the screen. She watched on the screen as that same hand retreated and then dropped to her core. She gasped out as his fingers sunk into her fiery depths.
"That's right, ma fleur," she couldn't tear her eyes away from the satisfied smile on his face.
She'd never seen it before on his face, normally too lost in her own pleasure.
"Your body was made for me." Her breaths came in heavy pants as his hand picked up pace as he played her body like an expert.
Her orgasm crashing down with barely any warning or buildup.
"That might be a record," he murmured triumphantly, and she couldn't muster the energy to be offended.
He was right, after all. "If you ever need to cum, you tell me.
I am never too busy to fill you up." She heard his zipper coming down as she watched him on the screen free himself.
"All you needed to do was ask me, ma fleur. "
He thrust forward harshly, just how she liked. Her hand spasmed with pleasure and his phone fell to the ground with a loud clatter. Neither of them cared. He fell onto her like an animal and she arched back. Matching him thrust for thrust. She wanted him just as bad as she ever did.
Maybe more.
Him watching her, him coming for her, it soothed something broken in her. Quieted the worries that he cared nothing for her now that he married her. When he was inside her, she knew she mattered to him.
With one last sharp twist of her hips backwards, she screamed out as pleasure crashed over her once more. His loud shouts followed right behind her. She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she peered behind her.
"So, did you like your own private show?" She asked wickedly, and his eyes burned back into hers.
"What makes you think it's over?"