And then I remember the cameras.
There are more in Waylon’s place than in mine. Here there are even cameras in the bedroom.
Waylon is paranoid, and his one fetish is watching us fuck over and over. There is even a mirror on the ceiling so he can have a better view.
Where there are cameras, there is Langston. I know he’s tapped into the security feed. I know he’s watching, which makes this all the more fun.
Langston thinks he can demand I repay my debt to him by giving him my body. I’ll show him exactly what he’s missing, exactly what he’ll never have.
“Kneel,” I say.
Waylon looks up at me excitedly. He may like ordering people around in the boardroom, but here, he likes me bossing him.
I look up at the camera in the entryway corner.
I reach around my back and unzip my dress. Then I let the straps fall off my shoulders, before wiggling my hips as I push the dress to a
pile on the floor.
I’m wearing nothing but heels and black lacy lingerie—bra, thong, and garter.
“Lick me. Make me come.”
Waylon’s eyes brighten. He loves making me come, but this isn’t for him. This is for Langston, to show him what he will never taste. What he will never have.
Waylon’s hands slide up the length of my long legs, and I focus on his touch instead of staring into the camera. Langston already knows that I know he’s watching. Now to revel in the feeling of ecstasy as Waylon worships my body in a way that Langston never will.
His fingers hook into the bands of my thong, and he carefully slides it down my body, his brooding eyes locked on his prize as he drops my panties to the floor in a pile on top of my dress.
He licks his lips like he’s about to devour his favorite food. Waylon is a lot of things; he has a lot of traits I like about him. But this might be what I like the most.
“Waylon, lick me,” I command, my voice raspy in anticipation of him eating me out.
He grins at the desperation in my voice and then does as I order. His arms wrap around my hips as his tongue licks the length of my slit, tasting the sweetness of my arousal. He moans, sending vibrations through my body.
My body shudders, and I grab onto his head for support as he licks over me. Tasting, teasing until he’s making me pant at a pace that rivals any exercise routine I’ve ever had.
“You taste so fucking good. I can’t believe I’m the one who gets to taste you. The only one.”
I grin as my hands sink deeper into his hair, gripping him so fucking hard that I should be afraid I’m going to rip his hair out. I’m not, though; Waylon can take it.
I do let my eyes roll up to the camera at Waylon’s words. You hear that, Langston? Waylon’s the only one who gets to taste me like this.
And then, he’s pushing his fingers inside me. He’s not gentle, but not rough enough to spark nightmares of my past. It’s just enough to make my body explode in a rolling orgasm that is just the start of my night.
“Yes!” I scream, not using his name yet. After all, I’m the woman in control here. One orgasm isn’t enough for him to earn hearing me call out his name. Not yet.
Waylon removes his fingers after I’ve come down from my orgasm. Then he licks his fingers, savoring every drop of my cum on his fingers.
“Stand and go to the bedroom. Undress and get ready to fuck my brains out.”
Waylon stands and gives me the softest of kisses on the lips, reminding me, as if I could forget, how incredible his kisses are. Promising me that he’s going to fuck me better than any fantasy I could ever imagine.
Waylon is breathtakingly sexy as he walks to our bedroom while still wearing a tux and my cum on his lips.
This is the life I always imagined but never thought I could get.
When Waylon is gone, I walk to the fridge, still wearing my heels, bra, and garter.