She cupped her breasts in both hands, pinching her nipples through the fabric. Click.
“The paparazzi would probably pay nearly a million dollars for these photos,” she said, unhooking her bra and spilling her gorgeous nude flesh for the camera. “But I trust you, William.”
Click. Click. Click. This woman was a natural.
Finally, she pulled the entire dress off and sprawled out on the table, a fucking vixen for my greedy camera. I couldn’t click fast enough.
“How about you put that camera on video mode and fuck me. We can watch later,” she panted, and within seconds, I was pantsless and inside her.
“Oh,” she grunted, feigning surprise at my speed. She gripped my ass as I let my passions out. Cerise knew how to draw out a scene. She knew how to make me work for her. By the time she was usually ready for penetration, I was usually at my breaking point.
I loved it.
My mistress owned me completely.
The tablecloth bunched beneath her as I held her hips and pushed rhythmically. I knew just how fast she liked it, and always kept that pace unless she asked me to slow down or speed up.
“Faster,” she begged, and I knew today was a day where she wanted it rough. So I roughed it up and ground into her deeply.
“More,” she insisted, and I pushed myself to the limit. I knew that any faster or harder might hurt her, so I let myself get as rough as I could without crossing that line. It was working, clearly, because beneath me she spasmed and grunted and came hard.
“Come now,” she ordered, and I was happy to obey as usual.
She sat up and rolled her shoulders, stretching. “I think this may be a role I’d like to reprise, William,” she said, gesturing to the camera. “How was my performance?”
I smiled, and tugged my pants back up. “Your best yet.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Cerise
After I had dressed and showered, I remembered William had mentioned there was a package waiting. I brought it inside and helped myself to a second serving of gelato. We sat down at the table together, chatting about the day’s events, as I peeled back the tape on the brown package and reached inside.
And gasped.
There was a ring box. “William!” I exclaimed, and opened it, revealing a small diamond ring. I dropped it as though it were burning hot.
Then I recognized the diamond and the setting. I had seen this before.
My breath shuddered, and I pulled the other contents out of the box.
Pictures and a letter.
The pictures on top were of me in a bridal gown. William grabbed them, took one look, and grimaced with disgust.
“What haven’t you told me?” he growled helplessly. The fear, sadness, and anger in his voice melted together into a discordant low whine. He was in pain.
He snatched all the contents out of my hands and flipped through the other pictures, and I wanted to cover his eyes. There were pictures of me, naked, dominating another man.
Brent.
Lastly was a note. He slid it across the table.
I took it gingerly, and winced at the pictures. I read the note silently and crumpled it.
“Motherfucker,” I spat.
He folded his arms and spoke. “Oh, so your husband was fucking your mother in those pictures?”