Page 89 of Stolen Vows

She meets her own gaze in the mirror, a small, secret smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. What she’s about to do.

Slowly, teasingly, she peels her thin camisole over her head, letting it drop to the floor. Her bare back is to the camera, the smooth expanse of her skin making my mouth go dry. She reaches behind her, unclasping her bra and sliding it down her arms. It joins the camisole on the tile, leaving her naked from the waist up.

My cock throbs, already fully hard again as I watch her. She slides her hands over her stomach, up her ribcage, cupping her breasts. I can’t see her breasts fully, not from this angle, but I can imagine. The way they would fill my hands, soft and supple. The pretty pink of her nipples, begging for my mouth. I groan, palming myself through my sweatpants as I watch her tease her own flesh.

Francesca’s head tips back, her eyes fluttering closed as she pinches and rolls her nipples between her fingers. I can almost hear the breathy little moan that escapes her parted lips. She’s putting on a show for me, and fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My wife, pleasuring herself, knowing I’m watching.

Wanting me to watch.

She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her sleep shorts and panties, slowly dragging them down her legs. She bends at the waist as she steps out of them, giving me a tantalizing view of the curve of her ass. My fingers dig into my thighs as I fight the urge to go to her, to sink my teeth into that plump flesh and make her come again. All over my face this time.

I watch as she steps into the shower, the water cascading over her curves as she faces me through the glass. The steam fogs up the door, blurring her body into a silhouette. But I can still make out the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips.

I grip the armrests of my chair, white-knuckled, as I watch her tilt her head back under the spray. Her hands slide over her body, slick with soap, mapping the valleys and peaks I’m desperate to explore with my tongue.

My cock throbs inside my pants, like I didn’t just come ten minutes ago. I press down on it, a paltry attempt for relief.

She runs her hands through her hair, massaging shampoo into her scalp with languid strokes. Rivulets of water trail down her body, following the curve of her spine, the swell of her ass. I imagine myself behind her, my hands replacing hers as I work the lather through her hair. I’d kiss down the column of her neck, nipping and sucking as my hands roamed her slick skin.

Francesca rinses the shampoo from her hair, tipping her head back under the spray. Her expression is one of pure bliss, lips parted and eyes closed as if lost in sensation. Through the fogged glass, I catch glimpses of her hands gliding over her body, teasing and touching in ways that make my blood run hot.

She works conditioner through the ends of her hair with slow, sensual strokes. Her fingers comb through the long, damp strands before she rinses it out.

“Jesus Christ. Shampoo and conditioner shouldn’t be so fucking hot,” I whisper, leaning toward the center monitor.

Francesca turns to face the camera head-on through the foggy glass, her eyes dark and hooded with desire. She slowly lifts one slender leg, propping her foot up on the built-in bench. The new position opens her to me completely, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she knew exactly where the cameras were.

I zoom in, my breath catching in my throat when she reaches out of frame, grasping something I can’t see. When she pulls her hand back, my eyes widen.

A small, sleek vibrator rests in her palm. Midnight blue and glistening under the shower spray. My mouth goes dry, blood rushing south so fast I feel momentarily lightheaded.

She brings the toy to her lips, closing her eyes as she runs it along the seam of her mouth. Her pink tongue darts out, flicking against the tip in a move that makes my cock jump. She’s teasing me, putting on a show, and goddamn if it isn’t working.

My grip tightens on the arms of my chair as she trails the vibrator down her throat, between her breasts. She circles one tight nipple, biting her bottom lip as she grazes the sensitive bud. I curse under my breath, pressing my palm harder against my straining erection.

My beautiful, brilliant, tease of a wife drags the vibrator lower, pausing with the tip above her clit. Her smirk is downright wicked as her gaze collides with the camera once more.

My cock throbs in my pants, desperation pounding inside my bloodstream.

With deliberate slowness, she lowers the toy, parting her folds and pressing the vibrator against her clit. Her head falls back and her mouth opens on a silent moan as she begins to slowly sink the toy inside her perfect cunt.

I groan, my hand moving to grip my cock through my sweatpants. I’m achingly hard, the fabric damp with cum. Watching Francesca fuck herself on that toy, knowing she’s doing this while I’m watching, it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed.

And it’s also the most jealous I’ve ever been of a battery-operated toy.

Because what the fuck is going on with me that all I can think about is storming into that shower and replacing it with me.

She works the vibrator in and out, her pace quickening as her pleasure builds. Her other hand slides between her legs, finding her clit and rubbing tight circles. Her hips undulate, chasing the sensations, and I can see the way her thighs tremble, the water sluicing down her flushed skin.

“Fuck,” I growl, zooming in even closer.

I palm myself harder through my sweatpants, matching her rhythm, imagining it’s my cock she’s riding, my fingers on her clit. I’m so hard it hurts, my arousal a living thing clawing at my skin, desperate to break free.

I want to be there with her, want to feel her clenching around my cock as she comes undone. Want to lick the water from her skin and swallow every desperate sound falling from her lips. I want to make her come so hard she forgets her own name.

Her movements grow more frantic, her hips rocking faster as she nears her peak. Her free hand braces against the foggy glass of the shower door, leaving a smeared handprint. Her chest heaves, water droplets trailing between her breasts as they bounce with each thrust of the vibrator.

I can’t take my eyes off her. The way her back arches, the flush of arousal staining her skin. The look of pure, unadulterated bliss on her face as she fucks herself, chasing her pleasure with single-minded focus. Knowing I’m watching.

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