Read Novel Full Chapter 614: Calling Victor
Chapter 614: Calling Victor
She gasped, her back arching, her lips parting as her nipple hardened further under my touch.
"I’ll buy them for you," I growled, my fingers kneading her breast, my other hand sliding around her waist, pulling her flush against me. "The finest one."
My lips brushed her ear, my breath hot. My thumb and forefinger pinched her nipple, twisting just enough to make her whimper.
Emily’s dark eyes flared, her cheeks flushing as she swallowed hard, her fingers digging into my jacket. For a heartbeat, I thought she might slap me.
Then— She grinned.
A slow, dangerous curve of her crimson lips, her tongue darting out to wet them.
"Mmm..." She purred, her hand sliding down to grab mine, her fingers lacing with mine possessively. "Then let’s go shopping, Jack... Since you’re so generous."
The boutique’s air was thick with the scent of bergamot and sin, the gold-trimmed mirrors reflecting Emily’s smirk like a knife’s edge.
She sauntered between the racks, her hips swaying with the deliberate rhythm of a woman who knew exactly how much power she held in the arch of her back, the drag of her fingers over delicate fabrics.
"So, Jack..." She plucked a black lace bra from the rack, the cups so sheer they were almost invisible, the embroidered floral patterns designed to frame rather than cover. The underwire was thin as a whisper, the straps no wider than dental floss.
"What do you think?" She held it up against her chest, the dark lace contrasting obscenely with the pale silk of her ruined dress. "Will my husband like it?"
Before I could answer, she dropped it and moved on, her fingers trailing over a crimson satin corset, the boning stiff, the laces designed to cinch her waist into something obscene
"Or maybe he’ll prefer something with... more structure. Tell me your opinion, you both are men, so help me choose?" Her eyes flicked to mine, challenging.
I didn’t speak. I just watched as she glided toward the panties, where rows of silk and sin hung like trophies. Her fingers danced over a fishnet thong, the diamond-patterned mesh so delicate it would tear with a single hard pull.
"Or perhaps..." She lifted a crotchless lace number, the black fabric barely there, the open gusset a blatant invitation. "...you like easy access?"
Her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip, as she pressed the scandalous scrap of lace against her hip, posing like a fucking goddess.
She took a bunch of panties and bras and went to the changing room, asking me to come with her. Then she kept putting those panties and bra on top of her clothes asking me about opinion.
"Which would look better...?" she asked, pressing her phone into my hands with a smirk. "Take a photo of me holding these, and I’ll send it to my husband."
Emily’s mind raced: [I’ve heard pretty boys like him have a thing for MILFs... He’ll be seething with jealousy—and when the time comes, he’ll fuck me like he means it. Hee hee.]
I bit back a laugh, imagining a far more direct way to stoke his envy—like sending her husband photos of my cock buried inside his wife. Now that would get his attention.
I stepped even closer, my hand sliding up to cup her breast, my thumb rolling over her nipple through the damp silk. "Oh, Emily..." I murmured, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, my breath hot.
"If you really want his opinion..." My voice was a low rasp, fingers brushing hers as I took the phone. The screen lit up under my thumb, the camera lens flaring to life like a challenge. "...why not call him and ask?" I tilted the device just enough to catch the way her thighs pressed together, the lace in her grip trembling.
Emily’s breath hitched—not just a gasp, but a sound, wet and needy, like she’d been caught mid-moan. The air between us thickened with the scent of her: bergamot and salt, the musk of arousal clinging to the damp fabric of her dress where it clung to her nipples, stiff as accusations. Her free hand flew to her collarbone, as if she could press back the flush crawling up her throat.
"Th-that’s—" Her voice cracked. The lace snapped taut between her fingers, the delicate fabric no match for the way her body betrayed her. A bead of sweat slid between her breasts, disappearing into the valley like a secret. "He’ll—"
The phone was a weight in my palm, a threat and a promise. "What is his phone number?"
Emily’s lips parted. Her mind raced, a whirlwind of what-ifs and oh gods— [Is that jealousy darkening his voice when he answers, or is it excitement? Does he even care, or am I just another game to him? What if he hears how wet I am?]
She swallowed, her throat working. "It’s..." A flicker of defiance lit her eyes, but her body was already surrendering, arching into the space between us like a cat seeking heat. "Saved as ’Dear.’"
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just let the silence stretch, let her imagine what came next—the dial tone, the way his voice might roughen when he realized it wasn’t just her on the line.
The way his cock would twitch, trapped in his work slacks, when he heard her real moans. Not the performative ones she gave him, but the raw, desperate sounds she saved for men who knew how to ruin her.
I angled the phone, capturing her—Emily Rain, cheeks flushed, lips parted, holding up the crotchless panties like a fucking dare. The gold lights of the boutique glinted off the black lace, making it look like it was already wrapped around her thighs.
"Smile, Emily," I growled, my free hand sliding up to cup her breast, my thumb rolling over her nipple through the damp silk. "I am calling your husband."
Emily’s eyes darkened, her thoughts a whirlwind of lust and vengeance:
[Oh, fuck. He’s serious.]
[He’s actually going to do it.]
[Victor’s going to lose his mind if he knows.]
She bit her lip, her body arching into my touch, her voice a whisper:
"You’re playing with fire..."
I chuckled, my fingers tightening on her breast, my thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple just hard enough to make her gasp.