Aria was currently wearing a groove into the plush carpet of the master bedroom.
She was still naked, pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed with manic energy, aggressively gnawing her thumbnail down to the quick.
’What if he was presenting?!’ Aria internally scread, her chest tight with panic. ’What if his phone was connected to the Bluetooth projector? What if his entire executive board of directors just saw my bare ass in 4K resolution on a massive hundred-inch screen?!’
She was dying of sha. She wanted the floorboards to open up and swallow her whole. And to make matters worse, she didn’t even like the video! In hindsight, the poses felt stiff, the lighting was too bright, and she was bloated from PMS.
"I am faking my own death," Aria muttered, pacing faster. "For real this ti."
Suddenly, the cheerful, upbeat chi of a FaceTi request echoed from the iPhone sitting on the duvet.
Aria’s heart dropped directly into her stomach.
She froze, staring at the glowing screen. The contact na My darling hubby flashed brightly.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t look him in the eye. She imagined him furious, or worse, completely disappointed in her for acting like a chaotic, horny teenager while he was trying to run an empire.
Aria lunged forward and hit the red Decline button.
She backed away, panting slightly.
Three seconds later, the phone rang again.
"No, no, no," Aria whimpered, hitting Decline a second ti.
It rang a third ti.
She smashed the Decline button again, her hands shaking.
The ringing stopped. But an instant later, a text ssage popped onto the lock screen.
[My darling hubby: Stop declining my calls. Answer the phone, Aria.]
Aria let out a miserable, pathetic whine. She grabbed the massive, heavy silk duvet off the bed and aggressively wrapped it around her naked body, cocooning herself until only her face and hands were visible.
She sat on the edge of the mattress, took a deep, shaky breath to prepare for the scolding of a lifeti, and tapped the FaceTi icon.
The call connected.
The mont Damien’s face appeared on the screen, Aria completely word-vomited.
"Damien, I am so, so sorry!" Aria babbled frantically, her face burning a violent shade of crimson. "I swear to God it was an accident! I ant to send a picture later tonight when you were completely alone! Please, please tell you weren’t screen-mirroring to a projector! If your entire board saw my nipples, I am literally going to walk into the ocean!"
"Aria. Breathe."
Damien’s voice cut through her hysterical rambling.
It was a low rasp that sent an imdiate, violent shiver straight down her spine.
Aria stopped talking. She looked at the screen.
Damien was staring back at her. A dark, wicked smirk played on his lips.
Aria blinked, her jaw dropping slightly. "You... you aren’t mad?"
"Mad?" Damien breathed, his eyes dragging over her flushed face. "No, but..."
Damien slowly tilted the cara downward.
The angle shifted from his face to his lap. He was sitting in a leather boardroom chair. Aria could see the sharp, tailored cut of his dark suit pants, completely ruined by the aggressive bulge straining against the zipper.
"...look at this," Damien commanded softly.
He reached down with his free hand. He gripped the tab of his zipper and pulled it down. The sound of the tal teeth parting echoed clearly through the phone’s speaker.
He pushed the expensive wool and his boxer briefs aside.
His cock sprang free instantly. It was thick and rock-hard, a deep, flushed red that pulsed visibly on the screen. It was perfectly upright, completely unyielding.
Aria’s breath hitched, the saliva drying in her throat as a sharp, heavy spike of arousal slamd directly into her core.
Damien angled the cara perfectly, showing off his ruined state, before panning back up to his face. His eyes were burning with raw, possessive dominance.
"Take responsibility for this, Aria," he ordered smoothly.
Aria swallowed hard, her pulse racing. The urge to submit to that tone was overwhelming, but the sheer absurdity of the setting made her hesitate.
"Are... are you in your office?" Aria stuttered, her eyes darting nervously around her own empty bedroom as if soone might jump out. "Damien, what if soone walks in?"
"I’m in one of the executive boardrooms," Damien assured her, his voice perfectly steady. "The doors are locked from the inside. The walls are soundproof, and the periter is privacy glass. No one can see in. No one is coming in. We are completely alone."
He shifted his weight, adjusting the angle of his phone.
"Take the blanket off, Aria," he coaxed. "I want to see my wife."
Aria bit her lower lip, her heart hamring a frantic rhythm.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice almost inaudible.
She shifted on the mattress, propping her phone securely against the pillows so the front-facing cara captured her perfectly.
Slowly, she let the heavy silk duvet fall away from her shoulders. It pooled around her waist, and then she kicked it entirely off the edge of the bed.
She sat completely naked in the center of the mattress. Her skin was flushed, still glowing from her extensive moisturizing routine. She kept her knees pulled together tightly, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.
She took a long, shaky breath, her chest rising and falling heavily.
Slowly, deliberately, she let her knees fall open, spreading her thighs wide for the cara.
Damien let out a harsh, ragged groan on the other end of the line.
"God," Damien swore, his voice thick with unadulterated reverence as his eyes devoured the screen.
Aria looked at the screen. The angle he was holding the phone gave her a clear, unobstructed view of his lap. A slick drop of pre-cum pearled at the tip of his cock, glistening under the harsh boardroom lights.
Aria’s hands hovered awkwardly over her own thighs. She was dripping wet, her core aching with an empty, throbbing heat, but she was suddenly entirely unsure of what to do with her hands. She had never done anything like this before.
Damien caught her hesitation imdiately.
"Do you want to guide you?" he asked, his voice dropping into a low, commanding purr.
Aria nodded, her eyes wide and trusting. "Yes, please."
Damien reached across the polished mahogany surface of the boardroom table. He grabbed a handful of thick, white paper hand towels from a decorative dispenser, setting them in his lap.
He wrapped his large hand firmly around the base of his cock, adjusting his grip.
"Start with your breasts," Damien ordered, his golden eyes locking onto hers through the screen, dark and hungry. "Squeeze them for ."
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