Stop watching us.
A reply comes almost instantly.
Grey
Not happening.
Ugh.
But maybe it’s good to give them a taste of their own medicine.
With consent, of course.
I tilt my head, raising an eyebrow at Oliver, trying to gauge his reaction. “You’re okay with them watching?”
His brow furrows in confusion, his lips parting. “Watching what?”
A thrill of excitement shoots through me, realizing he hasn’t caught on yet. I lean in closer, lowering my voice to a husky whisper. “I want you to touch yourself for me.”
The effect is immediate. His eyes widen in shock, his pupils dilating as the realization hits him. His face, already tinged with a hint of nervousness, flushes a deep crimson, and I can practically feel heat radiating from him as his ears turn almost fire-engine red.
“Fuck, I… you really want that?” His voice is strained, caught somewhere between disbelief and desire.
“I do,” I confirm, unable to stop the smirk pulling at my lips. “Do you mind if they keep watching the cameras?”
I hold up my phone, ready to dig into Grey if needed.
Because I want this.
I need this.
We have to rectify this imbalance. If we both see each other touch ourselves, there will be nothing to be ashamed of anymore.
Oliver hesitates, his eyes flickering to the phone in my hand, then back to me. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the way his mind races to process what I’m asking of him. There’s a flicker of uncertainty, but beneath it, there’s something else, something raw and primal tugging at my own desires.
His breath hitches, and then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he nods. “I don’t know why they would want to watch that, but it seems only fair.”
Smiling, I send one last text.
Enjoy the show then.
I put the phone down, and Oliver’s breath hitches once more. The excitement in his eyes is at war with his obvious nerves. He slowly leans back against the cushions, his hands moving to the waistband of his pants.
“Are you sure?” he asks one last time on a whisper.
“I’m sure. Touch yourself the way you want me to touch you.”
He breathes out a shaky laugh when I throw his words from that night back at him before he slips his hand beneath the fabric, his eyes never leaving mine. The vulnerability and trust in his expression make my heart swell with affection. His movements are tentative at first, but the longer I watch, the bolder he becomes.
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” I whisper.
“Too much.”
I reach out and touch him too, my hand cupping his firm length through his pants. He gasps at the contact. “Fuck,” he groans out, his hips bucking up as he closes his eyes for a moment, his breathing growing heavier. “Amelia,” he moans softly, the sound of my name on his lips sending a shiver down my spine.
“Don’t close your eyes,” I whisper. “I want you to look at me.”
He looks into my eyes, and I slowly slide down to my knees in front of him and reach for the waistband of his pants. “Can I?” He just nods, so I pull them down to his thighs along with his underwear, revealing his hard cock in his hand. It’s thick and long, and I can’t help but stare in awe for a moment.
