JASON
The rain gods were punishing me.
They selected tonight to be ruthless. It wasn’t the warm, passing rain of a tropical evening that arrived quickly and left quickly and made everything smell like wet earth and flowers. This poured down in sheets, driven sideways by a wind that had decided the security camera I was trying to mount on Camila’s back window was its personal enemy.
I repositioned the flashlight on the window ledge for the third time and kept working.
I could have done this tomorrow. The rational argument for that was obvious. But tomorrow was a variable. Tomorrow, Scarlett could already be on the island. Tomorrow, Pablo Moreno could have found this street. I had learned a long time ago that the thing you put off until tomorrow was the thing that came for you tonight.
So I was on a window ledge in a tropical storm, waterproof jacket soaked through, fingers working around the mounting bracket of a security camera by flashlight, and I was not thinking about tomorrow.
I was thinking about the perimeter, and the gap between the side gate and the garden wall that needed a motion sensor. I pressed the camera into its bracket and heard the click of it seating properly.
I was on the ledge of Camila’s living room window. The room was dark. Camila was probably upstairs in the cozy security of her bedroom. And I would make sure she always felt secure.
The light in the living room came on.
I kept working. I wasn’t watching. I had made a decision not to watch. She was in her house, safe, and my job was the perimeter, and that was the extent of it.
Then I looked up.
Camila was at the window.
She was watching me with absolutely no sympathy — just the clean, direct anger she’d had for me all day, steady and undiminished. She was wearing a black, lacy nightgown that fell onto her upper thigh. It was sheer, and I could see her beautiful boobs straight through them. She had a black coverup on top, but it was even more sheer than the nightgown and was completely useless in covering up anything.
Then she turned, and I understood she knew I was watching.
Camila’s every move came deliberate, as if she was teasing me. She wanted me to watch. She wanted me to see everything. She walked towards the kitchen window.
Her hair was down in beautiful, wild waves that in the lamplight looked darker, fuller, falling past her shoulders.
But what caught my attention the most was the nightgown. That skimpy, see-through, lacy nightgown. I’d seen it somewhere before.
And then I remembered.
That night when I was instructed by Scarlet to be the masked intruder and viciously fuck her.
Oh god.
That night, Scarlet was wearing an almost identical nightgown.
And Camila had seen the video. I don’t know when Scarlett had reached out to her, but she had, and she had shown Camila the entire thing.
Camila saw me fuck another woman just an hour after we had made love in the Jaccuzzi. Her entire world must have come crashing down with that video. And she was punishing me for it now. I cannot imagine Camila’s disgust and humiliation when saw every detail of me fucking Scarlett that night — tying her up, bounding her, gagging her, and then pounding into her.
I winced and closed my eyes. Oh god, what did I do?
If you insist on being here, I will make absolutely sure it’s not comfortable for you.
And that’s what Camila was doing, starting with wearing an identical nightgown. But she didn’t know that I would take any form of punishment, any form of humiliation from her, all with a smile. As long as I could keep her safe.
When I opened my eyes, Camila had opened every single curtain in the room, allowing me a full view. She walked to the couch and looked at me. Her eyes dug on me, taunting, savage, unforgiving. She slowly, deliberately slipped off her cover-up.
Her skimpy nightgown only covered her ass now, I could see every inch, every curve, every mound of her body. Her nipples showed through, and I felt a tingle in between my legs. She lifted one leg onto the cushion in a slow, unhurried movement, and I could see her hot pink thongs. I was losing my mind. My cock was rock solid, and I didn’t know what to do. The only thing I wanted was to feel those soft breasts under my palms. I wanted to rip off those thongs and make wild love to her.
Camila knew. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.
She picked up a bottle from the side table. It was oil.
