My CEO's Blackmail Tape - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
You are reading My CEO's Blackmail Tape, Chapter 8: Chapter 8. Read more chapters of My CEO's Blackmail Tape.
I silenced my phone before the ringtone could escape.
The dim hotel room revealed Nathan Roscente sprawled across the bed in a tangle of limbs—two women claiming his body, one riding his face while the other ground against his hips. His wicked smirk told me he was enjoying every sinful second as they arched against him, their flushed faces twisted in pleasure.
One man. Two women. They were actually—
My pulse pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat. I tried to look away, but the screen held me captive, my traitorous eyes drinking in every detail.
Heat coiled low in my stomach, spreading through me like liquid fire—all heat and no release. The crowded bus around me faded as fantasy took over. I could almost feel it—being either woman, it didn't matter which, as long as I could lose myself in that kind of abandon.
Even with the bus window wide open, my skin burned. The couple making out nearby only made it worse. I was drowning, falling—
Until my phone rang again, jerking me back to reality.
Daniel Evans. Again.
Hadn't he just called? Why now?
Seeing "Husband" flash across the screen made my finger freeze mid-air. After a beat, I swallowed hard and answered.
"Hey sweetheart. Bad news—I'll be stuck here a few more days. Might miss your birthday."
"It's okay," I lied, the words ash in my mouth. "We'll celebrate when you're back."
The weight of disappointment settled in my chest. Daniel had been living out of his suitcase lately, thrilled about his upcoming promotion. But what good was success when our marriage had become a glorified roommate situation?
"You sound off."
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, forcing brightness into my voice. "Just tired. On the bus. Almost home."
He knew me too well. After the usual be-carefuls, the call ended.
As I stepped onto the sidewalk, my phone buzzed—Nathan. My stomach did a traitorous little flip.
His message burned up the screen: I've been watching you. Your elegance drives me insane. I dream about holding you, tasting you, drowning in you.
My face went hot. Against all logic, I smiled, the hollow ache inside momentarily forgotten.
Another vibration: I want to rip your clothes off and fuck you until you forget your own name.
I bit my lip hard enough to hurt, then typed before I could think better of it: Come over. Husband's away.
My thumb hovered over Send, shaking.
Yes or no?
The dim hotel room revealed Nathan Roscente sprawled across the bed in a tangle of limbs—two women claiming his body, one riding his face while the other ground against his hips. His wicked smirk told me he was enjoying every sinful second as they arched against him, their flushed faces twisted in pleasure.
One man. Two women. They were actually—
My pulse pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat. I tried to look away, but the screen held me captive, my traitorous eyes drinking in every detail.
Heat coiled low in my stomach, spreading through me like liquid fire—all heat and no release. The crowded bus around me faded as fantasy took over. I could almost feel it—being either woman, it didn't matter which, as long as I could lose myself in that kind of abandon.
Even with the bus window wide open, my skin burned. The couple making out nearby only made it worse. I was drowning, falling—
Until my phone rang again, jerking me back to reality.
Daniel Evans. Again.
Hadn't he just called? Why now?
Seeing "Husband" flash across the screen made my finger freeze mid-air. After a beat, I swallowed hard and answered.
"Hey sweetheart. Bad news—I'll be stuck here a few more days. Might miss your birthday."
"It's okay," I lied, the words ash in my mouth. "We'll celebrate when you're back."
The weight of disappointment settled in my chest. Daniel had been living out of his suitcase lately, thrilled about his upcoming promotion. But what good was success when our marriage had become a glorified roommate situation?
"You sound off."
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, forcing brightness into my voice. "Just tired. On the bus. Almost home."
He knew me too well. After the usual be-carefuls, the call ended.
As I stepped onto the sidewalk, my phone buzzed—Nathan. My stomach did a traitorous little flip.
His message burned up the screen: I've been watching you. Your elegance drives me insane. I dream about holding you, tasting you, drowning in you.
My face went hot. Against all logic, I smiled, the hollow ache inside momentarily forgotten.
Another vibration: I want to rip your clothes off and fuck you until you forget your own name.
I bit my lip hard enough to hurt, then typed before I could think better of it: Come over. Husband's away.
My thumb hovered over Send, shaking.
Yes or no?
End of My CEO's Blackmail Tape Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to My CEO's Blackmail Tape book page.