Incest Mom tricked by Bully (Mask of Desire)

[Steel]

She angled her phone, snapped it, legs parted slightly, a faint wet spot glaring, and sent it, heart slamming. She put the skirt down fast, cheeks burning, she tried to focus on the meeting.

Ishaan opened it, a low groan escaping.

Her legs, the lace, that wetness, "Fuck. She's damp, in a damn meeting," he whispered.

His dick twitched, hard instantly, jeans unzipping.

He propped his phone, aiming below his waist, stroking slow over her pic, veins bulging, precum glistening. He recorded, hand moving, rough breaths, then sent it.

"Waiting for your video call tonight, babe, don't worry, no need to show your face. But look what you're doing to me," he added, smug.

Madhuri's phone buzzed. She stole a glance, his video hit her: his hand on his cock, stroking to her pic. Her thighs clenched with head flooding in and her thoughts spiraled.

Numbers, charts, her boss's voice turned useless. He alone was in her head, unraveling her.