Page 7 of Hidden While In Sight

Her head fell, hanging below her shoulders as her fingers dug into the carpet. Then she lifted it, staring right into the camera.

No, Diego reminded himself. She didn’t know the camera was there. Hannah was staring into her vanity mirror. The slight tension in her face smoothed as she saw her reflection. She was too far away for him to see the green flecks in her eyes.

Ashford’s dress shirt hung loose under his open jacket when he reached down, fisting his hand in Hannah’s hair to pull her head up, turning her face awkwardly so she’d look at him. “Is this what you wanted, Hannah? You wanted my attention?” He held her too tightly for her to move her head, and he studied her face. “So fucking calm. Well, you have my attention now.” He released her with a shove. “Pull up your dress.”

Hannah’s hands were awkward as she gathered the material.

“Underwear off,” Ashford ordered.

She must not have worn the crotchless ones tonight, Diego thought, hating that he wanted to see her in them.

Hannah didn’t say a word as she obeyed.

The sound of a woman crying rose in Diego’s memory. There was no way he was going to watch Ashford rape his wife, and that’s what this was looking like. But what was Diego going to do? Run over there like a hero and murder her husband? Diego wasn’t anyone’s hero. He was a fucked-up asshole with mommy issues from a mother he didn’t even remember. She’d been dead before his memories were clear enough to remember her.

Diego continued to stare at Hannah’s face, unable to look away. There was no fear in her expression, just that stiff blankness as she stared into the mirror and waited, her ass in the air behind her.

Ashford kneeled near her. “You brought this on yourself, Hannah. Between the party and staring at that asshole’s tattoos in our driveway.”

Diego’s mouth went dry.

“Take your punishment, you ugly slut.” Ashford pulled his hand back and shot it forward, the slap of his palm against her ass loud, and followed quickly by another.

A spanking? Diego studied the scene again. He’d watched couples enjoy spanking before, though it usually had a playful edge. Ashford’s face was fucking toxic with how satisfied he looked.

And Hannah continued to look in the mirror at what was happening, that blank tightness on her face. The sag in her damaged lip looked even more pronounced compared to the tightness in the rest of her mouth.

“Not going to moan for me tonight?” Ashford asked, grunting with the effort he put into his next smack. “Don’t even play, Hannah. You like me to be rough with you. Attention-seeking whore, you asked for this.” His next motion was hard enough to push her forward.

Diego normally got off on being a voyeur. He loved to watch a woman’s face while she orgasmed. He loved when they didn’t know he was a witness to their bedroom antics. It made him feel powerful, and that often got him hard even if the fucking itself wasn’t to his tastes.

Watching Ashford punish his wife didn’t get him hard.

Maybe it was her face. There wasn’t any satisfaction there. If being spanked was something she enjoyed, like Ashford claimed, then she wasn’t showing it. But she wasn’t flinching either. There was no fear or hate or frustration visible to tell him she hated it.

Watching her was fucking confusing, and Diego was glad when her face dipped on her neck, pressing to the carpet.

When Ashford finally finished, he rose to his feet, shrugging off his jacket and shirt together.

Diego stared at her slumped body. Was that a tremor he detected?

Then the camera went dark. Diego blinked, rewinding in his mind. He’d been so focused on Hannah that he had missed Ashford tossing his jacket over the vanity mirror.

“No controlling your expression, Hannah.” The pull of a zipper followed the voice through the feed. “I’m going to fuck you into the carpet, just like you wanted, and you’re going to show me you’re enjoying it.”

It was Ashford’s voice filling the speakers as he groaned, likely because he’d sunk his cock into his wife. The lighter slapping of flesh from them fucking only reminded Diego of the spanking from before.

“Your ass is so fucking red,” Ashford said around grunts. He’d worked himself up if the rapid grunts were anything to go by. “It hurts so good, doesn’t it? Moan for me.”

His noises were the only ones that filled the speakers—that, and the slap of flesh.

Diego sank into the chair in front of the desk. Ashford’s sounds did nothing for him, but his ears strained, listening for a moan or a gasp, anything that would let him know whether this was rough fucking she got off on or entitled rape by a prick who deserved to die.

She didn’t make a sound, and it wasn’t like Diego could check how wet her cunt was for himself. Not from a house away. Not with her husband still buried inside her.

And what did Diego even care if she was a cold bitch doing her marital duties?

Even as he thought it, he knew it was bullshit. Marriage shouldn’t mean forced sex. But how did Hannah see it?

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