Page 63 of The Devil's Daughter

FormerNavy SEAL, I correct myself. Marco evidently applied for discharge not long after his mother’s illness so he could be there for his family, and his friend also resigned out of solidarity. They’re leavingsomethingout of the conversation, though I’m not sure what. If they’re as capable and dedicated as they sound, I can’t imagine why they’d retire after such a relatively short career. But I sense that Arturo knows something, because he offers more approval than is strictly warranted when he learns this bit of information.

It isn’t until we’re off the call that he elaborates, explaining that there’s currently a covert operation underway to take down the Amador Cartel, and that Marco—and evidently Jake as well—has been recruited as part of the team. Neither are leaving the SEALs entirely; they’re just being reassigned. Either way, I can’t object to having extra muscle present at the gala tomorrow.

I’m not afraid of what will happen—I justreallywant to catch this fucker—but I also can’t just jump him out of the blue. We have to wait untilhemakes a move, and knowing I have a virtual platoon of men on my side gives me all the confidence that we’ll have dealt with him by the end of the night.

As it’s already late, it doesn’t take long for the four of us to run out of steam, so we head down to the lower deck together, and I show Arturo to the third guest cabin in the row next to the twins’ cabins. Each of them retires to their own rooms, and I slip into mine, closing the door behind me.

But when I step fully into the room, the TV is on, even though I’m positive I didn’t leave it on when I left my room hours earlier. That’s when it clicks that I’m viewing Elle’s room, rather than the TV menu, and a second later, two nested rectangles spring to life in the corners, showing me each of the twins’ faces.

Ben’s eyes light up when he catches on to what’s happening. He starts to speak, but Elle puts her index finger to her lips and shakes her head. Low music starts to play in the background, and she begins to dance.

I fucking love this woman even more when her hips start to sway, the pretty blue and white dress she wore flowing around her legs as she turns in front of the camera.

In the corner, I see Ben strip off his shirt and sit back against his pillows to watch. Baz remains seated at the end of his bed, transfixed.

She turns her back to us, dark hair a silken swath across her bare skin. She reaches back and snags the tab of her zipper, pulling it down slowly while she sways to the low, sultry beat. The music player must be close to the TV’s microphone, because I can’t even hear it through the wall. She’s taken so much care to ensure her father is none the wiser, I have to give her props.

When she rotates to face the camera again, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes bright. She tugs at the short sleeves of the dress, letting it slide forward. The bodice folds in front, revealing her full breasts held up by a lacy, strapless bra in deep, dark burgundy. She dances in a circle as she slides the dress down, her back to us when she slips it off and carefully sets it aside.

Watching her like this is the ultimate indulgence. I can’t take my eyes off her, and I’m sure she knows it. Even though she has an audience of three, I feel like this is all for me. But when she pauses and points, mouthing, “Your turn,” I realize she expects us to reciprocate.

Ben is first to comply, and this is the first time I see his own moves when he stands and rocks his hips to her music. He’s wearing nothing but his dress trousers from tonight, though, so it doesn’t take him long to be stark naked, his stiff cock stealing the show when he bumps his hips a couple times for the camera. My mouth waters as I remember what he tasted like, but there will be no touching, no tasting tonight.

Baz hesitates, his gaze darting to a corner of the screen where my picture must be on his TV. I just grin, because it amuses me that he’s put off by my presence. Elle pouts and makes a “come on” motion.

Baz relents and stands. His dance is slower, more seductive, but the man has moves as smooth as his brother. I can’t deny I’m aroused watching him, but my gaze keeps drifting to Elle, then to Ben, more curious about them than the twin doing the striptease in spite of my presence.

I’m not as skilled or smooth a dancer as either of them are, so when it’s my turn I resort to moves I picked up watchingMagic Mike, using a water bottle as a prop. Elle’s delighted smile urges me on, and Ben and Baz are both laughing by the time I stop—Ben probably more entertained than his brother.

The whole affair is ridiculously liberating and fun, but then it’s Elle’s turn again, and I forget everything else. She undulates like a professional dancer, slipping out of her bra with an easy flow that feels like part of a choreographed routine, then she turns her back to the camera and slips her fingers beneath the thin, lacy band of her panties.

It isn’t until they’re partway down her luscious ass that I register the outline of the plug, the shining steel glinting as she bends over to push her panties down her thighs. I let out a low, involuntary groan, glancing away only long enough to see the twins’ reactions. Ben’s chin is practically on the floor, and Baz is glued to the screen with a feral smile that’s almost frightening in its raw hunger.

I briefly worry for Elle’s ass when we finally get to be alone with her again. But then she peeks over her shoulder with a coy look, makes an “O” with her mouth in mock surprise, and reaches back, grasping the end of the plug.

“You’re fucking killing me,” I murmur, shaking my head and wrapping my hand around my dick for the first time. They can all see me touch myself, but when I look at the other two men, I realize I’m not alone. At least we’re in this together.

She bends over slightly, pulls the plug out a little, then pushes it back in. Her mouth opens a little wider on a gasp that appears genuine. I want more, though, and as if reading my mind, she climbs onto the bed on all fours, her ass facing the camera. She spreads her thighs and gives us a perfect view of her glistening snatch, the round end of the plug poised like the moon over a luscious valley. Her bare, pink lips are coated in moisture, and she reaches between her thighs, briefly stroking her fingers through the slickness.

I can almost taste her through the screen. I could walk right in right now and bury myself inside her—she’sthat close. But neither of the twins are daring to move, and neither will I. I just squeeze my dick a little harder, hoping I can hold out long enough to watch the entire show.

She reaches to the side and then produces a bottle of lube, which she twists back to squeeze just around the base of the plug. Then she pulls it out fully, rubs the toy around her rear hole to distribute the lube, and pushes it slowly back in.

In his tiny rectangle, Ben flops back onto the bed, hands over his face, his cock ramrod stiff. When he sits up, I read his lips mouthing, “I fucking love you.”

I feel the same, and Baz nods as well.

That’s when she produces another toy. It’s a glass dildo only slightly smaller than my dick, with a bulbous tip and little round bumps around one end. Bracing one hand on the bed, she places it at her slick opening just beneath the plug and slowly works it into her pink little snatch. She moves it like she knows what she’s doing, and now I understand why she didn’t have more trouble climbing on Ben’s cock the other night. She’s clearly very familiar with her toy, given the way she fucks herself with it.

Ihaveto stroke myself, so I grip my dick and squeeze, giving myself a long, solid pump while I watch her violate her perfect pussy with the glass dildo. Ben and Baz are equally lost, both of them fisting their own dicks and pumping them slowly, as if they don’t want to go off too fast either.

The guys have both muted their sound, but Elle’s is still on, though the volume is low. Her music is soft, but just loud enough to cover her moans, yet occasionally she lets out a soft sound that I can hear over the music. It’s enough to make my head spin, knowing how hard she’s trying to keep things quiet, yet still give us a proper show. I can’t hear her through the walls, which means there’s no way anyone else can hear her.

“Let me hear you moan, baby,” I mutter to myself, gripping my balls and pulling on them, then speeding up my strokes. “Let me hear you come.”

It’s the biggest wet dream of a cam-girl show I’ve ever seen. Even the dirtiest ones I watched were never this perfect, probably because despite appearances, I don’t think most of those girls were ever as into it as Elle is. They did it for money more than pleasure, even though they were willing performers.

Elle is doing this forusas much as for herself.

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