Her Deviant Husband | [✓]

Chapter 35 (M)

Mature content: Not sex though

Athira's pov.

My gaze shifted suddenly, narrowing as I turned toward the hidden camera. A rush of heat prickled my skin, but it wasn't embarrassment.

No, it was something darker, something deliciously sinister.

I took a slow step closer, my movements deliberate and measured, feeling the power of his unseen stare.

I could almost hear Reyansh's breathing hitch on the other end.

Good. Let him squirm.

"Are you watching, Reyansh?" I asked, my voice low, dangerously soft.

The words tasted like a challenge on my tongue. I didn't need to see his face to know the effect it had. A part of me delighted in it—relishing how someone like him, so unfeeling and untouchable, would now be so completely in my hands.

A smirk curled my lips, and without thinking, I raised my hand, middle finger extended toward the camera. The gesture felt both liberating and taunting.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," I said, savoring the venom in my tone.

I stepped even closer, fingers brushing against the cold, impersonal lens. I knew he could see everything—my eyes, my expression, the defiance radiating from every inch of my being.

Leaning in, I let my face fill the camera's view, close enough that I could imagine him leaning toward the screen, desperate for any movement, any clue as to what I'd do next.

"Watch all you want," I whispered, my voice dripping with absolute indifference. "Because that's all you'll ever get, Reyansh. Watching. Wanting. But never having."

The words echoed in the silence of the room, and I felt a strange satisfaction knowing they would hit him harder than any slap ever could.

I stepped back, letting the tension hang in the air as I reached for the tie of my robe. My fingers toyed with the delicate knot, tugging it loose just enough to let the fabric gape open slightly. The sheer material shifted, revealing the faintest glimpse of white lace beneath.

Let him look. Let him burn.

A thrill coursed through me as I imagined him sitting there, frozen, unable to tear his eyes away. He had put me in this position, made me aware of his invasive gaze. Now, I would make sure he felt every ounce of the torment he'd intended for me.

I tilted my head, running my fingers through my hair as the robe slipped down my shoulders, the cool air brushing against my skin. Slowly, deliberately, I turned, letting him see the bare expanse of my back. The lace clung to me, revealing just enough to keep him on edge.

"Enjoying the show, Reyansh?" I murmured, the venom in my voice tempered with a mocking sweetness.

The power in this moment was intoxicating. For the first time, I wasn't the prey. I wasn't the one being watched, violated. I was in control, and he was the one trapped in my performance, unable to look away.

I walked toward the bed, hips swaying in a rhythm that felt natural, yet maddeningly calculated. The robe slid off completely, pooling at my feet in a deliberate show of indifference. I paused, glancing over my shoulder, locking eyes with the camera.

Let this haunt you, Reyansh. Let this drive you insane.

With a wicked smile, I raised a hand, brushing my fingers over the strap of my bra. I lingered there, letting the anticipation build, before abruptly turning my back to the camera.