Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 317

Chapter 317

“Fine, Felix.” I picked up my phone, scrolling to Dominic’s contact. “I will make a call right now to find out what your precious Seraphine is up to. And then we will be finished here.”

Dominic answered on the second ring, his voice warm and unhurried. “Celeste. I was just thinking about you.”

“I am so sorry that I have to bother you with something so ridiculous, but I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Ask. I would do anything for you. You know that.”

I felt a blush creep up my cheek. “I need to know what Seraphine is doing right now. Is it possible for you to ge me live footage of whatever she is up to at this very moment?”

There was a pause, not hesitation. He was calculating, running through possibilities and resources in that magnificent mind of his. “Give me a few minutes. I will make it possible.”

The line went dead afterward. Across the desk, Felix stood frozen, his eyes fixed on my phone as though it were a grenade with the pin already pulled.

Three minutes passed. Elise shifted her weight. The security men remained motionless. I studied my cuticles and waited.

When Dominic called back, his voice carried the quiet satisfaction of a man who had just moved mountains and was pretending it had been no more difficult than ordering coffee. “I have sent a link to your phone. Once you click it, you will see a live video feed of exactly what Seraphine is doing.”

“Thank you, Dominic.”

“Anything for you. Call me when you are done. I want to hear your voice again before my next meeting.”

I smiled, just as the call ended. Then, I forwarded the link to Felix. “There. Check for your precious Seraphine in the live footage.”

He clicked the link with the desperate urgency of a drowning man reaching for a life preserver. I clicked it too on my phone, and what I saw made my breath catch in my throat.

The video feed showed a large room bathed in flickering colored lights, the kind of sultry illumination that belonged in high-end strip clubs. The camera angle was slightly elevated, looking down at a semicircle of cushions arranged around a central stage area, and on those cushions sat six men, their ages ranging from late thirties to mid-fifties, their faces flushed with drink and arousal.

Their pants and briefs were pulled down around their ankles, and their cocks were free, thick and hard and glistening at the tips, each man stroking himself with the unhurried rhythm of someone who knew the main event was still to come.

In the center of that semicircle, moving with the liquid, hypnotic grace of a woman who knew exactly how many eyes were on her body and exactly how much power that gave her, was Seraphine.

She was dressed like a wild bunny in white and brown, except dressed was a generous word. Her butt cheeks were completely exposed, the plush curves of her ass bare and gleaming under the lights, separated by a thin strip of brown fabric that disappeared between her cheeks.

Her upper body was entirely naked, her breasts full and high and swaying with every movement, her nipples dark and erect and catching the light as she turned. She was touching herself, her hands gliding over her own skin with practiced sensuality, cupping her breasts and lifting them, her fingers pinching her nipples until they stood out stiff and swollen.

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She bit her lower lip and rolled her hips in a slow, circular motion that made the men on the cushions groan audibly, their hands moving faster on their cocks.

Wads of cash flew through the air, hundred-dollar bills raining down around her feet, and Seraphine’s face was alight with pure, uncomplicated joy, the kind of happiness that came from being showered with money and adoration in equal measure.

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