Her hips swayed with deliberate seduction, grinding her plump ass against Minato's already hardened cock. She could feel the thick bulge straining against his pants, pulsing with a primal need to be unleashed, to claim her entirely—right there, in front of her husband. The thought of being taken so brazenly, her body exposed and ravished while Fugaku watched, sent electric chills racing down her spine.
Her skin tingled with forbidden excitement, her breath hitching as she reveled in the power she now wielded.
Minato's hands, warm and commanding, slid to her bare waist, his fingers tracing the smooth curve of her skin. His touch was possessive, igniting a fire deep within her core. She arched into him, her movements slow and teasing, savoring the way his grip tightened, as if he couldn't get enough of her.
"Mmh… what are you gonna do to me?" she purred, her voice low and sultry, dripping with provocation. Her hips continued their torturous dance, pressing harder against him, feeling the heat of his desire grow with every grind.
Minato leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear, sending shivers through her. "I'm going to fuck you senseless right in front of your husband," he whispered, his voice a dark promise that made her pulse race. "You don't mind, do you?" His hands roamed further, exploring the contours of her body—her soft hips, the dip of her lower back, the swell of her curves—claiming every inch as his own.
"Hmm…" she moaned softly, surrendering herself completely to the moment. Her body, her mind, her soul—all of it belonged to Minato now.
The bed was shrouded in delicate, translucent veils, casting a soft glow around them, obscuring her husband's view. Through the fabric, she could only make out the faint shadow of Fugaku sitting there, motionless, powerless.
The thought thrilled her. Minato had forbidden him from seeing her body—her curves, her skin, her desire—it all belonged to him now, not her husband. The power dynamic had shifted entirely, and she relished it. Once, she had been the obedient wife, following Fugaku's every command. But now? Now she held the reins, and she was going to savor every second of it.
Turning to face Minato, she locked eyes with him, her gaze smoldering with intent. Her fingers moved with deliberate slowness, undoing the knot of her dancing dress. The silken fabric slid down her body, pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a pair of lacy panties and a sheer top that barely covered her full, heaving breasts.
Minato's eyes darkened with hunger as he drank in the sight of her—her toned legs, her slender waist, the seductive curve of her hips, and the fire in her eyes that dared him to take her.
"Come and take me in front of my husband," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. She stepped closer, her hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling herself flush against him. Her lips crashed into his, a hungry, desperate kiss that ignited sparks between them.
"Mmh…" she moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled as Minato's hands roamed her body. His fingers groped her chest, squeezing her breasts through the thin fabric before delivering a sharp, playful slap that made her gasp. "Mmh… mm…" The sting sent a jolt of pleasure through her, her body arching into his touch, craving more.
From beyond the veils, Fugaku sat in silence, the faint sound of his wife's moans piercing the air like a dagger. His cock twitched, hardening despite himself, a shameful heat pooling in his gut.
He knew he could no longer have her—she belonged to Minato now, to the lord who had claimed her in ways he never could. Her moans, raw and unrestrained, echoed in his ears, a cruel reminder of his inadequacy. She had always mocked him, her words cutting like a blade, taunting his incompetence, his shortcomings. "You're nothing compared to him," she'd sneer, her eyes glinting with cruel delight as she compared his modest five inches to Minato's overwhelming prowess.
The first time Fugaku had seen Minato take her, he'd been stunned, certain that such a man would break her. But instead, she had come alive under him, her body writhing, her moans louder and more desperate than anything Fugaku had ever elicited. She had surrendered to Minato in a way she never had with him, her pleasure a performance that both humiliated and enthralled him. Now, as her moans grew louder, more fervent, he felt the weight of his own arousal—a twisted, shameful thing. He was beneath her now, reduced to a spectator in her ecstasy, and yet the sound of her pleasure only tightened the coil of desire within him.
She pulled back from the kiss, her lips swollen and glistening, her eyes locked on Minato's. "Make him hear me," she whispered, her voice a sultry command. "Make him know who I belong to." Her fingers trailed down Minato's chest, tugging at his shirt, urging him to shed the barriers between them. She wanted Fugaku to hear every gasp, every cry, to know that she was no longer his—that she never truly had been.
Minato's grin was predatory as he pulled her closer, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. "Oh, he'll hear you," he promised, his voice low and dangerous. "He'll hear every scream, every plea, until he understands you're mine." His fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, tugging them down slowly, teasingly, letting the anticipation build.
She shivered under his touch, her body humming with need, her heart pounding with the thrill of being claimed so publicly, so unapologetically.
As the veils swayed gently around them, she cast a glance toward the shadowy figure of her husband, her lips curling into a wicked smile. This was her power, her triumph. She was no longer the dutiful wife, bound by his rules. She was a goddess, desired and worshipped by a man who could match her fire. And as Minato's hands roamed her body, as his lips found hers again, she let herself fall into the ecstasy of it all, knowing Fugaku could do nothing but listen—and burn.