The realisation should’ve pissed me off. Instead, my pussy throbbed like it owed him rent.
Then Adebayo turned, and through the lenses, his six-pack looked close enough to lick. My mouth went dry. Had he been imagining his tongue there while I swam? Had those big hands palmed his dick, stroking to the sight of me? “This boy has turned me into his private Netflix!”
I was so wet I could feel it soaking through his shirt. What kind of messed-up wife gets hotter for a peeping Tom than her own cheating husband?
Slamming the binoculars down, I grabbed my robe, now more transparent than government promises, and bolted downstairs.
Just as my bare feet hit the last step, the back door swung open.
“Your door’s open, Mrs.Chidinma,” Adebayo said, his gaze crawling up my body like he wanted to peel his shirt off me with his teeth. He set the screwdriver down with a heavy clunk—and let’s be real, that wasn’t the only long, hard thing in the room.
“Though I must say,” his voice dropped to that rough, honeyed tone that made my thighs clench, “that shirt looks way better on you than it ever did on me.”
“Bullshit,” I shot back, chin high, refusing to check if my nipples were putting on another show. His lips curled into that knowing smirk—the one that said he remembered exactly how they looked bare and begging in his binoculars’ crosshairs.
“Thank you,” I breathed, stepping closer—close enough to smell the sweat and sin on his skin. “I should… go.” My pulse hammered as I imagined him watching through that window last night: me slipping out of my robe, my hands sliding over my own body, all while he
“Anytime,” he murmured, the word thick with promise. And we both knew exactly what kind of “help” he meant.
“You’re a lifesaver, Adebayo,” I lied, rising onto my toes. My lips brushed his cheek—innocent, except for the way my tits pressed against him, except for the shaky breath I let out against his stubble.
“Like a knight in shining armour,” Adebayo joked.
“More like knight in joggers,” I shot back, laughing—until my fingertip brushed his pec and fucking hell! It was like poking a brick wall. My mind went straight to the gutter: If his chest is this hard, how stiff is that—
“STOP IT!” I screamed at my own brain.
Adebayo’s grin turned filthy as he wrapped his big, dark hand around mine, swallowing it whole. “Rescuing naked damsels is my speciality,” he rumbled, thumb stroking my wrist in a way that had no business being that sinful. “Call me if you need… anything.”
That anything hung between us, heavy with implication. A broken hinge? A leaking pipe? Or maybe just his thick dick splitting me open like an overripe mango?
I yanked my hand back like I’d been burned and bolted out the door before my traitorous body could humiliate me further.
Back home, reality crashed down. My useless husband was probably balls-deep in some fresh-out-of-university slut while I stood in our bedroom, still swimming in Adebayo’s shirt, staring at the window like a lovesick fool.
“Are you watching me right now, you nosy bastard?” I whispered, fingers toying with the hem of the shirt. “Do you want to see me take it off? Should I invite you over?”
“Fuck it.”
The thought hit me like a bolt of lightning. My husband had been dipping his dick in every available honey pot—why should I be the only one playing saint? And that bulge in Adebayo’s trousers earlier? Jesus Christ, that thing looked like it could solve all my problems and then some.
He has been watching me like I was premium DSTV channel anyway. Already seen me damn near naked—hell, probably seen me spread eagle in the pool if those binoculars were any indication. So why the hell shouldn’t I get a taste of the view too? My fingers itched to yank off this stupid t-shirt and press my bare tits against his window—let him really get his money’s worth.
“Stupid fucking sheets,” I muttered, sniffing the shirt collar. I wanted to drown in Adebayo’s scent—that raw, masculine musk that probably clung to his sheets, his skin, his—
My phone suddenly felt heavy in my hand. Then I remembered that useless neighbourhood watch meeting months ago where we’d all exchanged numbers “for emergencies.”
Well, wasn’t this an emergency? My heart was doing acrobatics, and my pussy? Dripping like a broken tap. Before I could talk myself out of it, I scrolled to his name and hit call.
“Hi Chidinma.” His voice came through the line like dark chocolate—smooth, rich, and probably bad for me.
“Hi Adebayo,” I breathed, suddenly as eloquent as a horny teenager.
“You forgot something?” Adebayo’s voice dripped with that knowing, smoky amusement that made my knees weak.
I bit my lip, playing dumb. “I was… ehm… thinking maybe you want to come collect your shirt?” We both knew this wasn’t about fabric.
“Why don’t you bring it back to me?” he countered, voice smooth like aged whiskey.
“My husband won’t be home tonight if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said, stepping closer to the window, letting the morning light outline every curve under his thin shirt.
“Not worried about that,” he rumbled, eyes darkening. “I just think it’s polite to return things you borrow, don’t you?”
“So… you want me to bring it?” I asked, my mind flashing to his bedroom, that massive bed, those strong hands, the way his trousers hung low on his hips…
“Don’t you usually return things you borrow?” he deflected, that smirk playing on his lips.
“I do,” I breathed, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt, starting to lift it, slow, teasing.
“Stop!” His voice cracked like a whip. “Leave it like that. Bring it back like that.”
A wicked grin spread across my face. “So you are watching me!” I let the fabric fall back into place, clinging to my bare skin.
“Yes,” Adebayo’s deep voice rumbled through the phone, thick with lust, sending shivers straight to my core.
“You were watching me earlier. In the pool.” No question, just cold, hard fact.
“I like your breast stroke,” he purred, voice dripping with sinful amusement.
“I was floating on my back,” I corrected, my breath hitching.
“Exactly,” he replied, so fucking smug that my nipples hardened instantly, begging for attention.
“What do you do when you watch me?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“What do you think I do?” he shot back, his words painting filthy images in my mind, his big hands working that thick bulge in his trousers, stroking himself slow and hard while he watched me float, naked and unaware.
I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to steady myself. “So… if I bring your shirt back like this… What would I wear home?” I teased, biting my lip.
“Don’t worry yourself,” he said smoothly. “I’ll lend you another one… if you want.” That last part came out in a dark, tempting growl.
“Adebayo… What would you do if I brought it over?” My voice was barely a whisper now.
“What would you want me to do?” he countered, again dodging like a seasoned politician.
“You always avoid questions like this?” I sighed, frustrated and turned on in equal measure.
“Only when I am not sure of the exact answer,” he said, calm as ever.
“You mean to tell me… You don’t know what you’re going to do to me?” I challenged, my pulse racing.
“You will tell me what you want first,” Adebayo said, his voice thick with amusement, like it was the most normal thing for me to spell out exactly how I wanted to be seduced, when my silence stretched too long, or maybe because he saw my nervous fingers through those damn binoculars—his tone dropped to something darker, more commanding.
“Why don’t you come over, and we can discuss it while I retrieve my property?” he said, his voice now a full octave deeper, wrapping around me like smoke. Sensing my hesitation, he added, “No pressure. You can always just borrow it again and go home.”
“Okay.”
I slammed the phone down, then immediately checked my reflection in the mirror—before remembering this bastard was still watching. I rolled my eyes at the window, flipped my hair, and practically sprinted downstairs, my bare feet slapping against the tiles.
The night air kissed my skin as I darted across the sidewalk, his shirt barely covering my ass. And there he was—leaning in his doorway like some kind of sex god, his chest glistening under the outdoor light.
“Thanks for returning this so promptly,” he grinned, handing me a glass of wine that was already poured. Like he knew I wouldn’t say no.
Our fingers brushed as I took it, and suddenly we were standing toe to toe, the heat between us thick enough to choke on.
“What brings you here?” Adebayo murmured, his rough fingers tracing my cheek like a live wire, sending shockwaves straight to my dripping core.
“My useless husband is fucking his coworker across town,” I spat out before I could stop myself, my voice raw with bitterness—and maybe something darker, hotter.
“So this is what? Revenge??” He chuckled darkly, swirling his wine before taking a slow sip, eyes never leaving mine.
“I don’t know… but yes, it is a small payback. Make him feel wetin I dey feel,” I admitted, downing my wine in one burning gulp. He just nodded—like he knew this fire burning inside me needed more than words to put out.
Then he set our glasses down with a heavy clink, his gaze turning predatory. “What do you like?”
Before I could answer, his hands were under the hem of his shirt—my only covering—and lifting it slowly over my head. The cool air hit my bare skin, but his eyes burned hotter.
“What do you mean??” I breathed, suddenly exposed, my body on full display against his dark, towering frame.
His fingers grazed the side of my breast, hard against soft, sin against skin, and the contrast alone made me whimper.
“Tell me something,” Adebayo murmured, his rough palms skimming the sides of my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they hardened into tight peaks. “You like to be in charge… or you want me to handle you?”
The way he said it—low, wicked, like he already knew the answer, sent liquid heat pulsing straight to my core.
“I don’t want to control anything tonight,” I gasped, arching into his touch as his fingers traced slow, teasing circles. “Just… just do what you wanna do.”
A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest as he palmed my breasts fully, weighing them in those massive hands, thumbs flicking over my nipples. “Ehn, but how far do you want me to take you?” he growled, squeezing just enough to make me whimper.
Holy fuck. No man had ever talked to me like this while touching me like that, like I was a meal and he was starving. I could feel my panties soaking through, my hips already begging to grind against him.
“What are my options?” I breathed, even as his mouth descended to my neck, teeth scraping skin.
“Restrained… or out of control?” Adebayo growled, his thick eyebrows arching with wicked promise. Before I could answer, his strong fingers circled my wrists like velvet handcuffs, forcing my arms high above my head. The sudden dominance made my pussy clench – this Yoruba demon knew exactly how to play my body like a talking drum.
“I… I’ve never…” I whimpered, already shaking with anticipation.
“Don’t worry, baby girl,” he purred against my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “We will take it slow….”
Still pinning my wrists, his mouth descended on my rock-hard nipples – licking like chilled Chapman, sucking like peak-season mango, nibbling like he wanted to leave marks my cheating husband would notice. My legs turned to Indomie noodles as pleasure short-circuited my brain. Holy Mother Mary! What kind of oral witchcraft was this?
Just when the tremors in my thighs threatened to buckle my knees, Adebayo released my wrists and swept me up like a bride – one muscular arm cradling my shoulders, the other hooked under my knees, my bare ass on full display.
“Time for proper bedroom punishment, Mrs. Chidinma,” he smirked, carrying me upstairs while I left wet trails on his abs. Unable to resist, I flicked my tongue against his glistening chest.
“This is going to be fun, isn’t it?,” Adebayo growled as he lifted me effortlessly and deposited me in the centre of his massive bed. The dark blanket swallowed me whole, soft as sin beneath my bare skin.
Before I could even catch my breath, he snatched my wrist to his mouth, pressing slow, wet kisses along my palm—each one sending electric shocks straight to my core. I was so lost in the sensation, I didn’t even notice the leather cuff sliding around my wrist until he let go, and I tried to pull back.
“Ah-ahn! What is this?” I gasped, tugging uselessly against the restraint.
But Adebayo was already circling the bed like a predator, repeating the same devilish trick on my other hand—kisses so soft, the cuffs so sudden, until both my arms were stretched taut, bound to the headboard.
“You just keep handcuffs on your bed as if it’s a decoration?” I panted, arching an eyebrow.
He didn’t answer. Instead, those big hands slid down my legs, massaging my calf as he casually clicked a cuff around my ankle. “Comfortable?” he murmured, like he was asking about the weather.
“You this man—” My protest died in my throat as he grabbed my other leg, securing it with the same ruthless efficiency.
Now I was spread wide open, completely at his mercy, while he stood at the foot of the bed, drinking me in with those hungry eyes.
” So I am not your first victim in this bed abi?” I quipped, trying to sound unshaken even as my pulse hammered against the cuffs. Adebayo just shrugged again, that infuriating smirk playing at the corners of his mouth like he knew a dirty secret I wasn’t in on yet.
“Do you feel powerless?” he murmured, strolling over to a sleek computer setup in the corner like this was all part of some well-rehearsed ritual.
“I do feel… restrained,” I shot back, arching against the cuffs in open challenge. Funny how I wasn’t shaking with fear – tied up in a near-stranger’s bedroom, nobody knowing where I was – but something about his calm, controlled energy made me wetter than scared.
“Look up,” he commanded, fingers dancing across the keyboard.
What I’d thought was just a dark ceiling panel suddenly blazed to life, revealing a massive fucking screen – and there I was, spread eagle and naked as the day I was born, displayed in 4K glory above his bed.
“Blood of Jesus!” My eyes darted between Adebayo and the monitor like a ping-pong match, my brain short-circuiting. This man had a fucking bird’s-eye view camera mounted in his ceiling, and right now? It was broadcasting every inch of my spread-eagled shame in 4K HD.
Adebayo crawled onto the bed beside me, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my inner thigh. “You ever watch yourself cum before?” he murmured, voice thick with mischief.
I shook my head, pulse racing. “My husband and I tried recording ourselves a few times, but…”
“But it’s one shitty camera angle, abi?” He chuckled, his fingers sliding higher, teasing my slick folds.
I glared at the ceiling. “And isn’t this one stationary?”
