Phei's fingers repeated the same pattern as his fingers moved in and out of her—slow at first, then faster and harder. Wet sounds filled the library as Dravenna's hips began rolling on their own again, fucking herself on his fingers as much as the ice restraints allowed. Her ass lifted and dropped against the table with every thrust, her bound body writhing helplessly while he recorded every second.
Occasionally he would pull his fingers out and slap her clit lightly with them before thrusting back in.
The wet, squelching sounds of his fingers fucking into her were loud and constant on the recording — filthy, rhythmic, and obscene. Even with her mouth sealed, her muffled moans and cries vibrated loudly enough to be picked up by the phone's microphone — high, desperate, garbled sounds that made the video even filthier.
Phei kept asking between thrusts, voice calm, "Did you say something? Speak up for the camera, Dean."
