I walk into the kitchen, my heart pounding in my chest. The familiar scents of herbs and spices that usually bring comfort now seem cloying and oppressive. The air is thick with tension, almost crackling with an electric charge.
Sirre stands at the counter, her back to me, her shoulders rigid with barely contained fury. Her hands grip the edge of the wooden surface, knuckles white with strain. I can see the muscles in her arms trembling slightly, like a predator ready to pounce.
"Honey," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Sirre turns slowly, her movements deliberate and controlled. Her emerald eyes, usually so full of warmth and love, now blaze with a maddened intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, the walls closing in around us.
"Yes, dear?" she replies, her voice deceptively calm but with an undercurrent of danger that sends a shiver down my spine.
I take a hesitant step forward, drawn to her despite the palpable anger radiating from her in waves. My hands reach out, gently grasping her waist and pulling her close. The familiar curves of her body press against mine, a stark contrast to the rigid tension in her frame.
"This is a bit of awkward timing," I begin, my voice trembling slightly, "but we got a new guest."
As the words leave my mouth, I feel a stirring in my loins. The realization of what I'm about to ask her, combined with the proximity of her body and the lingering adrenaline from Mira's arrival, sends a rush of blood southward. My length begins to grow, pressing insistently against Sirre's hip.
Sirre's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise cutting through the anger as she feels my arousal. Her gaze drops down, then back up to my face, a question forming in the depths of those emerald orbs.
"Oh?" she says, her voice low and husky. "And what does this new guest want?"
I swallow hard.The scent of Sirre's perfume, usually so comforting, now feels intoxicating, making my head spin.
"Well," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper, "I may have offered you to him."
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, a deep flush spreading down my neck.
Sirre's eyes widen, a flash of surprise quickly replaced by something darker, more primal. Her lips part slightly, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. She leans in closer, her body pressing against mine in a way that sends jolts of electricity through my entire being.
Her lips brush against my ear, her breath hot and moist. "And what kind of service," she whispers, "did you offer our guest?"
My hands tighten on her waist, pulling her even closer. I can feel every curve of her body through the thin fabric of her dress, the heat of her skin seeping into mine.
"I... I told him," I stammer, my voice thick with desire and shame, "he could... blow off some steam with you tonight."
Sirre pulls back slightly, her emerald eyes locking onto mine. There's a fire in them now, a mixture of lust and something wilder, almost feral.
"Oh, honey," she purrs, her fingers trailing up my chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "You naughty, naughty boy. Offering your wife up like some common whore."
Her words should sting, should fill me with shame, but instead, they send a fresh wave of arousal coursing through me. My cock throbs painfully against the confines of my trousers, begging for attention.
Sirre's eyes flash with want. Her gaze darts to the kitchen door, then back to me, mischief and desire dancing in those emerald depths. With agonizing slowness, she reaches under her skirt and slides her underwear down, the fabric pooling at her ankles.
Before I can react, Sirre's hands are at my waistband. With a swift, practiced motion, she whips my pants off, the cool air of the kitchen hitting my exposed skin. My erection springs free, already painfully hard.
Sirre turns, bracing herself against the kitchen counter. She looks back over her shoulder, her auburn hair cascading down her back like a river of fire. Her skirt rides up, revealing the perfect curve of her ass. She arches her back, presenting herself to me in a way that makes me fall in love all over again.
"Take me," she commands. "Now."
I don't need to be told twice. With a groan, I position myself behind her, my hands gripping her hips. In one smooth motion, I slide into her welcoming heat. We both gasp at the sensation, the familiar yet always intoxicating feeling of our bodies joining.
As I begin to move, setting a steady rhythm, Sirre looks back at me again. Her eyes are half-lidded with pleasure, but there's an intensity in them that makes my heart race.
"Tell me," she pants between thrusts, "what do you want me to do with our guest, love."
The kitchen fills with the sounds of our lovemaking, the slap of skin on skin, our heavy breathing, the creaking of the counter under Sirre's grip.
"I want..." I pant, "I want him to fuck your brains out."
The words tumble from my lips, raw and honest. As soon as they're out, I feel a fresh surge of arousal, my cock twitching inside her.
Sirre lets out a low, guttural moan, her inner walls clenching around me. She pushes back against me, taking me even deeper. Her auburn hair cascades down her back, the ends tickling my chest with each thrust.
"Oh honey," she purrs, her voice dripping with lust, "you want me to be his little slut, don't you?"
Her words send jealousy and excitement through me. I increase my pace, my hips slamming harder and harder against her ass with each thrust.
"Yes," I groan, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears. "I want to see him use you, stretch you out, make you scream."
Sirre arches her back, changing the angle slightly. The new position allows me to hit that spot deep inside her that makes her see stars. She cries out, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter so tightly her knuckles turn white.
"Mmm, baby," she moans, her voice thick with pleasure. "I'll let him fuck me so hard. I'll ride his cock like a wild mare, bouncing on it until my legs give out."
Her words paint vivid pictures in my mind, stoking the fire of my arousal. I can almost see it, Sirre astride Asaf, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her breasts bouncing with each movement.
Sirre looks over her shoulder, her emerald eyes dark with lust. Her auburn hair clings to her sweat-slicked skin, framing her flushed face.
"Oh honey," she purrs, her voice husky and breathless. "I'll let him fill me up so deep. I'll take every last drop of his hot cum in my hungry womb."
I can almost see it, Sirre's lithe form writhing beneath Asaf's muscular bulk, her back arching as he empties himself inside her.
"His thick seed will flood my insides," Sirre continues, her words punctuated by breathy moans. "I'll be so full of him, dripping for hours after."
That's all it takes to push me over the edge. With a guttural groan, I bury myself to the hilt inside Sirre's heat. My release crashes over me in waves of white-hot pleasure. Rope after rope of my cum shoots into Sirre's pussy.
Sirre throws her head back, a scream of ecstasy tearing from her throat. "Yes!" she wails, her inner muscles clenching rhythmically around me, milking every last drop. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck! Oh god, Orth, yes!"
Her cries of pleasure echo off the kitchen walls as her own orgasm overtakes her. "Give me your seed!" she screams, pushing back against me desperately. "Paint my pussy white with your cum! Make me yours!"
As the waves of pleasure slowly subside, I find myself still lightly thrusting into Sirre, our bodies connected in the most intimate way. Her inner walls pulse around me, aftershocks of her intense orgasm rippling through her.
"I love you," Sirre whispers, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I love you so much, Orth."
I lean forward, pressing my chest against her back, and nuzzle into her neck. The scent of her sweat-dampened skin, mixed with the lingering aroma of our lovemaking, fills my nostrils.
"I love you too," I murmur against her flushed skin.
"I love you," she says again, more urgently this time. "You're everything to me, Orth. Everything."
Her words wash over me, soothing and electrifying all at once. I pepper her shoulder with soft kisses.
Slowly, reluctantly, I pull out of her. Sirre lets out a small whimper at the loss of contact. She turns to face me, her emerald eyes shining with unshed tears and a depth of emotion that takes my breath away.
"I love you," she says once more, cupping my face in her hands. "Never forget that, Orth."
Before I can respond, she reaches down and grabs her discarded underwear. With a mischievous grin, she slides them back on, trapping my release inside her.
"I love walking around with your cum inside me," she purrs, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "It makes me feel claimed, marked as yours."
I reach for my pants, pulling them up with shaky hands.
Suddenly, a pointed cough breaks the charged atmosphere. We both freeze, turning slowly to see Mira standing in the doorway, her crimson eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line.
"I heard screaming," she says, her voice clipped and cold. "Is everything alright?"
Sirre's eyes flash with mischief as she turns to face Mira. A wicked grin spreads across her flushed face, her auburn hair still tousled from our passionate encounter. She drapes herself languidly against the kitchen counter, her body language a perfect blend of satisfaction and defiance.
"Oh, never seen a happy married couple make love, Mira?" Sirre purrs, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.
The words hang in the air, sharp and biting. Mira's reaction is instant and visceral. Her hand clenches into a tight fist, the leather of her gloves creaking audibly. Her crimson eyes, usually so cold and calculating, now burn with an intensity that's almost frightening.
A muscle twitches in her jaw as she grinds her teeth, her entire body rigid with barely contained fury.
"Brother," Mira says, her voice strained and tight, "that was so much cum."
The words fall from her lips like lead weights, heavy and uncomfortable.
"Huh? That's a really weird thing to hone in on," I say, lost and confused.
Mira's eyes narrow, her gaze darting between Sirre and me. The fury in her expression morphs into something else, something darker and more complex. Her breathing is shallow and quick, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her leather armor.
"Well," she spits out, each word dripping with venom, "I guess I should be proud you can cum so much."
"Stop talking about how much I can cum," I say, my voice firmer now, tinged with exasperation.
Sirre's eyes light up with pride as she grabs my arm, her fingers wrapping around my bicep possessively. "Honey," she says, her voice filled with reverence, "it really was an exceptional amount cum."
I feel a flush creep up my neck at her words, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal coursing through me.
Mira's reaction is immediate and violent. Her fist slams against the wall with a resounding crack, the impact sending vibrations through the old wooden structure. A small cloud of dust billows from the point of impact, dancing in the dim kitchen light. "I'm going to my room," she snarls, her voice low and dangerous. Without another word, she turns on her heel and storms out, her footsteps echoing heavily through the inn.
As the sound of Mira's retreat fades, I notice a glistening trail running down Sirre's inner thighs. My eyes widen as I realize it's my seed, slowly trickling out of her and threatening to drip onto the kitchen floor.
Sirre follows my gaze and lets out a soft "Whoops." Her tone is playful, almost proud as if she's showing off a prized possession. Despite noticing, she makes no effort to clean herself.
I clear my throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Honey, we really shouldn't be doing this in the kitchen," I say, my voice wavering slightly. "It's not... sanitary."
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see a change come over Sirre. Her eyes, so warm and playful moments ago, suddenly go cold. The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees, matching the icy look in her gaze.
"Don't say that," she says, her voice low and dangerous.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Ah, honey, I mean't to tell you," I begin, trying to change the subject, "the guest is Asaf." The words tumble out in a rush, my nervousness evident in every syllable.
Sirre's expression softens at my words, the icy anger melting away to be replaced by calm surprise. Her emerald eyes widen slightly, a flicker of recognition passing through them.
"Asaf? The C-rank adventurer?" she says, her voice tinged with curiosity. "It's been a while since we've seen him."
The tension in the room dissipates, replaced by a thoughtful silence.
I step closer to Sirre, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her into a tight embrace. I bury my face in her auburn hair.
When I pull back to look at her, I know my eyes must be filled with worry. The corners of my mouth twitch downward, betraying my anxiety despite my efforts to appear calm.
"Condoms are a must," I say. The words seem to hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. "And no kissing."
Sirre studies my face intently, her emerald eyes searching mine. I can see the moment she registers the depth of my concern, her expression softening further. She reaches up, her hand cupping my cheek gently. Her touch is warm and comforting, grounding me in the moment.
"Honey," she says, her voice soft and reassuring, "of course. Whatever you want."
She leans in, pressing her lips against mine in a tender kiss. It's sweet and chaste, a stark contrast to our passionate encounter moments ago. When she pulls away, her eyes are filled with love and understanding.
"Are you going to watch again tonight?"
I feel my breath catch in my throat, my heart rate quickening at her words. I nod.
A slow smile spreads across Sirre's face, her eyes darkening with desire. She leans in again, capturing my lips in another kiss. This one is deeper, more passionate, filled with promise, and barely restrained hunger.
When she breaks the kiss, we're both slightly breathless. "Good," she purrs, her voice dripping with anticipation.