The lustful tension between us sizzles through the air. My eyes linger on her body for a few moments before I forcefully turn her around. "What are you doing?" she asks, her voice wavering slightly.I pause for a moment before I answer. "I'm giving you a choice," I say, my voice low and deep. "You can either stay still and enjoy what I have to offer, or you can go ahead and kill me."Holding back a chuckle at my wisecrack, I press her face and tits against the wall. How could I say, ‘I’m giving you a choice,’ when every second I’m still alive is a choice she makes? Weirdly enough, the idea of her being able to kill me but choosing not to is turning me on so much more than I expected. A mischievous grin spreads across my face. Let’s see how much I can do to her before she decides to end this little game along with my life. Holding her forearms and pulling them back, I force her back to arch. My legs nudge hers to part, and she dutifully obliges. My erection stands straight, pointin
Bree's expression shifts, her eyes flickering with uncertainty as her gaze scours mine, wanting to know if I'm serious about making her beg. The contrast between her glower and her quivering lips reflects the conflict between her mind and her body. I can understand the inner turmoil. If she gives in to me, she is admitting to having a weakness. If she refuses me, she'll have lose out on the potential fuck of a lifetime.Teeth biting into her lower lip, Bree gulps, her eyes returning to my cock which still stands at attention, pointing toward her. “I–I…” she starts, but the words seem to get stuck in her throat. She gulps again and struggles to say the words. This woman fought and killed three men who were her lovers, showing no doubt or even a hint of fear or remorse. Yet, now she can't bring herself to beg and say my name, even if desperation is written all over her face. “I can wait…” I say, and my gaze moves to her cunt. I find it endearing that she can't say it. Bree shies aw
System remains silent, and I have the vague impression she’s looking down on me, waiting for me to figure it out all by myself while she’s snickering hidden in a corner.A small whimper escapes Bree, and I shake off my shock to turn to her.“That was very… intense,” she mutters, “to put it mildly.”Before the implications of what System said could make their way into my mind, the answer appears before me. Bree lifts up her chin, and her face seems to shine with a golden glow. There's no denying it.Nevertheless, similar to wiping a table with a cloth, the sparkle vanishes as if she’s not allowing herself to let it out. “Yes, it was,” I say, putting back my pants. Bree’s former glow had to be just in my imagination, a picture stirred by the System and her jokes. If I don’t want to pointlessly lose my extra life, I should get going before I say something to get on Bree’s wrong side. Though, would System really joke about something like this? She seems pretty serious about tasks and r
When I reach the smithy, I take a seat on the stone ledge that faces the forge next to the workbench, letting my body relax a little bit. Tiredness looms over me like a dark cloud, telling me I need a break and to catch up on my sleep. After spending the entire night gathering obsidian and Storm Clay under the light of a candle lamp, I’m beat. No need to mention the other things I did in the caves. All of which was just to save my life, of course.But I haven't really thought much beyond that. This whole situation with Bree is starting to bother me. Why would she fall in love with me?It's not like I was anything special. Not even in this world. Plus, she had other men. It's not like she was a virgin or anything. Quite the contrary.I shake my head as my arms cross over my chest. Nevermind love. She tried to kill me. That can hardly be considered an act of love. The question is what's wrong with System?Trying to forget about Bree and System, I pull out the obsidian and the bowl with
Rolling purple clouds gather above the city, melding together with the darkness of night. The wind picks up, pushing against the windows which rattle in their frames. The world goes dark as the clouds cover everything in sight.I open the door, but I remain at the threshold. No one is left on the streets, no one is brave or foolish enough to stay outside now. What many call around here “Nature’s Onslaught” is about to commence. The drops start to fall, and the oncoming storm blasts a heavy smell of rain into my nostrils. Tiny droplets splash against my face as my hair is blown back. Raindrops patter down on the cobblestone, forming a river running along the street.Tiny drops of water pour from the wet trees and plants in front of the smithy, causing the leaves to sway in rhythm with the thunderous beat of the rain.I’d tuck my hands into the pockets of my jacket for a bit of extra comfort if my fingers wouldn’t be needed to hold on to the sword. “Place it on the ground a few feet a
When I step into the smithy, Aslan greets me with a smile, his ponytailed beard brushing against his thick neck. "Well done, lad. I was afraid you’d not gonna make it back. You look pale. Have you seen a ghost?"I chuckle, and a shiver runs through my chilled body. “You could say that.”I'm soaked to the bone, and I can barely hear myself speak because of the water in my ears.Aslan laughs. "What happened? You didn't go after it, did you? Maybe that's where all the missing people go. After the ghost."“I’ll go change my clothes and rest for a bit until the storm passes,” I say.Aslan nods and pats my shoulder as I pass by him. After gathering obsidian and Storm Clay, fearing for my life during the fight between Bree and her henchmen, fucking Bree into submission, helping Aslan with the sword, trudging through the storm, and watching a goddess masturbating, I’d say I deserve some rest. I take off my jacket and set it aside to dry. Then I remove my tunic and pants, leaving only my sh
When I wake, light shines through the small corner window. My neck and back ache, stiff from dozing off too much on the thin sleeping mat. I stretch out a bit, yawning and rubbing my eyes. A need for coffee hits me hard. Too bad on Kerenza, there is none— or at least not in Zhenaria. People here have never heard of it. Maybe I’ll get better luck if I ever leave this kingdom. Zhenarians have their own special kind of tea— Morning Brew— that is supposed to be a morning shot of energy. I haven’t tried it yet, but from Wrenn’s memories I know it doesn’t suit his taste buds. Legs wobbly and eyes half-closed, I stagger to the main room of the smithy. The old man is there, sitting at the table with a cup of Morning Brew, and his gaze is locked onto something in front of him. As I shift my attention to whatever he’s looking at, my eyes widen and my sleepiness dissipates. On the table, in a fine red leather scabbard, lies a sword. The sheath is crafted with skill, though that’s not what c
I step back, trying to keep my distance from the rusty blade waving menacingly inches away from my nose. A foot intentionally placed behind my ankle sends me to the ground. I land on my backside with a loud thud. Okay, this is getting a bad turn. I can practically feel fear freezing my bones. I look at my sword, and my fingers tighten their grip around the hilt. It won't do me any good. I can barely swing it. What chance would I have to defend myself against so many thugs?The thieves’ leader steps forward. With a smug smirk, he looms over me, the rusty blade raised high before lowering slowly until its point reaches my neck. “You’re not much of a fighter, are you?” To underline his mockery, he lets out a huff of scorn. “Your bulky frame isn’t of any help if you have no skill. So, are you going to die for a sword or hand it over to us?”Not giving them the obsidian sword may be a one-way ticket to a painful death. My hunch is that having my flesh ripped apart by a rusty blade would