Ch. 114 – He Wouldn’t F*cking Dare

The happy thought of Rhea kept fizzling out in his mind. One of the women in his life who usually brought him nothing but total chaos and endless problems was actually looking out for him for once.

I shouldn’t be feeling this relieved over her helping me, Rhys chastised himself sternly. He should be thinking exclusively of his wife, Lira. It was already more than two hours into the grand opening party, and there was still no sign of her anywhere on the floor.

And where the hell is that dusty shadow at, anyway?! Rhys shouted in his own head.

He scanned the crowded ballroom, looking for the phantom. The ambient lights had picked back up as the grand "Lightshow" officially came to an end, illuminating the lively dance floor. He saw no immediate trace of his old specter, but his hyper-focused eyes locked instead onto the fuming dwarf standing directly in front of him.

I swear you weren’t like this before, Rhys thought, deeply puzzled. You were damn near about to rub my shoulders alongside your wife just a few seconds ago.

Durin kept mumbling violently under his breath, shooting angry side-glances up at Rhys. "'Honey,' she says... No, no! She said it twice! I know what I heard!" the dwarf grumbled, his knuckles white as he gripped his tiny appetizer plate.

"Hey... Durin, I really don’t think you should worry yourself—" Rhys began, but his voice abruptly hitched in his throat.

The two ravenous women beneath the bar counter were nowhere near satisfied. Dione had skunked over to the side, her fingers splaying her slick wetness as she tried desperately to keep Rhys's finish inside her, her hand moving in a fast, smooth rhythm. She looked more than radiant, her blue hair shimmering with vivid shades of turquoise now.

Oh... shit, Rhys thought, completely awestruck by her transformation.

Ariadne came into view beside her a second later. She licked her lips clean of the last stray drop of Rhys, holding the two twirling crimson rings around one finger while her other hand massaged her own throbbing warmth, her legs spasming with latent pleasure. Combining the two magic bands into a single, massive ring, Ariadne fed it raw red energy until it expanded. Positioned directly beneath her rear, the portal ring lifted her entirely off the floor, allowing her to stretch her legs straight out with her heels resting right under the bar ledge.

Rhys had an unhindered, front-row view of everything. Her dripping warmth was on full display, her hand moving with wicked smoothness to give him a private, debaucherous show.

HOLY SHIT, was the only coherent thought left in Rhys's brain.

Rhys snapped his eyes upward to check on Durin, who was visibly building up the courage to march forward and give Rhys a piece of his mind. If the dwarf took even two steps closer to the counter, he would be able to see Ariadne’s scandalous acts in full high-definition.

"Durin, hold on!" Rhys blurted out, desperate to halt his approach.

Then, he felt it. Ariadne guided him straight back inside her, letting out a silent, breathless gasp beneath the bar. She began bucking her hips upward against him in a smooth, agonizingly slow rhythm.

Durin paused, scowling. "What is it, Rhys? Or should I say... 'HONEY'?!" He threw up air-quotes with his fingers for dramatic emphasis on the last word.

That’s actually funny, Rhys thought with dark, ironic amusement. Whenever I hear "or should I say..." like that, I usually expect to hear my old hero name.

He was entirely numb to the fact that the dwarf standing before him had just been forced to hear his own wife address another man so intimately.

"I... I want you to notice something," Rhys said, thinking at lightspeed.

Ariadne made remaining stoic nearly impossible as her heels lightly clicked against the underside of the wooden bar. Fortunately, the rhythmic clicking matched the slow, sultry cadence of the jazz music currently floating through the ballroom. Beside her, Dione latched tightly onto Rhys’s knee, her other hand frantically working her own wetness.

"I... uhh... I wanted to thank you, too," Rhys stammered.

The statement caught Durin completely off guard. "What do you mean by that?"

"I wanted to thank you becau—" Rhys doubled over slightly as Ariadne picked up her pace below, grinding upward into him. He couldn't see her face, but he knew with absolute certainty that she was reveling in his torturous pleasure.

"Oh! Uhh... huh! Oh, heyyy, Rhys! You good, man? Do you need a drink?" Ging slurred, swaying dangerously in a near-drunken slumber. "We should get... we should get our-selves... another DRINK!"

He used to be able to handle way more cups than this, Rhys noted plainly, his mind wandering briefly. Probably because his body isn't as big as it used to be?

Rhys didn't have time to answer his own question.

"You were saying, Rhys?" Durin pressed, completely ignoring the plastered tiefling beside him.

The sheer sensation of Ariadne moving below sent a violent ripple straight up Rhys's spine; she was getting far too excited.

"I was saying... because you were so kind enough to... to be able to... be strong enough to..." Rhys kept rambling aimlessly, his famous silver tongue completely failing him under the physical assault.

Damn you, you evil, EVIL woman! he screamed in Ariadne's direction mentally.

As if sensing his rising anger, the red-haired fox began twisting her hips in tight, circular motions, driving her groin into him with ruthless precision.

"Look, I get that you’re going through 'chest pains' or whatever because of your heart, but that doesn’t give you the right to play in my face!" Durin snapped, his face turning red. "Especially about my wife! I’m coming back there!"

"NO!" Rhys blurted out, his calm customer-service mask completely cracking. "I mean... uh, I can only let trusted kitchen cooks back here, Durin. You must understand."

Durin hesitated, stepping back a fraction, but tightly folded his thick arms. "Then explain this! Explain this 'honey' business!"

Ding.

An idea suddenly clicked in Rhys's fried brain, shining with absolute clarity.

"Rhea and I became really close back when I was going around asking the wives in the neighborhood for their home recipes, honestly, Durin," Rhys lied smoothly, forcing his voice into a steady register. "I think Rhea only felt comfortable calling me 'honey' because we've become such good friends."

Durin swallowed the lie whole, digesting it as if it were a solid slab of rock. Fitting for a dwarf.

That sick thought couldn’t have come from Omen... I'm the only guilty specter around here, Rhys realized with a prick of shame.

He instinctively scanned the ballroom once more, looking for his nagging, mental roommate.

And then he saw it.

And right beneath it, he finally saw her.

Walking through the grand entryway was his wife, Lira—she had finally arrived at the venue. Rhys felt his heart swell for multiple reasons at once: first from the sheer sight of the woman he adored, and second from a cold surge of protective horror as he saw Omen's shadowy form looming directly behind her, creeping closer as she walked into the room.

He wouldn’t fucking dare! Rhys roared in his mind, his protective instincts overriding everything else.

He instinctively jerked his body back, pulling completely out of Ariadne with a sharp, wet pop. He could swear he heard a faint, quiet sigh of disappointment from beneath the bar.

Instead of getting a second of respite, however, Dione surged forward and greedily took his throbbing length straight into her mouth, having waited for that exact microsecond. The sudden, drastic shift in physical sensation made Rhys's vision go completely blurry.

Aww, shittt... echoed continuously through every corner of his mind.