Ch. 96 – Beat Them at Their Own Game

The dark entity seized full operational control, reducing Rhys to a vessel of absolute, unyielding instinct. Rhys clamped his hands firmly onto Seraphina’s hips, driving into her with a punishing, relentless momentum. Seraphina arched her back sharply against the curve of the glass, her dark wings flaring wide into the night air as wave after wave of intense spasms wracked her body. Behind him, Shula’s clone pressed tightly against his back, her lips and tongue trailing feverish heat across his shoulders and neck.

"I’ve... I’ve never felt anything like this before," Seraphina gasped out, her voice trembling with raw, unfiltered ecstasy. "Thank you... thank you for making me feel like this, Rhys. Your touch... it’s the only thing that feels right."

The confession sparked an automatic, primal response in Rhys's body, his physical frame accelerating its rhythm without conscious thought. The wet, rhythmic clapping of skin echoing into the night sky merged with Seraphina’s helpless moans. She looked straight down through the transparent ceiling, her eyes landing directly on her husband, Ging. There was no trace of guilt or remorse in her expression—only a cold, distant pity.

Down below, completely unaware of the spectacle taking place directly over his head, the diminutive tiefling was actually making a miraculous comeback in the board game. The boisterous, loud banter surrounding the final turns served as a perfect acoustic shield, burying the sounds from the roof. Marcus was visibly flustered, his early victory slipping through his fingers, while Darius quietly plotted his own strategy, smirking to himself as he closed the point gap.

The original Shula sat nearby, forcing a polite smile to mimic interest in the game, but her body was failing her composure. The sensory feedback from her clone up above sent waves of heat through her veins, causing her legs to squirm together under the table as her breathing grew shallow and rapid. Ging, practically standing on his chair in triumph, felt like the king of his castle, entirely confident in his impending victory.

Only Lira sat detached from the game's excitement. Her anger radiated in quiet, heavy waves—not over the match, but over the absurd stretch of time that had passed without her husband returning from the kitchen.

Up on the cold glass, Shula’s clone giggled softly into Rhys’s ear. "I'm enjoying our little game up here so much more than the one down there," she purred, her fingers working frantically against her own wetness as she held onto him.

Seraphina turned her head, looking up at Rhys with utter, devoted surrender. In that quiet glance, she made her silent choice—renouncing her marriage entirely to serve him. "Your touch is the only one my body will ever accept now, Rhys," she whispered, her eyes pleading for a single shred of validation. She opened her mouth to say, "I love you," but the words were violently cut off as Rhys reached down, snatching a handful of her hair to pull her head back while his other hand delivered a sharp, resonant slap to her rear.

Shula’s clone gasped aloud at the sudden display of dominance, her fingers accelerating. The shock drove Seraphina over the edge into a violent, magic-infused climax, her dark wings pulsing with latent aura as her inner muscles clamped tightly around him.

Rhys remained completely relentless, driving straight through her climax without slowing down.

It's all just a game to them... their little petty game, the dark, layered voice echoed through the vast expanse of his mind. They force my hand. They try to trap you. I can no longer allow this... so we are going to beat them at their own game.

As he continued his rhythmic assault into the slumping, breathless form of Seraphina, Rhys turned his head toward Shula’s clone. His free hand shot down, plunging directly into her warmth as he locked eyes with her through the dark mask.

I'm going to eat you up whole next, the mental broadcast slammed into her consciousness.

Downstairs in the living room, the real Shula let out an audible, breathless gasp of pure ecstasy. Conveniently, the rest of the table mistook her reaction for dramatic excitement over Darius’s sudden, game-winning move.

Lira merely let out a long, exhausted sigh, tilting her head back to rest against the sofa, her closed eyes pointing directly up toward the glass ceiling lights.