'I can't let Artis see my panties in there. Fuck! Why did I even left that there?'
So many confusing, downright sinful thoughts swirled in Nadia's mind as she tiptoed through the quiet house, heading toward Artis's room like a moth to a forbidden fla.
Sleep? Forget it. She hadn't managed even a wink after what had gone down—or almost gone down—between her and Artis last night.
The darkness still blanketed the house, the sun nowhere near rising, but here she was, on a mission fueled by restless curiosity and shaful longing.
Every step made her heartbeat thunder louder. Every glance over her shoulder felt like a guilty confession.
The image of Artis's monster—that towering, vein-covered beast that looked like it had been sculpted to ruin lives—flashed in her mind again, and her knees wobbled like a newborn foal's.
Her cheeks burned, her breath hitched, and oh, the traitorous quiver of her little sister made her stumble.
"Get it together, Nadia!"
She hissed under her breath, clutching her nightie as if it could shield her from the scandalous thoughts ambushing her brain.
But she couldn't. The mory of that almost-ruination haunted her, setting her body alight in ways she couldn't control.
As shaful as it was—and oh, it was shaful—she had spent the entire night with her fingers working overti, replaying every wicked detail in her mind.
"What the hell is wrong with ?!" she groaned internally, shaking her head like she could rattle the sinful images loose.
Her internal scolding was interrupted by the sight of her husband sprawled on the couch like a defeated drunkard, snoring loud enough to scare ghosts. She stopped dead in her tracks, her lip curling in disgust.
"Useless."
She muttered under her breath, shooting him a glare so sharp it could've sliced through his liquor-soaked dreams. Her scowl deepened, a mix of condescension and pity.
"How the hell did I end up with this when that is sleeping just a few steps away?"
'Stupid bastard! Snoring like a pig, and you have no idea your brother-in-law thinks I'm a damn goddess.'
Nadia fud internally, shooting her husband another withering glare.
'If only you knew how Artis looks at , talks about —like I'm the damn forbidden fruit he's dying to sink his teeth into.'
Her face burned red again, and not from embarrassnt. Well, maybe a little.
She shook her head violently as if trying to dislodge the ntal image of Artis's piercing gaze and that sinful smirk that always seed to say, "Just one word, and I'll make you forget your husband exists."
'H-he talks so big, like he'd actually ravage if I gave him half a chance.'
She thought, biting her lip.
'A-any woman would've folded by now. Totally. But not . Nope. N-n-not at all...'
Her thoughts betrayed her as the familiar tingling sensation sparked low in her belly, radiating out to her already *too aware* pussy. She clamped her thighs together instinctively and took a deep breath to steady herself.
'Haaa… okay, Nadia. Focus. Just grab your panties and leave. Get in, get out, like a heist. If Artis wakes up and finds a pair of panties in his room, there's no way he wouldn't know they're mine. And there's no way I want to explain why I left my lavender lace in his den of chaos.'
Her resolve fird. She had a plan—avoid Artis at all costs.
He'd be heading to the palace in the morning anyway, so she was safe until nightfall. And when night ca? She'd just lock herself in her room. No way she'd open the door, even if Artis himself ca knocking with that infuriating grin and those hungry eyes.
No way. Definitely not. Probably.
'And this useless husband of mine can rot on the couch for all I care.'
Nadia thought darkly, side-eyeing the lump of snoring betrayal sprawled out like a drunken slug.
'It's better this way. If I have to look at his sorry ass one more ti, I might actually do sothing stupid—like suffocate him with his own pillow.'
But then her thoughts took an alarming turn.
'Wh-what if Artis stumbles into my room tonight, drunk and stupid? Would he… would he rember last night? Would he try to ravage , thinking I'm one of his whores?'
Her face went crimson, and her mind scread.
She shook her head furiously, banishing the absurd thought as she tiptoed to Artis's door. Her heart hamred in her chest as she stood frozen before the sliding door.
'Okay, Nadia. This is it. Go in, grab the panties, and get the hell out. He's probably dead asleep. No need to look at… at his stupid, chiseled body… or those ridiculously veiny hands… or that goddamn monster cock that almost ruined you last night—damn it, focus!'
She clenched her fists, took a deep, steadying breath, and began sliding the shoji door open inch by inch. No squeaks, no creaks—just enough for her to peek inside and confirm the coast was clear.
But what her eyes landed on made her nearly stumble backward in shock.
'Oh, for fuck's sake. What is* this?!'
Artis wasn't sleeping. Far from it. The scene before her was nothing short of abysmal—and mortifying.
Inside the room, Artis wasn't just awake—he was having the ti of his goddamn life. There he was, sitting at the edge of the bed like a shaless exhibitionist under the glow of the moonlight.
Legs spread wide like he was auditioning for a raunchy painting, one foot propped up like a conquering hero and the other dangling off the edge, casually swaying.
And oh boy, he wasn't idle.
One hand was furiously working his dick like it owed him money, while the other was pressed to his face.
The item in question? Her panties. Her lavender, lace-trimd panties. He was sniffing them like they were the last source of oxygen on Earth, groaning like so overworked farm animal in heat.
Between groans, he was muttering sothing incoherent, his words punctuated by deep, dramatic inhales that could've put a vacuum cleaner to sha.
Nadia's brain short-circuited.
'What the actual fuck am I looking at?!'
Her legs wobbled, her face burned, and her body betrayed her with an unwelco rush of heat that made her want to slap herself.
"Oh, Nadia..."
Artis groaned, his voice thick with desperation as his hand worked his cock like it was a divine relic he had to worship into submission.
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