The room was dimly lit, and the two sat at the center, a variety of bottles scattered across the table, clearly having already begun drinking.
Taras massaged Arabella's waist, speaking crudely, "Master Unknown, getting the chance to have another go with you is pure bliss."
Arabella leaned lazily against Taras, holding a bottle and taking a few sips before asking curiously, "Aren't you satisfied with other women?"
"No, they're too reserved; it's not as fun," Taras pulled Arabella closer, bringing their faces inches apart, reeking of alcohol after downing two bottles.
Once he had her in his arms, Taras leaned in and kissed Arabella forcefully, pressing her deep into the sofa.
The alcohol emboldened Taras as he moved his hand down her waist. "Only someone like you, Master Unknown, has enough spice and energy."
Hearing him describe her so provocatively, Arabella chuckled softly, her laughter lazy and unbothered.
To show he was ready for action, Taras pressed his body against her.
His penis was indeed hard as iron.
Arabella turned her head and lifted the bottle to drink. The bottle's neck fit perfectly, and her lips, wet with liquor, gleamed under the light as she swallowed.
Watching her, Taras swallowed, then cupped her chin and kissed her passionately, grinding his tongue against hers and occasionally nibbling her lips until they were flushed red.
Eagerly sucking on the woman in his arms, Taras felt tonight called for something different.
His hands slid under her clothes, continuing their caresses.
"Master Unknown, want to try somewhere new?" Taras leaned closer, his breath brushing her lips as he murmured seductively in her ear.
Arabella glanced at the unfinished liquor on the table and gestured, "Finish the drinks first; then we'll play."
This time, Taras took the hint. He pressed himself onto Arabella, grabbed the bottle, and took a deep swig. Then, he pinched her chin and fed her from his mouth, the rich scent of alcohol emanating strongly between their lips.
After a few rounds, he caught her tongue between his teeth, while his hand traced a slow path down her thigh.
Arabella's skin felt exceptionally smooth to the touch, incredibly supple, and full of elasticity.
Growing more excited, Taras poured the entire bottle over Arabella.
The liquor was strong and fragrant, cold and spicy on the skin, a sensory assault that deepened Arabella's breathing.
Taras's hands gripped her chest, kneading her, the friction warming her skin beneath the liquid.
Arabella felt her temperature rise, her body heating up.
This time, the two moved rightfully to the hot tub.
The water splashed in all directions, and the two fought as though in a battle. First, Taras pressed Arabella into the water, her hands gripping the edge of the large bath, as he kissed her deeply, demanding.
"Master Unknown, you're so tight. You're killing me," Taras gasped in the water, his voice carrying a hint of wild abandon.
Arabella let herself sink further into the tub, with Taras's weight pressing down, both of them submerging together.
Steam slowly spread over the tub, with only faint ripples breaking the silence.
But soon, the water began to shake violently, revealing a scene of boundless passion
As water splashed in all directions, Arabella spun and straddled Taras's waist, her hands pressing firmly against his solid, well-defined chest.
Both of them were soaked through, water dripping as they moved. Arabella curled her finger and lightly traced the lines of his muscles, bold and direct, causing Taras's muscles to tense instinctively with a muffled groan.
Taras, pinned beneath, kept his gaze firmly fixed on Arabella.
At this moment, she still smiled nonchalantly, her body pressing tightly against his long penis, her eyes deep and lazy, shimmering with an enchanting glow.
Arabella could feel Taras's hips thrusting upwards, lifting her body out of the water before slowly lowering her again, his strength immense and forceful.
Arabella moved decisively, leaning down to kiss Taras, their hurried breaths and the sultry sounds swallowed by each other's mouths.
That night, they fought back and forth for dominance, rolling in the bathtub, embracing, kissing, each claiming the other.
They continued until dawn, when the chaos finally subsided.
Taras lay contentedly on the bed, still savoring the intoxicating pleasure from earlier.
"Master Unknown—did I serve you to your satisfaction?" Taras lay prone, watching as Arabella leisurely dressed, and, in a moment of playful mischief, teased her.
Arabella nodded, her pale skin and slender limbs without excess flesh. She casually threw on a piece of clothing, still looking striking, as though a model on a hanger.
Arabella's figure couldn't be called curvaceous; rather, it was slender, long, and well-proportioned.
Lust can turn into a dangerous blade, and if it were Arabella wielding that blade, it would be all the more terrifying.
Before Taras drifted off into a hazy sleep, his mind was filled with those forbidden, risqué images.
How would he handle Arabella next time?
He felt himself harden again.
After finishing up, Arabella calmly returned to the room Taras had arranged for her.
Raven stood at the door, and as soon as he saw her come out, he looked up with dark, unreadable eyes before they regained their color.
"Go rest; you've had a long night." Arabella patted Raven's shoulder, smiling warmly and affectionately.
Of course, Raven knew her warmth was just for show. He had stood outside all night, supposedly guarding the door, though it was more like eavesdropping.
A man and a woman, fighting in such intense physical combat.
Moans and gasps seeped through the cracks of the door and window.
A storm raged within him; he wished he could kill the man inside and take his place.
But he couldn't—his identity, status, and timing were all wrong.
He was a weapon Arabella could use, and a weapon couldn't have any personal feelings for its master.
A weapon should be imposing and cold-hearted.
Obediently, he returned to his room and closed the door. Only then did Raven unbuckle his pants, where he had been hard all night.
His massive, erect part mirrored his own formidable strength.
A fine blade deserved a fine sheath, but—
With a blank expression, he stroked himself, imagining Arabella beside him.
Kneeling next to him, her hips swaying, her pale skin showing that delicate red flesh between her thighs.
He slapped hard, producing a loud "smack."
Deep and shallow, light and heavy, fast and slow,
Each time the sharp sound of her spanking echoed, mingled with Arabella's breath, it sent him into a delirious daze.
He imagined his hot self pressed tightly against smooth, firm flesh.
Wet and sticky, filled with lust.
"Ah—Arabella. I'm going to come," Raven quickened his pace and rhythm, and as he reached the peak, he burst out with a curse: "Damn it, I'm going to fill you up."
After releasing, Raven looked at his hands covered in white, murky fluid, leaning back in emptiness.
It couldn't satisfy him at all; his desire was like an animal instinct.
The beastly nature had to be suppressed constantly.
The prey he set his sights on, high and mighty, would one day be surrounded by a pack of wolves, dragged down from its lofty perch. Then, he would join in, tearing and rending, devouring it whole, until it became part of his very bones and blood.
On the third day, after resting, Arabella led her people away in the middle of the night.
Taras didn't bring them into Abyss's territory. Instead, he found a village halfway up a mountain on the border of Kewa and Island to settle them.
The people Arabella brought were like shadow soldiers, moving in silence.
At that moment, their figures slowly disappeared into the night, and Taras knew that the bloody storm at the Destiny was about to begin.
But—this had nothing to do with him. He was merely a spectator, watching the two dogs fight for the bone.
