Chapter 229: Dangerous Queen

At night, in a different room of the hut, Rodalina was working her tail with the intensity of a woman possessed.

Her husband was right next to her, dead to the world and snoring like a bear in hibernation.

She didn't even bother to ask if he wanted to join in the fun—not that he'd notice. How could he compete with the fantasy playing out in her head?

She wasn't thinking about the man beside her; she was thinking about that handsome devil with those dangerous crimson eyes and the bulge that had made her mouth water like she was staring at a feast.

With every thrust of her tail, she could feel herself getting closer, her mind replaying the memory of Kaisen's smirk, his words dripping with arrogance.

Tomorrow, she told herself, she'd prove him wrong. She'd show him exactly what she was made of, but tonight, her tail was doing all the heavy lifting.

And then, with a final, desperate thrust, she came, her juices soaking her tail as she bit her lip to stifle a moan.

Panting and sweating, she barely gave herself time to recover before she was ready to start round two.

Her mind was a whirl of lust and determination—tomorrow, she'd have her revenge, but tonight, she'd indulge in every dirty thought that crimson-eyed bastard had planted in her head.

...

Kaisen popped back into his room like a horny jack-in-the-box, genuinely shocked that the exit button had actually worked.

After months of frustration, he could finally jump between worlds. But his brain wasn't exactly pondering the mysteries of game mechanics right now.

No, his mind was stuck on one thing: Rodalina. Teasing her had wound him up tighter than a drum, and his cock was practically begging to be buried in some hot, fluffy pussy.

Where to find a willing participant? Well, why not aim high? The new queen of this world, Helena, was just the ticket.

So he'd slipped into her room like a horny thief, closing the door behind him as quietly as a mouse with a fetish for royalty.

She was sprawled out on the bed, looking like a goddess in a see-through lavender nightie that left little to the imagination.

Her perfect ass cheeks were practically calling his name through the thin fabric, and Kaisen was rock hard just thinking about how they'd feel in his hands.

Helena was hugging her pillow, looking as innocent as a little girl in a fairytale—except this princess wasn't waiting for a prince.

Helena was firing off insults like a machine gun. Jealousy was practically dripping off her, thick enough to drown in.

Kaisen cocked an eyebrow, more amused than anything.

"Nobody sent me here, Helena. I came for you. Sure, I met Kara. She saved my ass, but that's where it ends. She didn't tell me to mess with you or pull some kind of Mission Impossible shit."

"Liar! Misty, is he lying?"

Out of nowhere, something whirred from under the bed. A drone floated up, sleek and metallic, like a futuristic snitch. It hovered in the air, blinking lights casting an eerie glow.

Another fucking drone? What was this, the world's weirdest tech convention?

"This man is 100% organic with no artificial components detected. His vitals indicate no signs of deception. Conclusion: he is telling the truth."

The drone buzzed in a monotone voice, as if reading off a diagnostic report.

Kaisen's jaw nearly dropped.

'What the fuck? A drone that can sniff out lies?'

This whole situation was starting to feel like a fever dream, complete with talking drones and psycho women with guns.

Helena turned to face him, but the barrel of the shotgun remained locked on his forehead, hovering just an inch away.

Her eyes flickered with uncertainty, yet there was still a dangerous glint there, like a wildcat cornered and ready to pounce.

Helena started biting her nails, muttering a mix of curses and phrases that included words like "seducing," "murder," and "big fat cocks."

Kaisen wasn't really paying attention to her crazy rambling, though. His focus was on the sight of her ass, jiggling like two fluffy clouds in a thunderstorm.

Every time she trembled, it was like watching a bowl of jello wobble in slow motion, and it was driving him wild.

He needed to get his hands on those cheeks, to grab them, squeeze them, and bury his face right in the middle.

The hunger was almost unbearable, like a starving man staring at a feast.