Kelly's voice was soft, almost a caress, as she leaned in. "They don't want other women around when he's with someone young... someone pure." "Only his mother will be there—no one else. Just her, to take care of her son... and his woman. To make sure everything is perfect for that special night."
"Because they won't feel repulsed by their mother, no matter what she does. That's why it's her duty—to guide him, to prepare him for what's to come."
She pulled back slightly, her gaze meeting mine. Her eyes were dark, filled with something I couldn't quite place—something that made my pulse quicken.
"I've also heard men don't get their cock hard... not when they're near dirty women." Her fingers brushed against my skin, sending a shiver through me.
I stared at her, my mind racing. That's what they think? Was Astrid unwanted? That her presence would ruin this?
The idea made my blood boil.
Because I didn't give a damn about being clean, I didn't care about being pure.
I wanted Astrid's hands on me just as much as I wanted Rúna's. Wanted to hear the sounds she'd make when she stopped pretending she was just a spectator.
The air in the room was thick with something unspoken—something raw and electric. The rules they followed didn't apply to me. And if that made me different? Then I'd wear it like a second skin.
I let my gaze drift to Astrid, her presence a quiet storm in the corner of the room. There was no hesitation in my voice, no room for doubt.
"Aunt Astrid," I began, the words deliberate, weighted. My fingers twitched at my side, remembering the way Irene's body had responded to my touch earlier—how her breath hitched when I was near. "You should stay too. So Sister Rúna won't feel..." I let my voice trail off, a ghost of a smile tugging at my lips, "...lonely."
Irene's laughter was a dark, velvety sound, her body shifting closer to mine as if drawn by an invisible thread. She knew. Of course, she knew.
She'd spent the entire night feeling the proof of my desire pressing against her, hard and relentless, no matter who was in the room or what sins they carried. Her fingers slid up my arm, possessive and slow, as she turned her attention to Astrid.
"Sister Astrid," she purred, her voice dripping with suggestion, "My Welheim... he's not like other men. He's a healer." Her touch lingered, her nails grazing my skin just enough to make my breath catch.
Astrid's eyes flicked between Irene and me, her expression unreadable for a long moment. There was a tension in her shoulders, a hesitation that wasn't quite resistance.
The air between us crackled, charged with something that felt dangerously close to surrender. Finally, she exhaled, a slow, measured breath, and gave a single, deliberate nod. "If that's what you want..." Her voice was softer now, almost a whisper, but there was a new warmth in her gaze—something that hadn't been there before.
Rúna's voice sliced through the thick silence, sharp and laced with challenge. "You're still calling me 'sister'?" She stepped closer, her body brushing against mine as she tilted her head, her eyes locking onto me with a heat that made my pulse spike. There was no innocence in her gaze, no pretense. Just raw, unfiltered desire.
The air between us was thick with anticipation, electric with the kind of tension that made every breath feel like a spark. I didn't waste words on Rúna.
Instead, I closed the distance between us in two long, predatory strides, my hand finding the soft dip of her waist and pulling her against me.
The moment our bodies collided, a jolt of heat shot through us both. Her breath hitched, her fingers clutching at my shoulders as my lips hovered just above hers, close enough to taste the sweetness of her exhale.
"Rúna," I growled, her name rolling off my tongue like a vow, a warning, a promise of what was to come.
Irene's voice sliced through the tension, smooth and deliberate. "Rúna, darling, let me help you."
Rúna's dark eyes flickered with a mix of nervousness and desire, but she nodded, her lips parting slightly as Irene's fingers began their slow, teasing descent. Irene started with the leaves barely covering Rúna's nipples, plucking them away one by one.
The cool air hit Rúna's exposed skin, and her nipples tightened instantly—small, perfect buds, flushed a deep, inviting pink. They stood erect, begging for attention, the areolas puckered and sensitive. Rúna let out a soft, needy whimper, her back arching slightly as if offering herself up for more.
My cock throbbed painfully in response, straining against my skirt as I watched Irene's hands slide lower. With agonizing slowness, she dragged Rúna's skirt down her thighs, the leaves pooling at her feet.
Rúna stood before us completely bare, her body a masterpiece of soft curves and creamy skin. My gaze raked over her, drinking in every detail—the gentle swell of her hips, the delicate tremor in her thighs, the way her breath came in shallow, desperate gasps.
But it was the sight between her legs that made my pulse roar in my ears. A soft nest of white curls, fine and silken, framed her pussy. The lips were tight and sealed, glistening slightly with arousal, the delicate pink flesh peeking through like a secret waiting to be uncovered. The scent of her—musky, sweet, intoxicating—filled my senses, and I had to clench my jaw to keep from groaning aloud.
Irene guided Rúna onto the stone bed, her body sprawling across the cool surface. The contrast of her warm, flushed skin against the hard stone made her look even more tempting, more edible.
Rúna's thighs fell open slightly, an unconscious invitation, and I could see the faintest hint of moisture gathering between her folds. My cock ached, desperate to be inside her, to feel that heat enveloping me.
Irene turned to me, her voice a dark purr. "Welheim. It's your turn."
I didn't resist as Irene's fingers worked at the fastenings of my skirt, the skirt falling away to reveal my cock, already thick and throbbing in the open air.