Claiming the Merchant's Wife in Their Bed
While he was out cold, I went for it. "Honey, you should sleep inside, you know."
Stewart swayed this way and that under Margaret's touch, reeking of booze sharp enough to sting my nose. Even though her tone was the caring wife fretting over her drunk husband, the way she grabbed my hand with one of hers made it hilariously ambiguous—was she talking about her husband or me?
"Sleep... inside, right? Honey."
As I bantered back with Stewart, Margaret—clearly prepared for this exact scenario—swept her damp brown hair behind her ear and flashed a smile. She flapped the cardigan draped over her shoulders, thrusting out her ample tits at me. I let out a chuckle, then hoisted up Stewart, who was about to face-plant into the table, and stood from my seat.
Fucking sucks, but gotta play along.
His drunken staggering sent chills down my spine, but I followed Margaret's giggling ass out of the dining room and toward the couple's bedroom. Swoosh. As my hand brushed over Stewart's body, whatever scraps of consciousness he had left evaporated—his lower half went limp in an instant, slumping over my shoulder like a corpse.
I'd been a bit nervous since this was my first time paralyzing someone with pressure points, but the perfect reaction had me nodding in satisfaction.
Pro like me handles this shit easy. Heh.
His floppy legs swinging helplessly dredged up memories of when Geom-ma had kidnapped me—my lips pursed involuntarily. I'd kept a straight face back then, but damn, I'd been tense as hell...
Fuck. Come to think of it, I never got revenge on that bastard.
Dokgo Hwaryeon, who'd ordered the snatch, was already begging for forgiveness every time we fucked, wailing like a bitch—so no extra measures needed there. But Geom-ma? That fucker had fed me garbage the whole trip and flown at full speed without a shred of care for his passenger.
Anger surged unbidden; I clenched my fist and vowed silently.
Next time I'm in the murim world, I'm fucking his daughter raw.
The thought made me tilt my head—wouldn't Geom-ma actually like that? But against a Fire Realm master, this was the best revenge I could swing anyway. No choice.
As I schemed that out while trailing Margaret, we reached a room with a hefty wooden door, and she halted.
"Right here, honey."
Still mindful of Stewart's lingering awareness, she kept up the sweet wifely act in her words alone. Creeeak. Licking her lips in anticipation of what was coming, she flung the door wide, revealing the couple's secret lair.
A wine table set up for sweet vibes, a bed big enough for three to sprawl comfortably, and beside it, a finely crafted wooden rocking chair. The whole setup had my lips curling despite myself.
This guy's a total simp, huh?
The wine table could just be for pre-bed drinks, and the oversized bed might suit their sleeping habits or tastes. But a rocking chair—something that belonged by the living room fireplace—parked right next to the bed? Suspicion turned to certainty.
Its angle and position screamed prime seat for waking up first and watching his sleeping wife. The image in my head of their dynamic had my smirk widening naturally.
"Things usually awkward between you and Stewart?"
I carefully set him down in the rocking chair that looked like his favorite spot and turned. Margaret flinched, worried he'd wake, but relaxed at my reassuring gesture and spoke up.
"Well... not awkward, exactly. He's just not much for talk outside business stuff."
"That's why you seduced me?"
She'd already ditched the cardigan; now in sheer nightclothes that teased glimpses of skin, she faced me. My eyes, already glued to her voluptuous tits and curvy hips, locked onto her unexpectedly slim waist—blood rushed south, thickening my pants.
"To try something different?"
I stripped off my clothes to match her for the main event, shooting her a playful glare. The masculine edge she never got from her merchant hubby made her throat bob with a gulp.
"H-he messes around with secretaries and shit, so why can't I?"
"Stewart does?"
Her cheating story threw me for a loop; I cocked my head.
"Comes home later and later, different perfume every time... Matches what my friend said about her affair exactly. Don't know for sure, but the signs are clear."
I eyed her sparkling gaze; she nodded with hesitant conviction. Looked just like a classic gullible mark suckered by someone's scheme or whisper.
Did some other receptionist or bitch plant wind in her ear?
I glanced at Stewart, slumped deep in the chair, then nodded. Guild star receptionist, rich hubby, even subtle trust from the guild master. Margaret was a jealousy magnet. My mind spun up a full soap opera plot.
A woman's enemy is another woman? Heh. Music to my ears.
Whoever orchestrated this was an idiot, but a bitter smirk escaped me anyway. Women's enemy is women? Bullshit. Even if she got tossed around like now, a woman like Margaret was leagues above them.
Kicked from a rich merchant's arms? Straight into a capable adventurer's like mine. Not an adventurer? Clerk and side-chick in some noble house. Even sold as a slave? She'd snag a spot bathed in a high-ranker's love.
Pretty and capable bitches take zero damage from rivals, you dumb sluts.
Snickering at the amateur plot holes, I fixed her with lust-filled eyes.
Board was set perfectly; no point kicking it over to dig up truth—that'd be pure loss for me.
"So, how many guys have you reeled in like this?"
"R-reel in? This is the first time it's gone this smooth..."
"Huh? Looked pro-level to me."
Her confidence dipped from the opener; she mumbled. I tilted my head, and she sighed deeply before answering.
"I'm used to acting for work, y'know? And like I said, you're the first it's worked this well with. He's got such a jealous streak while fucking around himself. Ugh."
"But why crave this?"
"W-women have needs too. He's always too tired from work to care..."
"Heh. Bottled up, huh?"
"Y-yeah. Hnng."
Her seduction skills screamed experience, so I'd worried about sloppy seconds—but that eased up. I pulled her into my arms proper, kneading her firm ass.
Taut with nerves, she twitched like a baby bird—was this really just acting? Her novice vibes leaking through had my lips curling.
"Any experience besides hubby?"
I massaged her ass like dough, leaned in, and nibbled her earlobe. Her neck hairs stood on end from my low whisper and breath. Bonus: her legs buckled, dumping her weight into me.
Hnn. N-no. Haa.
Her near-mint declaration had me shoving her onto the bed.
Meanwhile, my eyes flicked to Stewart, who'd left this ripe fruit to rot.
What's the point of owning if you don't maintain? Should've aftercared too, dumbass.
Women are like cars. Polish and tune 'em up, sure—but most crucial is breaking 'em in. Pamper too much, they look fine outside but rot inside. Ride 'em often, tweak to your taste—best ride ever, car or woman.
Oh, and premium fuel too. Heh.
Riiip! Grinning, I shredded her nightclothes. Oblivious to Stewart's state, she stifled a moan. Eyes trembling with tension, but hands clamped over her mouth to steady her excited breaths.
I stripped naked. Thud. My cock sprang free from my pants—leagues beyond Stewart's obvious micro-dick. Margaret's eyes bugged out over her hands.
Seizing the daze from my torso down to my dick, I snuck a potion from inventory, popped the cap, and slathered it on thick.
Regular human, no beastkin—better safe than sorry.