"...Just wait for me to personally part your legs and check that cunt of yours—"
The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, raw and vicious, fueled by that cocktail of old Emperor memories and my own twisted satisfaction at baiting her.
But as the last syllable hung in the air, I froze.
'Shit.'
I'd let the emotion carry me too far, revealing way more than I intended—not just the taunt, but the undercurrent of dark desire twisted into revenge.
I wanted to fuck her, yeah, but not in the loving way; I wanted to break her, claim her, turn her betrayal into something she begged for.
The typical revenge plot where the heroine begs for forgiveness for whatever she did.
But I'd just broadcast that to everyone within earshot, including my wives.
Had I just... had I really just called out my desire to personally 'check her pussy' while standing in front of my three pregnant wives?
