The first thing Kael noticed about Mrs. Delacroix wasn't the way her bikini strings dug into the soft flesh of her hips, or how the sunlight made the sweat on her lower back glisten—it was the way she held her cigarette.
Between two fingers, elbow propped up, wrist limp like she couldn't be bothered to lift it any higher. She exhaled smoke through her nose without moving, eyes half-lidded, as if the act of breathing was its own kind of luxury.
"You gonna stand there all day, kid?" Mr. Delacroix's voice carried over the sound of the waves, gruff but amused.
He was sprawled on his own lounger, belly rising and falling beneath his unbuttoned linen shirt, watching Kael with the lazy interest of a man who knew he could afford anything. Including the attention of his bodyguard.
Kael adjusted his sunglasses. "Just waiting for orders, sir."
Mrs. Delacroix stretched, arching her back just enough to make the strings of her bikini top strain.
"He's polite," she murmured, flicking ash onto the sand. "I like that."
"Polite's boring," her husband said, but he was grinning. "C'mon, Kael. You've been staring at her ass since we got here. Tell me what you really think."
Kael kept his hands loose at his sides, but his fingers twitched once—a tell he hadn't shaken since his boxing days.
Mrs. Delacroix's ass was impressive, round and full under the flimsy fabric of her bikini bottom, but admitting that out loud was a different game.
"She's got the kind of body that makes men stupid, sir," he said, tone neutral. "Which is why you pay me not to be."
Mr. Delacroix barked a laugh, his mustache quirking. "Smart answer. But not the one I asked for." He took a long sip from his sweating cocktail glass, ice clinking. "Hypothetically. If I told you to fuck her right now, would you?"
The cigarette between Mrs. Delacroix's fingers stilled. She didn't turn her head, but Kael caught the way her shoulders tensed—just for a second—before she exhaled smoke through her nose again.
Kael shifted his weight, the hot sand gritty under his feet. "Hypothetically?"
He let his gaze drag down Mrs. Delacroix's spine, slow, deliberate. "Yeah. I would."
Her husband's grin widened. "Good man." He tipped his glass toward his wife. "Lina, turn over. Let him get a proper look at you."
Mrs. Delacroix—Lina—stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray beside her lounger with deliberate slowness. She rolled onto her back, the movement effortless, practiced.
The sun caught the sweat beading between her tits as she arched her spine just enough to make the fabric of her bikini top strain. Kael could see the dark outline of her nipples beneath the thin material, already stiffening.
"Happy?" she murmured, tilting her chin up at her husband.
"Getting there," Mr. Delacroix chuckled, his gaze flicking between them like a spectator at a tennis match.
He swirled his drink, ice clinking. "Kael, why don't you put those hands to work? Lina's been complaining about her shoulders all morning."
Kael didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, the heat of the sun on his shoulders fading as he knelt beside her lounger. The scent of coconut oil and salt clung to her skin.
He squeezed a generous dollop of sunscreen into his palm, rubbing his hands together to warm it. "Where do you want me to start, ma'am?"
Her lips curved. "Wherever you think needs attention."
He pressed his thumbs into the meat of her shoulders first, working the tension out with slow, firm circles. Her skin was warm under his hands, the muscles tight but yielding as he dug in.
A soft sigh escaped her, her head lolling to the side. "Christ," she muttered. "You're good at this."
Kael's hands moved down her spine with deliberate pressure, fingers spreading the slick sunscreen over the dip of her lower back.
Mrs. Delacroix—Lina—arched slightly into his touch, a quiet hum vibrating in her throat. Her husband watched, sipping his drink, fingers drumming against the condensation on the glass.
"You ever give massages professionally?" Mr. Delacroix asked, voice rough with amusement.
"Just for fun," Kael said, his thumbs pressing into the dimples above her ass. The bikini strings there were thin enough that his pinky brushed against the edge of the fabric. Lina's breath hitched, just slightly.
Her husband noticed. "She likes that," he said, grinning. "Don't you, baby?"
Lina exhaled through her nose, lashes fluttering. "Mm. He's got strong hands."
Kael's hands moved lower, fingertips skimming the top edge of her bikini bottom where the fabric met the swell of her ass.
The heat of her skin radiated through the thin material, and when his thumb brushed against the strip of bare flesh just above the waistband, Lina's hips twitched—subtle, involuntary.
Kael smirked, pressing his palm flat against the small of her back, fingers splayed. "You're tense here," he murmured, voice low enough that only she could hear.
Mr. Delacroix chuckled, swirling his drink. "She's always tense. Needs a good fucking to loosen up."
Lina shot him a look over her shoulder, but there was no real heat in it. Just amusement, and something darker—something hungry. Kael caught it. So did her husband.
Kael's fingers slipped under the edge of her bikini bottom, slow, deliberate. The fabric slid easily over the curve of her ass, exposing the soft, sun-warmed skin beneath.
Lina didn't tense. Didn't stop him. Just exhaled, long and slow, as his fingertips traced the crease where her thigh met her cheek.
"You're gonna make me jealous," Mr. Delacroix said, but he was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, watching with rapt attention.
Kael's fingers didn't stop. They traced lower, dipping into the hot, slick cleft of Lina's ass, and she spread her legs just enough to let him.
Her breath stuttered when his thumb brushed over her asshole—light, teasing—before sliding further down to where her pussy lips glistened under the sunlight. The scent of her arousal mixed with salt and sunscreen, thick enough to taste.
"Fuck," Lina breathed, hips lifting off the lounger as Kael's fingers found her clit. He circled it slowly, the pad of his thumb dragging just enough friction to make her toes curl into the sand.
Mr. Delacroix leaned closer, his drink forgotten. "Tell me how wet she is," he demanded, voice rough.
Kael smirked, pressing two fingers flat against her slit, gathering her slick.
"Dripping," he said, holding his glistening fingers up for her husband to see. Lina moaned, low and throaty, when he pushed those fingers inside her without warning, curling them just right.
Her husband groaned, palming himself through his shorts. "Christ, look at her."
Lina's back arched, her tits straining against her bikini top as Kael's fingers fucked into her with slow, deep strokes. The sound of her pussy taking him was obscenely loud—wet, squelching noises punctuated by her gasps.
Lina's thighs trembled as Kael worked her pussy with his fingers, her hips jerking against his hand with every curl of his knuckles inside her.
Her husband's breath came faster now, his fingers gripping the arms of his lounger as he watched Kael's fingers disappear into his wife. "Jesus," he muttered, shaking his head. "You're fucking her better than I ever could."
Kael didn't reply, just focused on the way Lina's cunt clenched around his fingers, her body tightening like a coiled spring.
He added a third finger, stretching her wider, and her moan punched out of her, raw and unfiltered. Her nails dug into the lounger's padding, her back arching off it as she fucked herself back onto his hand.
"God—fuck—don't stop—" she gasped, her voice breaking.
Mr. Delacroix stood abruptly, his drink tipping over onto the sand. He didn't seem to notice.
"I want to see you fuck her," he said, voice rough. "Properly. Now."
Kael pulled his fingers out slowly, watching Lina's pussy flutter around nothing, glistening with her arousal.
She whined at the loss, twisting to look at him over her shoulder, her eyes dark and desperate. "Please," she breathed, and that was all the encouragement he needed.
He stood, shucking his shorts in one smooth motion. His cock sprang free, already hard and leaking precum, the head flushed dark.
Lina's gaze dropped to it instantly, her lips parting.
"Oh," she whispered, like she hadn't expected him to be that big. Her husband made a choked sound behind them, but Kael didn't look at him—just gripped Lina's hips and flipped her onto her back in one motion.
Kael didn't bother with foreplay now—Lina was already dripping, her pussy swollen and eager, the scent of her arousal thick in the humid air.
He dragged the head of his cock through her slick folds, watching her thighs tremble as he teased her. "Look at you," he muttered, thumbing her clit just once, making her jerk. "Fucking soaked."
Mr. Delacroix dropped back into his lounger with a grunt, his own erection straining against his shorts. "Christ," he breathed, rubbing himself through the fabric. "Put it in her already."
Kael smirked and lined himself up, pressing forward in one slow, relentless push.
Lina's back arched off the lounger, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp as he stretched her wide. Her pussy clenched around him, hot and tight, and Kael groaned through his teeth, gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks.
"Fuck," he gritted out, pausing when he was fully seated, letting her adjust. "You take it so good."
Lina's fingers scrabbled against the padding of the lounger, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Move," she demanded, her voice shaky. "God, move—"
"Move away!"
"Huh? What?"
Kael blinked, momentarily confused, as if he had misheard something. But Mrs. Delacroix—Lina—looked back at him sharply and repeated herself.
"Move away!"
And then—
Her body began to dissolve.
The scene around him started to shift, the world breaking apart like mist under sunlight. Kael watched as everything faded, the lounger, the beach, the very air itself vanishing before his eyes.
Before he could even understand what was happening, the voice came again.
"Hey! Move away! You're too close!"
Suddenly Kael jolted awake.
He found himself in a completely different place—or at least he wished that were the case. But once he looked around properly, he could only let out a tired sigh.
Fuck. Another one of those dreams.
He cursed inwardly.
Memories from his past life kept returning in his dreams, fragments of a world that felt both familiar and distant. And the life he had now was nothing like the one he had before.
Right now, he was crammed inside a rattling carriage along with a group of slaves being transported to an auction.
The rhythmic creaking of the wheels filled the air, mixing with the thick smell of sweat that hung heavily inside the enclosed space.
The other slaves looked more like poor farmers than fighters—thin, exhausted men with collars around their necks. Compared to them, Kael stood out.
Thankfully, his face was covered by a special kind of enchanted sack meant to conceal identities. But even with that disguise, his broad frame made him impossible to ignore.
He might not have been considered especially large among gladiators, but here—surrounded by frail, starving farmers—his body looked massive. He took up more space than anyone else, making the cramped carriage feel even tighter.
Kael glanced at the man who had just shouted at him.
He shifted slightly to the side.
"Sorry."
The farmer grumbled under his breath but didn't press the issue. Instead, he closed his eyes, trying to catch some sleep during the miserable journey.
Kael leaned back against the hard wooden wall of the carriage and looked up at the ceiling.
His thoughts drifted to his current life.
Haah… really, why? Why did I end up in this world?
He couldn't understand how his luck had turned so badly.
Back in his old world, he had been living well enough. He worked as a mercenary bodyguard for wealthy couples who wanted to go on adventurous trips—trips that often included him as part of the arrangement.
The husbands watching their wives moan beneath him had simply been part of the job.
And now?
Now he wore a collar and shackles, being hauled away to be sold like property—after spending most of his life fighting for survival inside a deadly arena.
He shook his head slowly.
Let's just hope my new master doesn't work me to death.
With that thought, Kael closed his eyes again, hoping to get a little rest.
And maybe—just maybe—
Continue the dream from where it had left off.
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