Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 365: Mira’s Jealous Husband

"This gun..." she whispered, examining it closely, her fingers grazing mine once more—intentionally now. "It belongs to Paul. The very one he lost when—"

I gave a single nod—drawing nearer, so near that the subtle, earthy aroma of her lingering excitement from before blended with the sharp residue of her dried tears on the air.

"I picked it up... while you tended to Paul's wounds," I explained.

Mira shook her head—swiftly, defiantly—yet her gaze darkened, pupils expanding, her breaths quickening noticeably.

"No... You hold onto it. I've already fired your ammunition, and—" Her words faded as she nibbled her lip, her eyes dipping briefly to my lips before snapping back upward.

I raised my hand—deliberately slow and tender—and placed a single finger against her lips, quieting her protest.

She went still—her breath catching sharply, her lips yielding and heated beneath my contact. A faint tremor coursed through her frame, her chest heaving with a profound breath that pushed her breasts more firmly against her top, the tips of her nipples standing out clearly.

Jack's eyes bulged from his hiding spot behind the tree—his form stiffening, hands balling into fists at his hips.

I inched forward a touch more—near enough for my exhaled air to skim her skin, my tone lowering to a hushed, personal whisper that drifted just within Jack's desperate reach to catch pieces.

"Hold onto it," I urged. "It's to keep you secure. It's on me... for tormenting you. For causing you pain in the past. For all the words I uttered, all the actions I took last night. For forcing those unwanted sensations upon you."

Mira's breath stuttered once more—more pronounced this round—her lips parting just a bit under my finger. Her eyelids fluttered—pupils widening even more, a new surge of warmth rising up her neck, painting her cheeks in a vivid, shameful red.

"No..." she murmured against my fingertip, her tone trembling, though her form instinctively tilted toward me, her breasts grazing my arm.

I extended my hand upward—gradually—sweeping her raven locks behind her ear, my fingertips skimming the delicate curve. Her flesh burned—flushed with color—and she quivered openly, a quiet gasp slipping from her mouth. My digits wandered downward—feather-light, provocative—tracing the edge of her throat, sensing her heartbeat thundering beneath my caress.

"You look stunning when that flush colors your face," I breathed, my voice deep and gravelly. "It brings back memories of how you appeared last night... molded to me, your form so yielding, so heated..."

Mira's eyes grew wide—equal parts horrified and stirred. She darted a wary look around—but made no move to retreat.

"Dexter—please stop—" she gasped, yet her voice carried a throaty, yearning edge, her legs squeezing together as the damp warmth reignited in her core.

Jack's features contorted from his concealed position—envy raging in his stare, his posture coiled as if ready to burst forth at any moment.

I cradled her face softly—my thumb stroking her bottom lip.

"Simply take it," I pressed on, my tone gentle yet resolute. "When I instruct you to... why spout all this foolishness? Remember—don't breathe a word to others. They could try to steal it from you... or do something far worse. I won't allow anyone else to lay hands on what belongs to you. What's... under my guard."

Mira gulped heavily—her gaze fixed on mine, her respiration shallow. She inclined her head gradually—nearly against her will.

"I... understand..." she breathed. Then, offering a small, unsteady smile: "You rascal... trying to instruct me now?"

I smirked—subtle and sly—allowing my eyes to drift purposefully to her bosom. Her breasts pushed against the fabric of her shirt—tips rigid and evident, silently pleading for attention.

"You've just matured so much..." I whispered, my stare fixed on the plump, weighty curves, observing their rhythmic lift and drop with her accelerating breaths. "But your mind hasn't caught up... or else you wouldn't have endured my teasing for so long... wouldn't have permitted me to bring you such... pleasure."

Mira's flush intensified once again—face scorching, neck flexing. She lifted her hand—tapping my torso lightly, in jest—but let it rest there, her digits flexing over my ripped shirt, outlining the firm contours of muscle below.

"You rascal..." she exhaled, her voice thick, mortified, and excited. Her fingers drifted southward—unwittingly—skimming the border of my abdominals. "You keep uttering words that leave me... mortified."

She fell silent—clamping down on her lip firmly, her thighs tightening once more.

Then her look gentled—gaze gleaming with a profound emotion.

"Thank you, Dexter..." she murmured. "Truly... thank you. For rescuing Bill. For... returning to us. For letting me feel... protected."

I smiled—softly this time.

"No worries," I replied. "Head back now... or your husband might suspect you're straying from him." I gestured faintly toward the foliage. "He could come after me..."

Mira's eyes expanded—new embarrassment washing over her features. She whirled about—scanning the dim areas—but Jack had already slipped further into cover, pulse racing, hands gripped, expression warped in muted anger.

She faced me again—face aflame, mouth agape.

"I—I didn't—we didn't—" she stuttered, but her body shifted closer once more, her breasts rubbing my arm, the peaks trailing against me in a manner that drew a soft inhale from her.

I moved in nearer—proximity such that her breasts contacted my torso anew, the hardened points scraping through our clothing. She inhaled quietly—eyelids batting.

"Return now," I whispered, tone low and playful. "Before he imagines something graver... like your desire for my touch at this very instant."

Mira's breath snagged—acute, desperate. Her legs chafed together without thought, the moisture in her center intensifying.

"Dexter—" she breathed, a mix of denial and entreaty.

I slid my thumb along her jaw—leisurely, closely.

"Or perhaps linger a bit more," I taunted, my voice sinking deeper. "Allow me to demonstrate my true remorse... using my hands... my lips..."

Her nipples stiffened even more—plainly outlining against her shirt—her frame quaking.

Jack—remaining out of sight—observed every moment, resentment seething within.

Mira at last withdrew—unsteady, stimulated, ashamed.

"I—I need to leave," she panted, though her gaze hung on my lips, my build, prior to pivoting and rushing away—her hips swinging, rear bouncing faintly with every hurried, agitated stride.

Jack lingered until her departure—then emerged from the tree's shadow.

His expression stormed—jaw locked, stare aflame with scarcely restrained wrath.

He fixed his eyes on me.

I held his look—composed, unwavering, faintly entertained.

Not a single word escaped him.

He simply pivoted and trailed Mira toward the camp—posture unyielding, hands fisted, thoughts surely swirling with visions of my palms on his spouse, my digit on her mouth, my phrases igniting her flushes and trembles.

I grinned—leisurely, to myself.

Discord sown.

Jealousy nurtured.

And Mira?

Mira belonged to me already—profoundly beyond Jack's grasp.

This evening, as the rest slumbered...

She would seek me out.

Pleading.

Flushing.

Soaked.

And I would refresh her memory—deliberately, completely—of precisely whose she had become.

I shifted my persistent erection—smirking at the woodland.

The daylight persisted.

And the excitement had only just started.