Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 390: Jack Slaps Mira—Divorce Follows

She was clinging to me like I was the only solid thing left in her world—arms locked, thighs squeezing, breasts pillowed and dragging in that maddening, rhythmic tease.

And soon, when Jack demanded answers, when he saw her walking perfectly fine—no limp, no swelling, no mark at all on that "injured" ankle—she would stammer the same story:

"It twisted... Dexter had to carry me... I couldn’t walk..."

He would look at her flushed cheeks, at the way she avoided his eyes, at the memory (or the rumor) of her body wrapped around mine like this—breasts crushed to my back, thighs locked around my waist, moaning softly into my neck—and every denial would sound like a lie.

Because how could a woman with a truly sprained ankle press herself so completely, so shamelessly, against another man and still claim innocence?

She couldn’t.

And she wouldn’t have to.

When the shouting started—when Jack’s jealousy finally snapped—she would run to the only place that still felt safe.

To me.

I shifted my grip under her thighs, palms sliding a fraction higher so my fingers dug gently into the plush curve where thigh met ass, lifting her just enough to change the angle.

Her breasts dragged upward again—slower this time, more deliberate—nipples catching and catching until I felt her shiver hard against me.

"Almost there," I murmured, lips close enough to her ear that my breath stirred the fine hairs along her temple. "Just hold on to me, Mira. I’ve got you."

She answered with a small, broken sound—half whimper, half sigh—and buried her face against the side of my neck. Her lips brushed skin accidentally—or maybe not—and I felt the wet heat of her open-mouthed exhale.

Her tits flattened harder, nipples like little points of fire now, scraping with every breath I took.

I smiled into the darkness, the low, satisfied curl of my lips hidden against the night as Mira’s warm, trembling body clung to me like a second skin.

Her full, heavy breasts were still pressed flush against my upper back, the soft, pillowy flesh molding and shifting with every slow step I took. Each gentle sway of my stride dragged her stiff nipples in slow, teasing circles across my shoulder blades.

The friction was constant, maddening, delicious. I could feel the rapid flutter of her heartbeat thumping straight into my spine, her thighs squeezing tighter around my waist every time a fresh wave of shame or arousal rolled through her.

Soon, the shadowed path opened onto the brightly lit lawn. Lanterns swung overhead, casting golden light across the gathered guests. The moment we stepped into the glow, every head turned.

Eyes widened. Conversations died mid-sentence. Phones were already coming out.

Angela and Lisa broke from the crowd first, skirts fluttering as they ran toward me.

"Dexter... you’re back!" Angela called, relief bright in her voice — until her gaze slid past my shoulder and locked on Mira, still wrapped around me like a lover. Her mouth fell open. Lisa stopped dead, one hand flying to her lips, eyes huge.

Mira’s arms tightened around my neck in panic. Her cheek burned hot against the side of my throat as she whispered, voice shaking and breathless, "Dexter... put me down... please..."

I didn’t obey right away. I let my hands slide possessively higher under her soft thighs, fingers digging gently into the warm flesh just beneath the curve of her ass, holding her there a few extra seconds so everyone could see exactly how intimately she was clinging to me. Only then did I bend my knees and ease her down until her bare feet touched the grass.

She wobbled for half a second out of habit, then straightened too quickly — realizing too late that her "injured" ankle felt perfectly fine. Her coat had slipped off one shoulder again, exposing the flushed skin of her collarbone and the faint outline of her still-hard nipples pressing against her coat.

Heavy footsteps thundered across the lawn.

Jack was storming toward us, face twisted with rage, fists clenched at his sides. Bill followed close behind, pale and furious.

Jack stopped a foot from Mira, barely, breathing hard, reeking of whiskey.

"You fucking slut," he snarled, voice loud enough for the entire lawn to hear. "Do you have any shame left in that worthless body of yours? Are you still going to stand here and deny it? I was a blind fucking idiot to marry a cock-hungry whore who spreads her legs for a boy half her age — my own son’s friend!"

A shocked ripple ran through the crowd. Someone gasped. A woman whispered, "Oh my Go,d" loud enough to carry.

Bill stepped forward, voice cracking with disgust. "Mom... I didn’t expect you to be like this. I really didn’t."

Mira’s face crumpled. Tears flooded her eyes instantly. She shook her head frantically, hands fluttering uselessly in front of her as she tried to explain.

"I-it’s not... it’s n-not like that, Jack," she stammered, voice high and broken, words tumbling over each other. "M-my ankle... it twisted so badly... it was swollen, I c-couldn’t even put weight on it... D-Dexter was just helping me... he was worried we wouldn’t make it back before it got completely dark... that’s all, I swear... please, you have to believe me..."

No one believed a single word.

Jack’s face twisted into something ugly. Without warning, his hand cracked across her cheek in a vicious slap — the sound sharp and wet, echoing across the silent lawn like a gunshot.

Mira’s head snapped to the side. A bright red handprint bloomed instantly across her pale skin, the imprint of his fingers stark and livid. She staggered, one hand flying up to cradle her burning cheek, a small, broken whimper escaping her lips.

Even I — who had planned every step of this — felt a flicker of genuine surprise at how hard he had hit her.

"Bitch!" Jack roared, leaning in so close that spittle flecked her tear-streaked face.

"How fucking shameless can you be? You two sneaked off together, fucked like animals the whole time we were all sitting here like fools, and now you’re still lying to my face? You’ve been whoring yourself out to this boy while I was blind! Have you not thought of your own children even once?!"

He jabbed a thick finger toward me, eyes blazing with pure hatred.

"Then I divorce you, Mira!" he bellowed, voice cracking with fury. "Right now, in front of everyone — I divorce you, you worthless slut! You don’t deserve to be my wife. You’re nothing but a cheap, desperate whore!"