The Heart System

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EVENT FAILED

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Title: Ambush

Reward: ???

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Fuck that event. Dream or not, I'd almost been milked to death. My heart hammered, vision a blur, sweat running off me like it was August instead of frozen outside.

Of course it was a dream. A winged woman? No way. No, no, no. I refused to believe it was real.

But I was the guy who'd had his eyeball eaten by a self-proclaimed goddess. Maybe she was real. Maybe all of it was. My head was a wreck.

"I… I need some air."

As my senses came back, I realized there was a sound playing in the background—something rhythmic I'd tuned out while still dazed. When I focused on it, I traced it to the door.

Swearing under my breath, I tiptoed over and peered through the peephole.

It was just the cleaning lady. She had her headphones on, swaying a little to whatever was blasting through them, completely unaware the end of her mop was thudding against my door with every swipe.

"Jesus Christ…" I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. "Thought I was about to get robbed."

Ugh.

"Fuck the air," I said, turning toward the fridge. "I need a drink."

I cracked open a cold one, checked the locks just to be sure, then sank into the couch. The beer hissed in my hand, and I took a long sip. My nerves were still fried, like my whole body was humming from leftover adrenaline.

What a damn mess.

What. A. Damn. Mess.

—

A few hours later, around ten, I decided a shower might help. Maybe it'd rinse off whatever nightmare residue was still clinging to me. I stripped, stepped into the hot water, and just stood there for a bit, letting the steam blur everything away.

"God…" I muttered, pressing my palms to the tile.

All that dream crap aside, I had real life to worry about. And right now, one name was looping through my head—Delilah.

Delilah-fucking-Komb. The MILF of all MILFs.

Even if she was Ivy's mom, I couldn't help it. The woman knew exactly what she was doing to me.

Maybe this computer repair thing was her way of getting me over?

"No," I told myself, rinsing the shampoo out. "Don't jump to conclusions, Evan. She probably just needs a damn fan replaced."

I finished up, toweled off, got dressed, and fixed my hair in the mirror. A deep breath later, I opened the door—steam billowing out behind me—and checked my phone. No messages from Kim.

Out of boredom, I sat at the table and searched Delilah's profile.

There she was.

Fuck.

Short brown hair, thick thighs, that perfect in-between body—not gym-fit, not chubby—just soft in all the right places. And her tits… Jesus. No wonder I couldn't get her out of my head.

Right then, my phone buzzed. Kim.

I answered. "Hey, Kim. What's up?"

"I'm good," she said, a sly note in her voice. "You still free this morning?"

"Yep. Your place or mine?" I asked, grabbing a glass of water.

"Neither," she said, and I could hear the smirk. "Meet us outside in five minutes. We'll take the car."

"Oh? Where we going?"

"You'll see," she teased. "Byee!"

The call clicked off before I could say anything.

I stared at the screen a second, rubbed the back of my neck, then slipped the phone into my pocket and chugged the rest of my water.

Whatever her plan was, I was in. I needed every damn distraction I could get.

—

Okay, maybe not this kind of distraction. I take back what I said.

We were somewhere on the far side of town, the kind of place I'd only ever visit if I had a very good reason. Nothing but open fields, trees, and dirt roads that looked like they hadn't seen asphalt in decades. Kim's car bounced and rattled over every bump, moving so slow I was pretty sure I could've walked faster.

"You two aren't planning to knock me out and harvest my kidneys, right?" I asked, staring out the window.

"I'm using my Fifth Amendment," Kim said without missing a beat.

After another turn down a road that barely qualified as one, an old villa finally came into view. Big, four stories tall, flanked by two trees so huge they almost looked like they were guarding the place. The front garden had a pool—but it hadn't been cleaned in ages. The water was green, full of leaves, maybe even frogs. Definitely rainwater.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Tom's mother's summer house," Kim said, pulling into the overgrown driveway. "Not that far from the city, really. Took us, what—an hour and a half?"

"So that's why you dragged me out this early," I muttered.

We hopped out. Tom popped open the trunk and started hauling a couple of bags while I looked around. The villa sat on a wide patch of land surrounded by trees, the air thick with that morning chill that bit through your clothes.

"Creepy," I said under my breath. "Kinda cool though."

We walked up to the door, Kim leading the way. The hinges groaned as she pushed it open.

Inside, the place looked like something out of an old movie—massive foyer, high ceilings with wooden beams, an enormous chandelier covered in dust. A long staircase curved up to the second floor, and from where I stood, I could see the railings, old portraits, and several closed doors above.

"Hey," I said, glancing at Kim. "I've got five days off—but I still have some stuff to take care of back in the city."

"You can take my car," she said casually, walking deeper inside. "Handle your business, then come back here."

"Huh… thanks. I'll even fill the tank for you."

"Yeah, do that, but only after you fill me up," she teased. "Now stop standing in the doorway and come in."

I stepped further in, taking it all in. "Wow… I didn't know your mom was this rich, Tom."

He chuckled. "Eh, I wouldn't call it rich. But yeah, she did okay."

The villa's living room looked like something straight out of an American magazine—wide, open, and way too cozy for a place that looked so haunted from the outside. A long Persian rug stretched from the fireplace to a low table, with couches gathered around it in a loose semicircle. The far wall was dominated by a massive mounted TV, probably outdated but still expensive as hell. Behind the couch was a heavy wooden dining table big enough for ten people, with chairs that looked older than any of us.

The open kitchen sat just a few steps away, separated by a marble counter. The appliances gleamed with a faint layer of dust, and a rack of old wine bottles lined the top shelf.

Kim wandered toward the kitchen, humming something under her breath. She reached up, grabbed a bottle of wine, and popped it open with a clean crack. Then she filled two glasses and walked back toward me, her footsteps soft against the rug.

"Close the door already," she said, passing me one of the glasses. "It's freezing."

I shut the door with a click and took the wine, the glass cool in my hand.

"Tom, do you know how to fire this fireplace up?" Kim said, watching as he dropped the bags on the ground with a thump.

"No, never done that before," Tom mumbled.

Kim turned toward me, taking one step closer so her leg brushed against my thigh, right near my cock. "Maybe a real man knows how to fire up one?"

I smiled. "That I can do. Don't worry."

Tom looked at us, and his little dick just gave the faintest twitch under his pants. What the fuck? Getting hard just from this? Guess I'd never understand this whole cuck-play. No way in hell I'd share my woman with someone else.

"I'll need a few things to get it going, Tom," I said, trying to keep my voice casual. "Do you have any kindling—you know, small pieces of dry wood? And we'll need some logs for the main fire."

"Oh, yeah. I think it's all in a basket by the back door," Tom replied, his voice a bit rushed. He hurried to retrieve the items.

Tom brought the basket over. I set my wine glass on the mantle, knelt by the fireplace, and grabbed a handful of the small, dry sticks. I crossed them loosely inside the grate. Next, I crumpled up a piece of newspaper Tom had brought and tucked it beneath the kindling. I took a long, thin match from the box, struck it on the stone, and carefully held the small flame to the paper.

The paper caught quickly, sending a lazy plume of smoke up the chimney. As the paper turned to ash, the kindling began to snap and catch, the flames growing taller and greedier. I waited until the small fire was strong enough, then carefully placed two medium-sized logs on top, making sure not to smother the fire. I struggled a bit, and a few puffs of white smoke came out, but the logs eventually caught. The fire started to roar to life, casting a warm, orange glow across the room.

Kim had been watching the whole process from the back, her eyes curious and approving. As the fire settled into a steady burn, she clapped her hands once, put her glass on the long dinner table, and walked over to hug me tightly.

"Glad I came here with a real man. Or I'd freeze my butt off," she murmured into my neck.

"Yeah," I muttered, my arms going around her, my hand squeezing her ass. "Though even if I couldn't light this thing, I've got a few ideas for how to keep warm."

"Oh?" She pulled back just enough to look at me, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest. "What would that be?"

"Guess you'll have to wait," I smiled.