Target practice

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With the knife in hand, I turned the corner into the bedroom.

My husband had mounted the elven prince like a dog in heat, both of them turned away from me and none the wiser of my arrival.

"Thank you for the letters," I said by way of greeting.

I don't think I'd seen two males scramble out of a bed faster.

Both stood before me, backs against the bedroom walls and mouths agape while their cocks remained  at attention... they'll be lucky if they haven't shriveled into their balls by the time I was done with them.

"Sheralyn," my husband gasped. "What are you doing here?"

I wanted to ask him the same, but thought against it—I already knew the answer.

Instead, my attention turned towards Thespan. The prince at least had the decency to look ashamed, but whether it was because of what he was doing, who he was doing it with, or that he was caught doing it... I'll never know.

"This was your idea," I accused.

"Leopol did nothing he didn't already want to do," Thespan insisted.

Hearing my husband's name from the elf's mouth was like a catalyst. The knife was flying from my hand before I could truly comprehend the repercussions.

Thespan yelled.

Leopol screamed.

And I...

I only watched.

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