100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids

Chapter 689: Chapter 688- Vivian’s Curious About Something

The throne room of Millbrook’s main palace smelled like roses and sweat.

The hall was enormous. Stone pillars lined the walls, each one carved with Catorian crestwork that Viktor had never bothered to replace. Iron chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, their candles lit, casting warm amber light across the polished marble floor. The throne itself sat on a raised dais at the far end. Carved from a single block of dark oak, reinforced with iron bands, wide enough for two people, currently occupied by one man and two women.

Viktor sat with his back against the carved wood. His legs were spread. His shirt was open, hanging from his shoulders, the fabric pulled aside to expose the lean muscle of his chest and the defined ridges of his abdomen. His pants were gone. Somewhere. Discarded. His cock hung between his thighs, soft for the moment, resting against his inner leg like a sleeping serpent.

Bella sat on his left thigh. Kaida sat on his right.

Bella’s silver hair fell past her shoulders, the strands catching the candlelight like liquid mercury. Her cat-kin ears, flat and tufted, twitched with each sound. Her tail, puffed and lazy, curled around Viktor’s calf. Her body was petite. Small frame, narrow waist, the kind of build that made her look delicate despite the fact that she had once killed men for coin. Her dress was a light cotton gown, cream-colored, low-cut. The neckline was already generous. Viktor had made it more generous by pulling the edge down, his hand inside the fabric, his fingers wrapped around her left breast.

Kaida was on his other side. Red-haired, the color of autumn fire, cropped short at her jaw. Her body was lean and athletic, the muscles of a mercenary softened slightly by pregnancy. Her belly was round. Not as large as Helena’s had been, but prominent. Her dress was similar to Bella’s, a cotton gown in dark blue. Viktor’s right hand was inside her neckline, his fingers cupping her breast, his thumb pressing against her nipple through the fabric.

Both women were gasping.

"Nnh—" Bella’s breath was warm against his ear. Her small body flinched each time his fingers moved. His hand inside her dress was kneading the soft flesh, his palm pressing the mound flat, his fingers sinking into the tissue. Her breast was handful. Not large, but full for her frame. The nipple, stiff and pink, scraped against his palm with each movement.

"Your hands are cold," Bella whispered. The complaint was half-hearted. Her body pressed into his hand. Her hips shifted on his thigh. Her tail tightened around his calf.

"Liar," Viktor said. His thumb found her nipple. Pinched. "You’re wet."

Bella’s face went crimson. The blush traveled from her cheeks to her neck to the exposed upper swell of her breast. Her cat-kin ears flattened further. Her tail puffed.

"I am not," she said. The denial was breathless. Unconvincing.

His fingers released her nipple. Moved. Slid down. Over the curve of her breast, beneath the fabric, toward the underside. His fingertips found the soft, warm skin beneath the mound. He lifted. The breast deformed in his hand, the flesh rising, the nipple pointing upward. He squeezed. The milk ducts, activated by the Wife Package system, responded. A thin bead of fluid appeared on the nipple tip.

Bella’s breath hitched. Her thighs pressed together.

’He knows exactly what he’s doing,’ she thought. Her silver eyes, half-lidded, found his face. The jaw. The smirk. The casual, ’I-am-playing-with-your-body-and-you-love-it’ expression that made her stomach flip. ’And I let him. Every time. I just let him.’

On his other side, Kaida’s gasps were different.

"Ah—! Damn it, not so hard—" Kaida’s voice was rough. The mercenary’s growl, softened by arousal but still carrying the edge. Her red hair swayed as her body flinched. Viktor’s hand inside her dress was less gentle than with Bella. He gripped. Full palm. The breast, larger than Bella’s, fuller from the pregnancy, was being massaged with firm, possessive pressure. His fingers dug into the flesh. The tissue compressed. Milk beaded on her nipple.

"You’re rough," Kaida said. Her teeth were clenched. But her hips were moving. Grinding. Her pregnant belly pressed against his side as her body unconsciously sought more contact. "Always so damn rough with me."

"You like it rough," Viktor said.

"I do NOT—"

His thumb pressed her nipple. Hard. The milk squirted. A thin, white stream that hit the inside of her dress and ran down the fabric.

Kaida’s mouth opened. The word she had been forming dissolved. Her green eyes, the Catorian family’s trademark green, went wide. Then half-lidded. Her body shuddered.

"I don’t," she whispered. The denial was so transparent that even Bella, on his other side, turned her head and gave her a look.

’He’s doing it again,’ Kaida thought. Her mind was foggy. The sensation of his hand on her breast, the pressure, the milk leaking, was sending signals straight down her body. Her pussy was clenching. The fabric of her undergarment was soaked. She could feel the wetness between her thighs, the slippery warmth that her body produced every time he touched her. ’Every damn time. One touch and I’m melting. I was a mercenary. I killed people. I was strong. And now his hand on my boob turns me into a puddle.’

’I hate him.’

’I love him.’

’I hate that I love him.’

Below the throne, on her knees, Vivian worked.

The elf knelt between Viktor’s spread legs. Her green hair fell past her shoulders, the color of spring leaves, the strands silky and fine. Her body was thick. Chubby, in the way that elven women sometimes were when their metabolism favored curves over leanness. Her breasts were large. Heavy. The kind that required support from her dress, the fabric straining to contain them. Her hips were wide. Her thighs were full. Her ass, beneath the gown, was round and soft. Her belly, pregnant and prominent, rested against her thighs as she knelt.

Her face was at his crotch. Her emerald eyes looked upward. Past his cock, past his abdomen, to his face. The face of the man who had claimed her. Who had fucked her daughter. Who was currently groping two other women while she knelt below and serviced him.

Her tongue was on his balls.

’Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.’ The sound was wet. Deliberate. Vivian’s tongue, long and dexterous in the way that elven tongues were, ran along the underside of his sac. She licked the skin. Tasted salt. Sweat. The faint, musky flavor of male arousal. Her lips found the left testicle. Sucked it into her mouth. The orb was heavy on her tongue. She rolled it. Her cheeks hollowed.

"Mmm—" she moaned. The vibration traveled through his sac, through the tissue, into his groin. The sound was soft. Appreciative. The ’I-am-enjoying-this’ moan of a woman who had accepted her place.

Viktor looked down. At the green-haired elf. At the emerald eyes looking up at him. At the full lips wrapped around his ball. At the chubby, pregnant body kneeling on the marble floor.

"Do you want to ask something?" he asked. The question was casual. Amused. The tone of a man who already knew the answer.