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

Chapter 736: Chapter 735- A Blessing of Pregnancy

"The merchants who are evacuating," he said, his voice steady despite the throat-fucking, "will not have access. Only you. You will have the exclusive route. Through Catorian territory. Through the northern pass."

Her eyes, rolled back, flickered. The words, cutting through the fog of the throat-fucking, registered. The ’he-is-offering-me-a-trade-route’ realization that was so absurd, so impossible, so ’why-is-he-telling-me-this-while-his-cock-is-in-my-throat’ that her brain struggled to process it.

"No tax," he continued. "From me. You can claim there is a tax. Charge more from the common people. The profit is yours."

"Gah—♡! Gah—♡!"

Her internal thoughts were chaos. ’What? What is he saying? A trade route? From Millbrook? Direct? No tax? He is giving me— why? Why is he favoring me? He humiliated me. He pissed inside me. He is fucking my throat. And he is offering me— the most profitable trade deal I have ever heard of—’

’Why?’

’What does he want?’

’What does he—’

He pulled out. The cock, emerging from her throat, was slick with saliva. The shaft, glistening, dripped. The head, dark and swollen, was at her eye level. She gasped. Coughed. The air, rushing into her freed throat, was cold. Her throat, raw and sore, ached. Her jaw, stretched, was numb.

He lifted her. His hands, under her arms, raised her from the tub’s edge. Her body, dripping, rose. Her legs, weak, dangled. He held her. At eye level. His face, calm and handsome and devastating, was inches from hers.

"Your pussy," he said, "is so tight that I might just give you—"

She trembled. The ’what-is-he-going-to-give-me’ fear that was also, horrifyingly, anticipation.

"—a blessing."

He kissed her. The kiss, sudden and deep, was on her mouth. The same mouth that had just been on his cock. The same mouth that had tasted his cum and his piss and her own throat. He kissed her. His tongue, entering her mouth, found hers. The taste, the combined flavor of everything they had done, was shared between them.

’His cock was in my mouth,’ she thought, the horror mixing with the arousal. ’What is he doing? This is dirty. Vulgar. He should not kiss a mouth that has been on his—’

’But he is kissing me.’

’Why?’

’Why is he—’

He spread her legs. Against the bath. Her back, pressed against the marble wall beside the tub, was cold. The stone, slick with condensation, was smooth. Her legs, lifted by his hands, were wrapped around his hips. Locked. Her ankles, crossed behind his back, pulled him closer.

He entered her. Again. The cock, the full twelve inches this time, drove in. The stretch, the ’he-is-inside-me-again’ stretch, was familiar now. Not less overwhelming. But familiar. Her body, accepting, yielded. The walls, wet and swollen, gripped.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

"Ah—♡ ah—♡ ah—♡" The moans, quiet and defeated, came with each thrust. Her body, the mature body that had been fought and fucked and pissed in and cum in, was his. Her hands, untied now, found his shoulders. Gripped. Her nails, manicured and sharp, dug in. Drew blood. The red crescents on his skin joined the others.

He fucked her against the wall. The rhythm, the PAH PAH PAH of flesh on wet flesh, was steady. Not the brutal marathon pace. The ’I-am-enjoying-you’ pace. Each thrust, deep and deliberate, was a statement. A claim.

The bathroom, filled with steam and the smell of sex and lavender, echoed with their sounds. The PAH of impact. The AAAAHH of her moans. The squelch of cock in cunt. The drip-drip of water from their bodies onto the marble floor.

He carried her. Out of the bathroom. His cock, still inside her, held her as he walked. Her legs, wrapped around his hips, were locked. Her arms, around his neck, held. Her face, buried in his shoulder, was hidden.

The hallway. The bodies. The three women, Berenga and Evriana and Lucia, were where they had fallen. On the floor. On the stone. Asleep. Unconscious. Their naked bodies, sprawled and tangled, were visible in the candlelight. The cum, dried on their skin, was white against pale and grey flesh.

Myra was in the bathroom doorway. Where she had collapsed. Her body, face-down on the marble, was still. Her ass, red and marked, was in the air. Her black hair, spread around her head, was a dark halo. The cum, leaking from her pussy, had pooled beneath her.

Viktor walked past them. Carrying Veilera. Into the bedroom. The bed, the silk sheets still ruined from the earlier activities, received them. He laid her down. On her back. Her body, wet and trembling, sank into the soft fabric. The silk, cool against her heated skin, was a relief.

He positioned himself. Over her. Missionary. Her body, beneath his, was pinned. Her hands, above her head, were held by his. One hand, large enough to grip both her wrists, pinned them. Her breasts, pressed against his chest, were flattened. The nipples, stiff, scraped his skin.

Her eyes, rolling, found his face. The green eyes. The sharp jaw. The expression that was simultaneously a god and a devil.

She did not care. The thought, the ’I-do-not-care-where-I-am-or-what-he-is-doing’ surrender, was complete. Her body, fucked past exhaustion, past dignity, past resistance, was a vessel. Her pussy, stretched and raw and full, was his. Her moans, soft and continuous, were his. Her body, limp and trembling, was his.

He fucked her.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

"Ah—♡ ah—♡ ah—♡"

The pace was gentle. Not the brutal marathon. Not the throat-fucking rhythm. The ’I-am-making-love-to-you’ pace that was more devastating than any brutality. Each thrust, deep and slow, was a statement. Each withdrawal, deliberate, was a promise. The rhythm, the ’you-are-mine-and-I-am-yours’ rhythm, was something she had never experienced.

Her pussy, milking his cock, was a gift. The walls, clenching with each withdrawal, gripped. The sensation, the ’her-pussy-is-trying-to-keep-him-inside’ sensation, was mutual. His cock, throbbing inside her, pulsed. Her walls, responding, clenched.

She moaned. Against his mouth. His lips, on hers, swallowed the sound. The kiss, the ongoing, continuous kiss that had lasted through the position change, was intimate. The ’I-am-kissing-the-man-who-just-fucked-my-throat’ kiss that should have been disgusting but was instead the most intimate moment of her life.

The door opened. Footsteps. Soft. Bare feet on stone.

Berenga entered first. The commander, revived by some supernatural endurance, walked on shaking legs. Her eyes, half-lidded, found the bed. Found the bodies. Found the fucking. She moved. To the bed. Her body, thick and naked, climbed onto the mattress. Her breasts, heavy, pressed against Viktor’s back. Her arms, wrapping around his torso, held him. Her hands, finding his chest, rested. Her face, against his shoulder blade, pressed.

Evriana followed. The aunt, her political mind and her maternal body both surrendered, crawled onto the bed. Her body, soft and warm, pressed against his side. Her hands, finding his hip, rested. Her fingers, tracing the muscle, helped. With each thrust, she pushed. Adding her weight to his hips. Driving him deeper into Veilera.

"Ah—♡♡!! Ah—♡♡!! Ah—♡♡!!"

The moans, louder now, were muffled by the kiss. Veilera’s body, sandwiched between the mattress and Viktor, was held. The other women, pressing against him, added weight. Each thrust, amplified by their combined mass, was deeper.

Lucia arrived. The demon girl, her grey skin flushed, crawled onto the bed. Her hands found Veilera’s leg. The one that was spread, bent at the knee, held in position by Viktor’s elbow. Lucia, with gentle hands, pushed. The leg, spread wider, opened Veilera further. The pussy, the stretched and swollen pussy, was more accessible. The cock, driving deeper, hit new angles.

Myra, the last, crawled. Her body, the priestess body that had been fucked for six hours in a tent and then for hours more in the mansion, was barely functional. She moved on her elbows and knees. Like a worm. Across the sheets. Her face, tear-streaked and slack, found Viktor’s tail.

The tail. The scaled, prehensile appendage that had been inside her pussy, her mouth, her ass. The appendage that had vibrated and thrust and made her cum more times than she could count. She found it. Her mouth, open and wet, took it in. She sucked. The scaled surface, warm and textured, was familiar. Her tongue, tracing the ridges, worked. The tail, responding to the oral, hardened. Vibrated. The BZZZZ was faint. A hum. A promise.

Viktor’s tail, which had been limp, responded to Myra’s mouth. The appendage, sensitive as a cock, stiffened. The vibration, transmitted through the tail, reached his spine. His hips, responding to the stimulation, thrust harder.

PAH. PAH. PAAAH—!!

"AAAAHH—♡♡♡!!"