Chapter 445: Chapter 445- Riding her now

The jet hit him in the face.

Not a drop. Not a bead. A ’stream’—thin and pressurized, warm, arcing upward from the compressed nipple and striking his cheek. He turned his face, opened his mouth, and the next stream hit his tongue directly.

He swallowed.

“Mmm.” His thumb dragged across the nipple, milking it deliberately. Another arc. Into his mouth. Down his throat. “’Tastes good.’”

“’Hnngh—!!’” Akane’s sound came from somewhere below her ribs—a place that had nothing to do with choice. Her hands flew to cover his—not stopping, ’pressing’, forcing his grip tighter on her own breast because her body had made a decision her mind hadn’t signed off on. “’Stop—it’s too—hnngh—sensitive—I can’t—’”

He pulled the nipple upward. Stretched it. Held it.

The whole breast lifted with his grip—that full, laden mass rising, the undersides showing, the skin pulling taut—milk streaming freely now in thin arcs that spattered his chest and the silk sheets and his forearm. The smell of it hit the room. Sweet. Animal. Intimate in a way that made several women in the crescent instinctively press their thighs together.

“’—MNNGH—husband—HNGH—it ’hurts’—’” Her head dropped back, spine curving, nine tails snapping to full extension as his thumb and forefinger found the very tip of her elongated nipple and rolled it deliberately. “’—HAAHH~!! Don’t—I’m leaking—stop—’”

“I know,” he said, and aimed the next stream directly into his mouth.

Swallowed again.

’”AAANHH~!!♡”’

Helvora, still kneeling at the bed’s edge, had been watching this with the focused expression of a queen who had decided to perform a medical function and was choosing not to think about anything else. She looked at Sylvea.

“Ready.”

Sylvea’s hands found Akane’s ribs. Helvora’s at her hips. Together—

They ’lifted’.

Akane rose off his cock.

The withdrawal was obscene. His ridged shaft dragging upward through her walls, every ridge catching on every engorged, compressed fold of her pussy—which ’gripped’, refused to yield, her walls closing behind each passing inch as if trying to prevent the exit entirely. The wet sound of it was continuous, sucking, her body trying to keep what it had.

“’Aahh—NNGH—wait—’”

Five inches out. Six.

Her cunt made a sound like a seal breaking.

SCHLURP.

“’—HAAHH~!!—’”

Then they dropped her.

PAAAH!

’”AAANNNHH~~!!♡♡”’

The sound cracked the room. Her belly ’shook’—the full swell jiggling from hips to navel in a wave, her breasts swinging with the impact, both nipples releasing simultaneous streams that crossed midair and spattered on the sheets beneath. Her nine tails slammed the mattress in one collective spasm.

She came.

Immediately. Violently. Her walls convulsing around his buried shaft in rapid clenches that he could feel individually—each ring of muscle squeezing and releasing, her body seizing on the pleasure and grinding it down to something that bypassed language entirely.

Her hands flew to her belly. Pressing. Holding. Her voice fractured.

“’It hurts—it hurts—hngh—it hurts—’”

PAAAH! PAAAH!

Helvora and Sylvea in grim synchrony—lift, drop, lift, drop—Akane’s weight moving between their hands, her milk flying in arcs with each landing, her cries stacking on each other until they were no longer individual sounds but a continuous broken wail that filled the vaulted hall and bounced back doubled.

’”NGHH~!! HIEKK~!!♡ AAAHH~!!♡♡”’

Her thighs were soaked. His cock drove in and out through the overflow—her fluids and his pre-cum mixed together—the wet sound of each thrust ’loud’ in the stone hall, each withdrawal pulling a string of fluid that snapped and fell.

Around the room, ’it hurts’ landed in every woman’s body differently.

Mamoon pressed both palms flat against her own small belly—barely a swell, weeks rather than months, but ’there’. Her golden eyes wide, watching Akane get dropped and cry and come and beg, watching the tears and the milk and the ’expression’ on her face that kept being wrong for pain and right for something else entirely. She didn’t look at her daughter.

Yuna didn’t look at her mother.

Thessa pressed her large rabbit ears flat against her white hair, her considerable chest rising and falling faster than usual, her hands locked together in her lap so they would stay there.

Yu Xiang had stopped pretending.

Her tight black dress was bunched at her hips, her hand working between her thighs with the same methodical precision she applied to everything—three fingers, slow, deep, her violet eyes never leaving the bed. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. The slick sound of it, barely audible, carried in the quiet between Akane’s cries.

Seris sat in her throne with her spine perfectly straight and her knees pressed together and both hands ’between’ them, working, her ice-blue eyes fixed on the scene with an expression of rigid composed horror that was undermined entirely by the flush spreading from her throat to her cheekbones. Her white hair had mostly come loose. She didn’t fix it.

Vyrena had abandoned the throne. She knelt on the floor beside it, one hand braced on the stone for balance, the other down the front of her training pants to the wrist, her tattooed shoulders rolling with slow, rhythmic effort, her amber eyes half-lidded and aimed at the bed.

’”Haah… hah… haah…”’ —barely audible, steady, her own metronome.

Kaira navigated by sound and heat, her gold ring at her clit cool against her fingertip—she could hear everything, read everything, and her body had been responding to the ambient temperature of this room since she’d walked in. She worked the ring in careful circles, each one sending a thin sharp signal through her piercing, her chest rising and falling, her blind eyes moving uselessly in their sockets.

Sabrina lay on her stomach on the cold floor, still wrecked from earlier, her chin on her forearm. Her other hand worked beneath her hips against the stone. Her golden eyes tracked the bed with an expression she wasn’t bothering to manage.

’She wasn’t managing any of it.’

PAAAH! PAAAH!

’”AAAHNN~!!♡ HNNGH~!! OUNGH~!!♡♡”’

His cock dragged through the overflow each time. Pulled out slick and glistening, her fluids coating every inch, running down to the base, and drove back in through that engorged grip that was ’obscenely’ tight—pregnancy tightness was its own category of sensation, the walls fuller, the ridge of her inner muscle bands denser, her body having reorganized itself around the child in ways that made the geometry of fucking her completely different.

He could feel her pulse ’inside’ her cunt.

Her heartbeat, transmitted through the walls directly against his shaft.

Ninety beats per minute and climbing.

He watched her face through each impact—the tears running freely, the golden irises going white and coming back, the open mouth releasing sounds she couldn’t stop, her hands pressing and gripping her own belly with every landing as if trying to hold herself together.

’His patience broke from boredom, not impatience.’

He grabbed her hips.

Replaced Helvora’s hands with his.

“You’re too slow,” he said.

Then he ’tilted’—his body rotating, hips driving upward, physics doing the rest—and Akane’s unsupported weight pitched forward. Helvora and Sylvea’s grips failed simultaneously.

Akane landed on her back.

WHUMP.

Her belly bounced—’actually bounced’, the full heavy mass rebounding off the mattress and settling—her breasts swinging forward with the momentum, slapping her own chest, both nipples firing thin sprays of milk in opposite directions. Her hair fanned out behind her head. Her tails splayed.

“’NGHH—!’”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep