Chapter 440 - 439 - Gwen and Lira Getting a Show
She looked.
Viktor pulled Rihana up out of the water.
The woman’s body came with him in a cascade of silver — sheets of pond water pouring off curves that Gwen’s fevered, helpless eyes catalogued in real time. Full, heavy breasts swinging with the motion, nipples dark and still leaking thin white threads down their undersides. Wide hips. Thick thighs. A belly that shook softly with every sob still running through her.
And Viktor’s hands — ’those hands’ — gripping her like she was inventory he was entitled to handle any way he chose.
Gwen’s free hand, without her full awareness, had found the hem of her skirt.
She stopped it. Yanked it back to the branch above her head. Gripped the bark until the rough texture bit into her palm and gave her something to focus on that wasn’t the way his muscles moved in the moonlight — his back, his shoulders, the absolute inhuman geometry of what the evolution had done to his body, broader and harder and carrying that purple aura like a second skin.
’He helped us,’ she thought desperately. ’He carried mother’s bag. He complained about the food. He’s just a man.’
PAAAH!
Rihana’s scream tore through the tree-line.
’He is absolutely not just a man.’
Gwen turned her head — involuntarily, instinctively, the way prey animals turn from predators — and looked directly into another pair of wide, stunned eyes staring back at her from three feet away.
She nearly screamed.
She clapped both hands over her mouth instead.
Lira.
The bandit captain stood at the edge of the tree-line not four paces from Gwen’s tree, partially hidden by the shadow of a low pine bough — and she looked exactly the way Gwen felt. Face flushed, lips parted, dark eyes enormous and fixed on the clearing with an expression that walked the knife-edge between shock and something that had no clean name.
Her hand was pressed flat against the trunk beside her. Her knuckles were white.
For a long, frozen second, both women stared at each other.
The wet slap of Viktor’s hips against Rihana’s body echoed through the clearing between them.
PAH! PAH!
’"OUNGHH~!! HIIEEK~!! M-MASTERRR~!!!"’
Lira’s jaw worked silently. Her eyes dropped — just for an instant, just one mortifying instant — to Gwen’s thighs, where the dampness was visible even in this light against pale skin. Then her own gaze snapped up, guilty and sharp.
Gwen looked at Lira’s legs.
The inside of Lira’s thighs, below the hem of her leathers, was ’glistening.’
They looked away from each other simultaneously. Back to the pond. Because whatever was happening in that clearing had gravity, and the purple aphrodisiac in the air was making sustained eye-contact with another fully-dressed woman feel somehow more exposing than staring at the man breeding a demoness in the moonlight.
Lira’s internal experience was considerably less innocent than her composed exterior suggested.
She was the leader of this camp. She had fought for that position with her body and her blade in equal measure. She had watched men do brutal things and done several herself. She was not sheltered. She was not easily shaken.
She was completely, catastrophically shaken.
Because Rihana — ’Rihana’, the quiet, covered, perpetually modest woman who cooked for the camp and kept her horns wrapped and never looked any man directly in the eye — was currently being bounced on a cock that Lira had watched, with her own eyes, split her open and make her bleed and make her scream and make her ’beg for more’ in the same breath.
’She called him master.’
The thought kept circling.
’She called him master. Rihana called a stranger master. After one night.’
Lira’s hand had moved to the lacing of her leathers without her noticing. She pulled it back. Crossed her arms instead, gripping her own elbows, which didn’t help at all because it pressed her forearms against her chest and she could feel how hard her own nipples were against the interior of her armor.
She had watched him this morning. In the camp. The way he’d moved through — easy, unhurried, doing small things. Fixing a wheel. Picking up a child who’d fallen. Handing a woman water with that casual, unremarkable generosity that men in power almost never bothered with. She’d thought: ’tolerable. Possibly useful. We’ll see.’
She had not thought: ’I will be watching him breed one of my clan at midnight from behind a tree while my thighs become a disaster.’
The purple light had nearly dropped her to the ground.
It had come on so fast — that ’smell’, that thick, sweet, invasive warmth in the air — and before she’d identified it as a problem it had already reached her bloodstream. She felt it the way she felt strong wine, except wine had the decency to take time. This was instantaneous. This was her body receiving a message it hadn’t consented to read and immediately, ’enthusiastically’ responding.
Her pussy was pulsing.
She pressed her thighs together and felt the slickness shift and redistribute and made a small, involuntary noise in her throat that she killed before it could become a sound.
Then Viktor bounced Rihana.
Lira watched the thick woman’s body arc up and crash down onto his cock with the full assist of gravity — watched the way her breasts swung with the momentum, slapping against her own chest and up toward her chin, nipples spraying thin arcs of milk on the upswing that caught the moonlight like white sparks — watched the way Rihana’s face had gone to that place entirely beyond language, eyes rolled back, mouth in a perfect vacant O —
And Lira’s hand was between her own thighs before she caught it.
She pulled it back.
Pressed her knuckles to her own mouth instead.
Her body was making decisions entirely without her leadership and she resented it profoundly.
Three feet away, Gwen had lost the battle with her skirt hem.
She wasn’t aware she’d made a decision. One moment she was gripping bark. The next, two fingers were pressed against the soaked front of her panties, not moving — just ’pressing’, just acknowledging the impossible heat there, the way her body had been screaming for contact since the moment she’d seen his back muscles flex the first time.
She wasn’t a child. She knew what arousal was. She’d felt it before — vague, abstract, easily dismissed.
This was none of those things.
This was the purple air and the sound of wet flesh and the sight of a woman being ’owned’ by something that looked like a man but moved like a force of nature — and Gwen’s inexperienced, overwired body couldn’t distinguish between watching and ’wanting’ and her fingers pressed harder before she made it stop.
’He helped my mother—’
PAAAH!
’"AAAAHHHH~!!! C-CUMMING~!!! MASTER I’M—AAANGHH~!!!"’
Gwen made a sound. Small. Involuntary. Swallowed immediately.
She looked at Lira.
Lira looked at her.
Both of them had the same expression: the unique humiliation of someone who has just been caught doing something by a stranger who is simultaneously doing the exact same thing.
Viktor kissed Rihana.
Gwen watched his mouth work against the thick woman’s — hungry, possessive, not a kiss so much as a ’consumption’ — and felt a sensation low in her belly that she had no name for yet but that her body clearly planned to remember indefinitely.
’He kissed her while he was still—while his tail was still—while he was still—’