10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 211 - Cruxius Sucking Blood First Time
Lira’s voice cracked. Her thighs squeezed tight around him for a single, desperate second, then released, shaking. Her fingers whitened on the headboard.
Further down the same body—a body that appeared entirely unconcerned about the logistical complexity of the arrangement it was currently managing—Ytrisia.
’Purple hair.’ ’Wide, violet eyes currently sealed shut, the lashes damp.’ ’Her body: substantial, generously built, the kind of architecture that needed no architectural assistance to draw the eye.’ Her heavy breasts—full and pale and unbound—moved with her, swaying and bouncing with each drop of her weight as she rode him in the specific posture that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Her broad hips pumped. Down, then up, then down again—the motion of a woman caught between wanting to stop and being entirely incapable of stopping, her purple hair swinging forward with each descent.
’Squelch.’
The sound carried even through stone.
Ytrisia’s lips parted. The moan that came out wasn’t dignified. S-rank heroines, it turned out, made the exact same sounds as anyone else when their defenses had been comprehensively dismantled.
’"Nnghh—nhhh—Cruxius—I—"’
Evangeline watched.
Her pale hands rested lightly on the stone windowsill.
Her pendant lit up again, frantic, the red glow painting her fingers pink.
She ignored it entirely.
---
Then it happened.
Without warning.
His hips snapped upward.
One sharp, violent jerk—deliberate, precisely timed—that sent Ytrisia sliding sideways off him with a startled, cracked cry, her heavy form tumbling against the sheets in a graceless heap of tangled purple hair and violently jiggling curves, her thighs snapping together on instinct around nothing.
’"?!—Wh—?!"’
He was already moving.
Lira didn’t have time to register the shift in his hands before she found herself repositioned—tilted, hips angled, the warm, heavy press of him finding a new target entirely.
He looked at the back of her neck.
His dark eyes were perfectly, serenely calm.
"Bon Appétit," he said.
PAH—
’"AHHHH—!!"’
Lira’s spine arched off the sheets with the velocity of a woman struck by lightning she had been warned about and had agreed to in advance but which still hit exactly as hard as advertised. Her fingers clawed at the silk, her nails dragging white lines through the dark fabric.
’Pah. Pah.’
’"Nngh—Sir—Sir—wait—"’
He paid the protests the attention they deserved, which was to say he catalogued them, filed them, and continued. His grip on her hair tightened—one large hand fisted low at her nape, the other curled over her hip with total possessive certainty, pulling her back to meet every thrust with the methodical cadence of a man who had made a decision and was seeing it through.
’Pah. Pah. Pah.’
Her back arched further. Her head dropped, then snapped back. Her cries tumbled over each other—ragged, high, stripped of coherence.
’"Sir—ah—haah—please—Sir—!"’
The pink hair swayed. The pale skin flushed. The specific, obscene sound of his hips meeting her backside echoed sharp and wet against the stone.
And then his attention moved.
Ytrisia had pushed herself upright, half-dazed, heavy chest still heaving, her violet eyes barely focused—
His hand hooked her wrist.
He pulled.
She came falling into his lap without dignity—her full breasts slamming warm and heavy against his bare chest, swaying wide from the impact before his mouth found her.
Not her lips.
Lower.
His teeth changed.
Evangeline saw it from the window and felt something drop still in her chest.
The precise, slow descent of his canines—’not human’. Not even close to human. The long, needle-fine extension of something ancient, something ’inherited’, something that did not belong to any hero’s toolkit or any villain’s power profile but came from somewhere far older than both.
Bloodmoon.
The word arrived in her mind like a struck bell.
She felt the blood drain slightly from her own face—which, for a vampire queen, was significant.
He opened his mouth.
And bit.
Not the neck. Not the wrist.
’The breast.’
His teeth sank into the full, pale upper curve of Ytrisia’s left breast with an audible, sharp sound—not violent but precise—a single, deliberate puncture, and then his mouth sealed and he ’drew.’
’"AAAHH—!!"’
The cry that tore from Ytrisia’s throat was something else entirely. Not pain—or not only pain. The vampire energy in the act, the ancient, erotic current that ran through a bloodline feeding, lit through her nervous system like current through a wire. Her whole body seized—spine arching, thighs clamping, fingers flying to the back of his head and pressing him ’in’ even as she screamed.
’"Nngghhh—ahhh—w-what—I—!!"’
Her body electrocuted.
There was no other word for it—the shuddering, full-body convulsion that rolled through her from the base of her spine outward, every muscle firing in sequence, her hips grinding forward involuntarily, her thighs soaked. The squirt came without warning—a hard, shaking, helpless release that soaked the sheets beneath her as her walls clenched on air and her eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering against nothing.
He kept drinking.
His throat moved. Once. Twice. The motion of a man tasting something rare with the focused, reverent attention it deserved.
’Throb. Throb.’
His other hand did not stop. Lira was still beneath him, still crying into the sheets, still calling him ’sir’ with decreasing coherence, her back arched to its limit, her hips trembling against every deep stroke of his cock in her most forbidden place, the tight ring of muscle clenching in frantic, failing resistance around his girth.
He managed both without looking strained.
’Pah. Pah.’
Lira’s fingers had long since abandoned the headboard. They’d found his wrist instead—wrapping around it, not to pull away but to hold on. Her knuckles were white. Her voice had thinned to something barely human.
’"Hhaah—hhaaah—I—I’m—"’
She went.
Hard.
The release hit her like a wall—the high, shaking cry punching from her throat as her whole body clenched and spasmed around him, her hips stuttering in broken, helpless rhythm, her thighs trembling where they flanked his hips.
Ytrisia, meanwhile, had collapsed sideways against the sheets. Still twitching. Her whole body made small, involuntary jerks every few seconds—aftershocks from the vampire feeding still cycling through her nervous system. Her breast bore two neat, dark marks above the soft curve. Her violet eyes were half-open and utterly unfocused, staring at the stone ceiling with the expression of a woman who had just been rearranged on a fundamental level and hadn’t yet begun to process the paperwork.
He pulled out of Lira.
She made a small, ruined sound as he did—the particular sound of a woman whose body had forgotten, temporarily, how to be empty.
He looked at them both.
Two women. Both horizontal. Both spent past the point of function. Both thoroughly, completely, ’architecturally’ undone.
Lira’s chest rose and fell in quick, shallow waves. Ytrisia’s twitched in uneven pulses. Between them on the dark silk: evidence of everything that had preceded this moment, every surface glistening.
He straightened.
His large hand closed around himself. Slow. Measured.
Stroked.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
’Squelch—Pah.’
The release painted across them both in hot, heavy lines—a long, thick wave that caught Lira across her flushed lower back and curved up the rise of her ass, then swung to arc across the swell of Ytrisia’s bare hip, the warm splatter landing across her trembling thigh with an obscene sound that neither woman reacted to beyond a faint, shared exhale.
’"...Fuck,"’ Lira breathed into the sheets.
It was barely a word. Just air shaped by old habit.
’"...Fuck,"’ Ytrisia agreed, at a slightly different pitch, from six inches to her left.
He looked at them.
His expression: the specific, calm neutrality of a man reviewing his own work and finding it satisfactory.
He reached up.
Ruffled his hair.
One casual drag of his hand through the dark, disheveled strands, letting them settle messily back into place as he turned, unhurried, toward the room’s far wall.
Toward the window.
His dark eyes found it. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮
Found the shadow beyond it. The pale silver hair catching torchlight. The slim silhouette framed in the window’s stone arch, both hands resting on the sill, eyes fixed on the scene with the unblinking attention of a predator who has been watching for long enough that she has forgotten to pretend she isn’t.
He tilted his head.
His expression didn’t change.
"It is," he said, voice carrying with zero effort through the still air, "a very bad manner to peek on couples mating."
A sound from the window.
A scoff.
Not delicate. Not aristocratic. The sound of a woman who had heard something she found beneath the dignity of a real response and was granting it the minimum acknowledgment of one anyway.
The air ’folded.’
It was the only description for it—reality itself creasing in a single, silent seam of displaced space that opened at the room’s center and delivered her across it in the span of a blink, no shimmer, no warning, no theater.
Evangeline.
