Extra's Life: MILFs Won't Leave the Incubus Alone-Chapter 257 - 256: Golden Vows and Hidden Jealousies

Chapter 257: Chapter 256: Golden Vows and Hidden Jealousies

The grand cathedral of the capital stood as a monument to the Empire’s enduring power, its spires piercing the cloudless sky like divine spears. Today, it was adorned in splendor beyond imagination—cascades of white roses and golden lilies draped from every arch, crystal chandeliers casting prismatic light across the marble floors.

Nobles from every corner of the realm filled the pews, their silks and jewels whispering as they shifted, eyes wide with anticipation.

This was the day the Empire had been whispering about for weeks: the wedding of Lady Flora Leonidus, only daughter of Viscount Leonidus, to the rising star among knights—Sir Aiden, the enigmatic warrior whose feats on the battlefield and uncanny charisma had elevated him to near-legendary status. Whispers of his half-demon heritage only added to his allure, a forbidden edge that made hearts race.

The ceremony began with the tolling of sacred bells, deep and resonant, vibrating through the chests of all present. Aiden stood at the altar, a vision of lethal perfection in his ritual attire: a tailored black coat embroidered with white threads depicting ancient runes of binding and protection, fitted perfectly to his broad shoulders and lean, muscular frame.

His hair—pure white, like fresh-fallen snow—cascaded to his shoulders, framing a face that could have been chiseled by the gods themselves. Golden eyes gleamed with quiet confidence, sharp and predatory, drawing gasps from the assembled noblewomen.

Many shifted in their seats, thighs pressing together instinctively as his incubus aura seeped into the air—subtle, yet irresistible. Wetness bloomed between legs unbidden; fantasies flickered uninvited. ’Gods, to be in her place... to feel those strong hands on my skin...’

Flora approached on her father’s arm, a goddess in mortal form. Her wedding gown was a masterpiece of golden silk, flowing like liquid sunlight, hugging her ample curves—full breasts straining against the low-cut bodice, hips swaying with each step.

Her golden hair was woven with pearls and diamonds, cascading in waves down her back, and her eyes—matching Aiden’s gold—sparkled with a mix of nervousness and devotion. She was beautiful, radiant, the perfect bride. Yet as she reached the altar and took Aiden’s hand, a ripple of envy swept through the crowd.

The cardinal, an elderly man in flowing robes, began the rites. Vows were exchanged in clear, steady voices—Aiden’s deep timbre sending shivers down spines, Flora’s soft and melodic.

"Do you, Sir Aiden, take this woman as your wife, to claim, protect, and cherish in body and soul?"

"I do," Aiden replied, his golden gaze locking onto Flora’s, a faint smile playing on his lips. His thumb brushed her knuckles, a touch that made her breath hitch visibly.

"And do you, Lady Flora, take this man as your husband, to yield, honor, and devote yourself eternally?"

"I do," she whispered, cheeks flushing.

The cardinal smiled benevolently. "Then, by the grace of the divine, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal your union with a kiss."

Aiden didn’t hesitate. He cupped Flora’s face gently, pulling her close, and claimed her lips in a kiss that was anything but chaste. It was deep, possessive—his tongue teasing hers briefly, drawing a soft whimper from her that echoed in the hushed cathedral. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, petals raining from above.

But not everyone cheered with pure joy.

In the front pew, Luna Merlin—daughter of the influential Duchess Sabrina Merlin—gripped her fan so tightly it creaked. Her red eyes burned with jealousy, lips pressed into a thin line. Luna had tasted Aiden’s touch in secret encounters, his cock driving her to madness, and now... now he belonged to another. ’How dare she? That golden bitch doesn’t deserve him.’

Beside her, Sabrina herself—elegant and mature, with curves that turned heads—felt a similar pang. Her thighs clenched under her gown, remembering how Aiden had corrupted her, filled her night after night. Catherine Leonidus, Flora’s own mother, sat poised and regal, but her full breasts heaved with suppressed emotion. Jealousy twisted in her gut like a knife. ’My lover... marrying my daughter. He’s slipping away.....from me..’

Viscount Leonidus, standing tall beside his wife, accepted congratulations with a practiced, fake smile—handshakes from dukes, bows from counts. "Thank you, thank you," he murmured repeatedly. But inside, rage simmered. He knew.

He knew his beloved Catherine had been unfaithful—with their new son-in-law, no less. The infertility treatments, the "private consultations"—all excuses for her to spread her legs for that white-haired devil. He swallowed it down, face impassive, but his fists clenched at his sides.

The ceremony transitioned seamlessly into the grand ballroom of the Leonidus estate, transformed into a fairy-tale hall with chandeliers, orchestras, and tables groaning under feasts of roasted meats, exotic fruits, and flowing wines. The ball dance began, a whirlwind of elegance and intrigue.

Aiden and Flora opened with the first dance, moving in perfect sync—his hand firm on her waist, guiding her effortlessly. She gazed up at him adoringly, body pressed close enough for him to feel her hardened nipples through the thin fabric. "My husband," she whispered breathlessly as they twirled.

"My wife," he replied, voice a low growl that made her pussy clench. His incubus charm amplified in the crowded room, an invisible wave washing over the noblewomen. They watched, entranced, as he spun Flora—his powerful frame, those golden eyes flashing. Whispers turned to sighs.

"He’s divine..."

"Look at those hands—I bet they could pin a woman down for hours..."

"I’m soaking just watching him..."

One bold marchioness approached during a partner swap, pressing her body against Aiden’s far too closely. "Sir Aiden—or should I say Viscount now?—you dance like a dream." Her hand "accidentally" brushed his thigh.

He smiled politely, but his aura pulsed, making her gasp softly, knees weakening. "Thank you, my lady." By the end of the song, she was flushed, panties drenched, retreating with shaky legs.

Catherine danced with a duke, but her eyes never left Aiden. Sabrina and Luna did the same—jealous glares masked as smiles. Flora, oblivious in her bliss, beamed as wives and daughters alike swooned over her new husband.

As the night deepened and guests began to depart—carriages rumbling away under the stars—Aiden finally scooped Flora into his arms in a princess carry. She squealed delightedly, wrapping her arms around his neck, legs dangling.

"The party ends, my love," he murmured, voice husky with promise. "But our honeymoon starts now. Right in our bed."

Flora blushed deeply, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Take me, husband. Claim your wife properly this time."

The remaining guests chuckled indulgently, but Catherine’s heart twisted. She watched from the steps, a flicker of raw jealousy in her eyes—her daughter in his arms, about to be fucked senseless.

Viscount Leonidus approached his wife, noting her stare. He leaned in close, voice low and bitter. "Jealous, Catherine? Of your own daughter?"

She turned to him, composure cracking slightly. No denial. "Yes," she admitted flatly, eyes defiant.

His face slumped, pain flashing before rage ignited. "How could you? To Flora... to me! I’ve given you everything—title, wealth, protection. And you spread your legs for that... that knight? Our son-in-law?"

Catherine’s expression hardened. The air around her thickened as her massive mana pool stirred—arcane pressure building like a storm. Leonidus staggered back a step, knees buckling under the invisible weight.

"Shut your mouth," she hissed, voice laced with fury and power. The pressure intensified, forcing him to one knee, breath ragged. Nearby servants froze, pretending not to notice.

"You... useless man," she continued, venom dripping. "Your dick? Pathetic. Small, quick, utterly useless. You never made me cum once in all our years. Never filled me like a real man should."

Leonidus gasped, face red with humiliation and strain.

"But Aiden..." Catherine’s voice softened into a moan-like remembrance, eyes glazing. "His cock is thicker, longer—stretches me so perfectly. He pounds me for hours, makes me scream, squirt, beg. He cums inside me again and again, hot and thick, breeding me like you never could."

She leaned closer, mana pressing harder, making him groan in pain. "He makes me happy. Frees me from this drowning politics. Gives me pleasure you could only dream of."

Finally, she released the pressure. Leonidus collapsed forward, coughing, defeated.

"If you tell anyone," she whispered coldly, "anyone at all... you’ll see your last days.... I’ll end you myself."

He looked up, broken, saying nothing as she turned and walked away—hips swaying with renewed confidence, mind already drifting to how she’d steal Aiden back soon.

Inside the estate, Aiden carried Flora up the grand staircase to their bridal suite. The door closed behind them with a click.

The honeymoon—and his deeper conquests—had only just begun.