My Blood Legacy: Bloodlines-Chapter 39: Animalistic Smell! (R-18)

Victor’s eyes darkened with a primal hunger as he watched Scarlett shudder with the waves of pleasure from her orgasm.

The scent of her ecstasy filled the air, sweet and musky, mingling with the metallic taste of his own blood, still present on his skin.

His hand remained pressed firmly against the soaked silk of her panties, feeling the warmth and the faint, rhythmic pulsations from within her.

"So beautiful..." he murmured, his voice a low, possessive growl that vibrated in his core.

He could feel her writhing against nothing, her body still tense with hypersensitivity. Slowly, deliberately, he slipped his fingers under the soaked edge of her panties.

Scarlett let out a sharp, surprised gasp as he pushed the wet fabric aside. Her eyes snapped open suddenly, wide and glazed, meeting his. The cold air against her exposed, damp skin was a shock, but nothing compared to his gaze—pure, absolute possession.

He didn’t look away. Keeping her gaze fixed, he placed his hand between them. The tips of his fingers glistened with her essence. A low murmur of approval echoed in his chest.

"Finally," he whispered, the word more felt than heard.

Then, he brought his fingers to his lips.

Scarlett watched, completely mesmerized and exposed, as his tongue slid, savoring her directly from her skin. His eyes closed for a brief moment of pleasure, then opened again, holding her with a dark, voracious look of pleasure.

"Perfection," he declared, his voice husky. "Sweet... and all mine. A taste I’ll become addicted to."

The confession, raw and carnal, sent another shock through her body. Before she could process it, his hand returned. This time, there was no barrier.

His touch wasn’t gentle. It was a claim. His thumb found her swollen clitoris, circling it once, twice—a torturous, conscious pressure that made her cry out—before his fingers, still tasting of her, pressed against her wet entrance.

She was so wet, so impossibly open from climax, that his index finger slid inside her with obscene ease.

"AH! Victor—!" Her back arched off the bed, a muffled moan escaping her throat. It was too much, an overwhelming invasion of sensations right after orgasm. Her inner walls vibrated wildly around the intrusion, sensitive and protesting, but already craving more.

He watched her face contort in a mixture of pain and overwhelming pleasure, his own expression of concentrated intensity.

"Just feel it," he commanded softly, his warm breath against her ear as he leaned over her. He began to move his finger, a slow, deep movement that grazed against her inner walls. The sound was lascivious, moist, and unmistakable in the silence of the room.

Then he added a second finger.

Scarlett sobbed, her nails digging into his shoulders. The stretching was exquisite, filling her to the point of a dizzying fullness. He parted them slightly, stretching her further, and her hips involuntarily rose against his hand. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"N-no... so... deeper..." she pleaded incoherently, the words dissolving into a sigh as he curved his fingers, finding a spot inside her that made her see stars.

"Here?" he asked, a wicked smile forming on his lips as he pressed that same spot again, relentlessly.

Her response was a broken cry, her body arching violently. The spiral of pleasure, which had never fully unraveled, tightened again with terrifying speed. It wasn’t the sharp climax of before; it was a deep, rising wave being drawn from the depths of her by his relentless, experienced touch.

He stimulated her with a rhythm that was both punishing and perfect, his thumb returning its attention to her clitoris, keeping pace with the rhythm of his penetrating fingers. He absorbed every spasm, every sigh, every helpless contraction around his fingers.

"That’s it," he whispered, his voice a deep melody against her skin. "You’re going to come again. In my hand. Let me feel everything."

And she did. With a guttural, hoarse cry that contained his name, Scarlett shattered.

Her orgasm was a torrent, soaking her hand and wrist, her inner muscles tightening and milking her fingers as waves of ecstasy flooded her. Her vision blurred, her consciousness confined to the point where his flesh met hers.

Through the mist, she felt him slowly withdraw his fingers. The loss made her groan. She was weak, completely exhausted, floating in a sea of ​​sensations.

Victor brought his glistening fingers back to his mouth, his eyes fixed on her devastated and ecstatic expression. He cleaned them slowly and carefully, his tongue capturing every drop.

"Better than I imagined," he said, his voice hoarse with satisfaction. He leaned over her, his body aligning with hers, the hardness and demand of his member pressing against her throbbing center through the fabric of her trousers. "Come on, recover... we’ll stay here all night."

Victor rose to his knees, his shadow enveloping Scarlett’s still trembling body. Her eyes, heavy with pleasure, followed his every movement with hypnotic devotion. His fingers found the zipper of his trousers, and the sound of the zipper sliding down echoed in the room, thick with humid air and desire.

With a fluid, powerful movement, he pushed his pants and underwear down from his hips, freeing his erection. It was imposing, a crude, primal statement of his hunger, throbbing slightly in the cold air. The vein running along his member throbbed, and the head, already wet with his own excitement, glistened in the low light.

He didn’t push her down, nor did he guide her. He simply moved forward, kneeling on her chest, and let the hot, hard weight of his penis rest on her face.

The scent was the first wave to hit her—an intense, salty, masculine mixture, with an unmistakable trace of Victor: iron, power, and pure animalistic need. The aroma entered her nostrils and exploded directly into the primal part of her brain, the part he had unlocked and now commanded.

A shiver ran through Scarlett. The post-climax fatigue evaporated, incinerated by a new, deeper flame of excitement. Her eyes darkened, her pupils dilating almost to swallow her irises. A low, hoarse moan escaped her lips, which parted involuntarily.

She didn’t wait for an order. Instinct took over.

Her tongue emerged, a pale pink flash, and licked a long, slow line from base to sensitive tip.

The taste was intoxicating—salty, earthy, his. Victor let out a guttural sound, a mixture of surprise and supreme approval. His hands buried themselves in her hair, not to force, but to anchor themselves, his fingers pressing against her scalp.

Encouraged, Scarlett went deeper. She opened her mouth, enveloping the swollen head, and sucked forcefully, her eyes closing in concentrated ecstasy. Her hands, which had been hanging at her sides, rose to grasp his hips, her nails digging into the hard skin of his flanking muscles. She pulled him closer, wanting more of the taste, more of the sensation, more of his essence in her mouth.

"Damn, Scarlett...," his voice came out drawn out and rough. He watched, fascinated, as she devoured him with a hunger that rivaled his own. Her mouth was warm, moist, and incredibly skillful, moving with a mixture of lustful curiosity and absolute need. She licked the bulging veins, kissed the shaft, and then swallowed more of him, trying, with effort and muffled moans, to accommodate his size.

Each moan that vibrated in her throat was transmitted directly to him, an electric feedback of pure pleasure. The sight was one of sublime depravity: she, lying down and dominated, taking absolute control of her pleasure in this submissive and voracious way. Her tail writhed on the mattress, beating in a frenetic rhythm.

He began to move his hips, slowly at first, letting her dictate the pace. But soon the tension became too great. His hands in her hair tightened, guiding her gently, establishing a deeper, more insistent rhythm.

"Just like that," he growled, his breath ragged. "Swallow... feel how far you can go."

Scarlett gasped slightly as he pushed deeper, but her eyes snapped open, meeting his. There was no fear, only a defiance steeped in pure lust. Tears of effort and pleasure moistened the corners of her eyes as she relaxed her throat, allowing him to slide further into the moist warmth of her mouth.

The sensation was overwhelming for both of them. For Victor, it was the warm, pleading grip of her mouth, her tongue dancing beneath him. For Scarlett, it was total submission to her senses, his weight and taste filling every part of her consciousness. She could feel every pulse of his on her tongue, every muscle contraction in her hips.

He was losing control, his breathing becoming a series of short, panting growls. Her scent, her warmth, the sight of his own member disappearing between those swollen, obedient lips... it was too much.

"I’m going to come," he warned, his voice a rough, shattered sound. "I’m going to fill that pretty, hungry little mouth."

Scarlett only moaned in response, a sound of total consent and anticipation. His movements quickened, his hands gripping her hips tightly, pulling him deeper and deeper inside.

With a muffled roar, Victor reached his climax. Hot, salty jets flooded Scarlett’s mouth. She didn’t flinch. She swallowed greedily, each gulp an act of devotion and mutual possession, her eyes closed in ecstatic concentration. Her own body trembled on the mattress, a small secondary orgasm being ripped from her simply by the act of serving him so completely.

As the last waves of pleasure washed over him, he stood still for a moment, panting, watching her as she meticulously and cleanly wiped every inch of his sensitive member with her tongue, as if savoring every last drop.

"Want more?" Victor asked, laughing at her expression.

Her gaze was no longer that of a normal person... she~ "Hurry up, I’m on fire, husband ~<3" She moaned, placing her hand on her dripping pussy.