100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids

Chapter 765: Chapter 764- Viktor’s Lovely Bella ( 1st POV~ Beta Testing )

”How is my little pussy?”

The words rumbled from my chest straight into her ear, and Bella’s entire body shivered against me. Her ears — those soft, triangular silver-furred things — flattened against her skull, twitching under my breath. Her tail curled tighter around my hip, the fluffy tip dragging across my lower back.

”I — I’m not little,” she whispered. Her voice was thin. Breathless. Her hands found mine where they cradled the underside of her belly, and her fingers laced through mine. ”I’m huge. I’m waddling. I can’t see my own feet.”

I pressed my lips to the curve of her neck. The skin there was warm — impossibly warm, the kind of heat that radiated from a body working overtime to grow life. I kissed her slowly, trailing my mouth along the tendon that ran from her ear to her shoulder, tasting salt and the faint sweetness of her natural scent. She smelled like milk. Like home. Like something mine.

She exhaled. A long, shuddering breath that started in her chest and ended in a soft whimper. I felt the weight of her belly shift in my palms as she relaxed — really relaxed — for the first time in hours. Maybe days. The strain of standing, of carrying, of holding two babies while pregnant with a third, poured out of her in that single breath. Her shoulders dropped. Her spine melted against my chest. Her knees went soft.

|| He’s here. He’s really here. I can stop holding everything together now.||

Her thought drifted to me through the bond — faint, unguarded, more emotion than words. I squeezed her belly gently, lifting just enough to take the pressure off her lower back. She moaned. Not sexual. Not yet. Just the sound of a body finding relief.

”You’re not huge,” I murmured against her neck. ”You’re perfect. Round and full and mine.”

Her ears went pink at the base. ”You always say that when you want to—”

”I always say that because it’s true.”

I turned her. Slowly. My hands never left her belly, supporting it from beneath as I guided her to face me. Her violet eyes — those wide, beautiful cat-kin eyes with their vertical pupils — looked up at me. Glassy. Wet. Her lower lip trembled. She was small against me. So fucking small. Her head barely reached my chest, her pregnant belly the only thing about her that took up space, pressing between us like a third presence in the room.

I kissed her forehead. Then her nose. Then her lips — soft, trembling, parting for me immediately. Her tongue found mine. She tasted like tea and something sweet, and she kissed me back with the desperate, clinging urgency of a woman who had been waiting too long and trying too hard not to show it.

I walked her backward. Slow steps. Her heels found the edge of the bed, and she sat — or rather, sank — onto the silk sheets with a grateful exhale. The mattress dipped under her weight. I knelt before her.

My hands went to her dress. The fabric was stretched thin over her belly, the seams straining. I untied the laces at her sides — slowly, carefully, my fingers working each knot free. The dress loosened. I pulled it up, over the swell of her belly, past her ribs, over her head. She lifted her arms to help, and the motion made her breasts rise — full, heavy, swollen with pregnancy, the nipples dark and sensitive, already stiff from the air.

She was naked beneath. Just the silver tail curling around her thigh, the ears flattened shyly against her hair. Her body — small frame, huge belly, full tits — was a study in contradictions. Fragile and powerful. Delicate and ripe.

”You’re staring,” she whispered. Her face was crimson.

”I’m appreciating.”

I lifted her belly again. Both hands, palms flat beneath the curve, taking the full weight. She gasped — a sharp, startled intake of air. Then her head fell back. Her eyes closed. The relief was so immediate, so overwhelming, that tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

”Oh — oh gods — that’s — I didn’t realize how heavy—” Her voice broke. She sniffled. Pressed her hands over mine. ”Don’t let go. Please don’t let go.”

”I won’t.”

I leaned forward. Kissed the tight skin of her belly. Felt the curve against my lips, the warmth, the faint movement beneath — a kick, maybe. Or a stretch. My child, turning inside her. I kissed it again, and she made a sound that was half laugh, half sob.

My mouth traveled lower. Past the belly. Down to where her thighs pressed together, shy and protective. I nudged her knees apart with my shoulders. She resisted for a moment — instinct, embarrassment — then yielded. Her thighs fell open, and the sight that greeted me made my cock twitch against my thigh.

Her pussy. Pink, swollen, glistening. Pregnancy had made her sensitive — the lips were puffy, flushed dark with blood, the soft silver hair above neatly trimmed. A thin strand of wetness connected her inner thighs, catching the light.

I pressed my thumb against her outer lip. Spread her. The pink interior opened like a flower, wet and hot and clenching at nothing. Her clit was swollen — engorged, peeking from its hood, demanding attention. Her hole — tight, small, even now — pulsed.

”V-Viktor—” She reached for my hand. Her fingers wrapped around my wrist. Not pushing me away. Holding me there. ”It’s — I’m sensitive, I—”

”I know.”

I pushed my thumb inside. One digit. Slow, deliberate, curling upward. Her walls clenched around me — hot, slick, impossibly tight. The pad of my thumb found the rough spot on her front wall, and I pressed.

She cried out. Her back arched, her belly lifting, her hands gripping the sheets. ”Ah — HAA — don’t — it’s too — I can’t—”

|| His thumb is inside me and I’m already about to break. I can’t — my body is so sensitive — every time he touches me I feel like I’m going to shatter—||

I curled my thumb. Pressed harder. Her thighs clamped around my hand, trapping me. I added a second finger — my index, sliding in alongside the thumb, stretching her. Her pussy sucked me in, the walls rippling, grasping. Wet sounds filled the room — obscene, slurping, the sound of a body desperate for more.

”Look at you,” I said. ”Dripping on my hand. You needed this.”

She was crying. Tears streaming down her cheeks, her ears flat, her tail thrashing against the sheets. ”I — I did — I needed you — I needed — HNNGH~!!”

I thrust my fingers. Deep. Curling. The pace was slow but relentless — each push dragging against that spot, each withdrawal pulling a fresh wave of slick. Her pussy made sounds. Wet, sloppy, hungry sounds.

Pah Pah — the wet slap of my palm against her swollen lips with each thrust.

”Haaah~!! A-AAH~!! Viktor — please — I’m — I’m—”

Her pussy clamped. Hard. Her thighs slammed shut around my wrist, and her entire body seized — back arching, belly lifting, tail going rigid. She squirted. A thin, hot stream of juices splashing my hand, my wrist, dripping onto the sheets. Her eyes rolled back. Her mouth opened in a silent scream that became a broken, sobbing moan.

”AAANGH~!! I — I — haaaah~!!”

I held my fingers inside her through the orgasm. Felt the walls ripple, clench, release, clench again. Her pussy was still gripping me when I finally pulled free — my fingers dripping, the scent of her thick in the air.

She lay there. Panting. Tears on her face. Her thighs still trembling, her pussy still twitching, leaking onto the sheets. Her belly rose and fell with each ragged breath.

I stood.