Ultimate Villain's Return as a Doctor in the Cultivation World-Chapter 239 - Spreading Daughter on Her Mother

Chapter 239: Chapter 239 - Spreading Daughter on Her Mother

He pulled the daughter back by the hair.

The release came with the sounds of a body reconnecting with air — not gradual, not graceful.

"—HAAH—"

Both hands at her own throat.

"—HAAH—HAA—"

The gasp of someone verifying the throat is still there, still working, pressing the evidence of her own windpipe with her fingertips to confirm it.

He picked her up with both hands, out of the water completely, and threw her.

Not far.

A directed throw — destination specific, trajectory deliberate — and she went airborne for the brief, wet, turning moment before she hit the ledge.

She hit her mother.

Front to front, full contact, the daughter’s wet body landing across her mother’s body with the impact of weight meeting warmth — her perky chest mashing softly against her mother’s heavy, milk-swollen breasts, the wet slap of two bodies colliding echoing in the chamber stone.

"—AAAHN~!!!—" The mother, receiving the weight and the heat simultaneously.

"—Wh—" The daughter, still not breathing fully, not yet organized.

He was at the ledge before either of them had finished arriving — both hands repositioning the daughter with the efficiency of someone rearranging the architecture toward a shape he already had in mind.

He turned her.

Rotated her so her back faced him instead of her front, then set her down — her back against her mother’s chest, her mother’s arms suddenly on either side of her from reflex, the mother’s body the warm surface below her and behind her.

The daughter’s head fell back.

And landed between her mother’s breasts.

Both sides of her face enclosed in the dense, warm weight of her mother’s chest pressing in from either side — surrounded, warm-cheeked, the specific intimacy of a location no diagram could prepare you for.

The mother felt it.

The weight of her daughter’s face against her own chest, the specific warmth of the girl’s cheek against her skin, something below thought responding to it.

"—Aaahn~...—"

The daughter stared at the ceiling.

Stone above, pool light flickering across it, and on either side of her face the warmth her mother had always carried — except nothing about this moment was what it had ever been before.

He found her hair.

Not on her head.

His fingers moving lower, finding the dark hair at the junction of her thighs, and gripped.

She reacted before she could stop herself.

"—AAAHN~!!!—"

Both her hands went down toward it — the specific, instinctive, never-been-pulled-there-before reaction of a girl whose body had just learned that location was reachable.

He caught both wrists in one hand.

One hand — collecting both her wrists like they were a single thing — while the other maintained the grip, and she lay there pinned and crying and her hands going nowhere.

"—please—it hurts—please not there—"

He released the hair.

His fingers moved lower and inward — and began.

Not gentle. Not cruel for the sake of it either — just thorough, deliberate, the specific attention of fingers exploring something that had never been explored, learning the architecture from the outside first.

She cried out.

"—AAAHN~!!!—"

His other hand at her chest, palm closing around her breast — the young, firm, present warmth of a eighteen-going-nineteen body that carried the Yin-Devouring quality just below its surface, thumb brushing the sensitive little nipple that tightened instantly under his touch, something deeper than its age suggesting.

He kneaded and worked simultaneously.

Her body had no answer to two locations receiving attention at once — the writhe that came from her was full-body, both legs pushing against stone, spine curving, every meridian unguarded and screaming.

"—AAAHN~!!! AAAHN~!!! HAA—AAAHN~!!!—"

Her mother felt all of it.

Every movement the daughter made arrived at her body through skin-on-skin contact with nothing in between — every arch, every jolt, every shudder transmitted directly from the girl’s back to her chest and stomach.

Her arms had gone around her daughter.

Not a decision — her arms were around the girl the way arms go around someone you’ve held since before they had language for holding, from habit older than thought.

Her daughter’s sounds above her.

Her daughter’s body moving above her.

"—Nnghhh~... aaahn~... AAAHN~!!!—"

His finger found resistance.

The specific, thin, present reality of an intact hymen — the architecture of something that had never been touched, delicate and real beneath the pad of his finger — and he pulled.

Not through. Not yet. Just enough.

She screamed.

"—KYAAANGHHH~!!!—"

A pulled-short scream — the scream of a tear that stopped before finishing, leaving the thing half-done and the body in the specific trembling aftermath of knowing it’s coming.

Her mother’s arms went tight around her.

The reflex of a scream — arms pulling the girl in without any instruction from the brain.

"—stop—please—you are hurting her—"

He pulled his fingers out.

And placed his cock at her entrance.

The weight of it resting there — warm, large, impossibly patient — and the daughter’s entire body understood what that was before her mind had finished assembling the thought.

Everything in her went still.

The kind of stillness that isn’t calm — it’s the body holding its breath, every nerve pointed at a single location, the specific quality of knowing something is about to change permanently.

"—no—" Small. Genuine. Not performance, not theater. "—no please—I cannot—that is too—"

"—Please—" The mother’s voice had changed register entirely, louder, something stripped-down in it. "—please she is young — please be gentle — she has never — please — go slowly — please—"

He looked at the amber eyes.

Leaned forward.

His mouth found her chest — the left side, lips closing warm and full around the nipple that was already peaked and leaking, and he pulled with teeth.

"—AAAHN~!!!—" The mother’s body answered before she did, her back trying to lift off the stone.

Her legs came up. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Involuntary — both knees bending and rising, legs swinging forward with the specific urgency of a body that had been pushed past the part where decisions happen — and they wrapped.

Around both of them.

Around the daughter, around him — legs locking behind him with the grip of muscles that had decided without asking permission, trapping the arrangement in place, her daughter pinned between them by her own mother’s body.

Not intentional.

Just what happens when someone puts teeth where he had put teeth, when the body is already three steps ahead of the mind.

He bit down.

"—KYAAANGHHH~!!!—" Her leg tightened around him hard.

His free hand found the daughter’s chest, fingers finding the nipple and pinching.

"—AAAHN~!!!—"