Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion-Chapter 332 - Night Bled into Morning

Their mouths descended.

Both of them. Slow, then hungry.

Veronica’s lips wrapped around the crown first — the soft, practiced press of a woman who had done this before and understood the value of patience. Her tongue dragged a slow, deliberate circle below the ridge, tasting herself and Frau Müller both, the mingled evidence of a night already soaked into every ridge of him.

Frau Müller — still trembling, still leaking, her thighs pressed together instinctively against the slow warm seep from her ass — lowered herself beside Veronica with the cautious, disbelieving movement of a woman whose legs barely worked anymore.

’That... long thick thing. Still hard. How.’

She pressed her face beside Veronica’s at the shaft. Her tongue came out. She licked up the side without strategy, the way a woman licks something when her brain has gone quiet and only her body is still making decisions.

He watched them both from above, elbow propped, entirely calm.

"Good girls," he said.

Veronica’s eyes flicked up.

Frau Müller just kept licking.

He turned his intense gaze to Frau Müller. "Awaken the bloodline of Müller instantly."

A system window popped up before her eyes.

[Awakening of Siren bloodline.]

It pinged instantly, flooding her with power. The Siren bloodline awakened, transforming her voice into something far more seductive and melodic while reshaping her throat’s architecture — warmer, silkier, with perfect rippling suction that hugged and massaged him like it was made for this. It would make her moans enchanting and bring him to climax much faster.

Her eyes fluttered as new sensations hit. "Haaahn~... Raven... my throat feels so strange... so hot and eager for you~♡"

He stood at the foot of the bed without warning.

Both women startled — two pairs of eyes blinking up at him with the dazed, half-drugged look of women who had expected to stay exactly where they were until morning light made it unavoidable.

He looked at them both. The red hair splayed across the pillow, one arm half-risen. The dark hair still wild and tangled, dark eyes wide, thighs pressed together and still glistening.

"Veronica," he said. "Edge."

She knew what that meant.

She sat at the edge of the bed — legs hanging, back straight, red hair falling forward — and she tipped her chin up like a woman who understood that this was not a question.

His hand found her jaw.

His cock pressed forward.

"Open."

She opened.

He pressed in slow, watching her throat work, watching her eyes water at the corners with the stretch — not the stop-kind of watering, the full-kind, the reflexive tears of a passage that had been asked to do something it found demanding.

She took it.

Her fingers found his thighs.

He thrust.

PAH. PAH.

"Mmghhhk—!! Nnghfk—!!"

The sounds she made were not words. They were the sounds of a woman being mouth-fucked with her throat used like something wet and tight and fully available — the muffled, choked, obscene music of it filling the room with a new rhythm.

Meanwhile —

His right hand moved.

He reached down past her shoulder without looking, and his fingers found Frau Müller still on the bed behind Veronica — her heavy breast warm and full under his palm. He kneaded. Slow, crushing, thorough. The nipple went stiff between two fingers and he pinched it with the lazy authority of a man doing two things at once and doing both well.

"Ahhh~!! Unh—!!" Frau Müller arched, her voice already carrying a new melodious tone from the awakened bloodline.

His fingers moved lower.

They found the warm, still-soaked center of her and pressed in with two fingers at once — not asking, just entering, and her hips bucked up with the involuntary lurch of a body that had been empty for thirty seconds and had apparently decided that was too long.

’Inside again. That — his fingers reach — why do they reach so—’

PAH PAH PAH.

"Mmgkkff—!! HNNGHK—!! HHFF—!!"

Veronica’s throat worked around him with the helpless, clenching pull of something trying to breathe and swallow and hold on all at once.

Her fingers gripped his thighs white-knuckled.

Her eyes were streaming fully now. Not sad. Just filled.

PAH PAH PAAAH!

"MMNGHHHH~!!! GKFF—!! HHhh—!!"

He pulled back.

The release of her throat produced a long, wet, desperate gasp from Veronica — a sound that was equal parts relief and loss, her mouth hanging open, jaw aching, spit-slick chin shining in the low light.

"On her," he said.

Veronica moved at once, climbing over Frau Müller so their bodies pressed together — red hair falling across dark hair, two women stacked in the warm press of chests and bellies and the slick evidence of the entire evening trapped between them like a secret.

’Her skin is so warm. She’s so—’

Frau Müller’s thought went nowhere.

His cock found Veronica’s entrance from behind.

He did not pause.

He pressed in.

PAH.

"AHHNN~!!" Veronica’s back arched, and the arch pressed her whole weight forward, pressing Frau Müller deeper into the sheets — the woman beneath letting out a crushed, shocked moan as every inch of Veronica’s body used her as a mattress.

"OUNGH~!! SHE’S—!! YOU’RE—!! Haaahn~♡"

Frau Müller was being pressed flat by the weight of a second woman being fucked hard on top of her.

She didn’t move away.

’His balls. Right there. Above me.’

She understood what her body wanted before she thought it.

Her neck craned up.

Her mouth found him — the warm, heavy weight of his balls, and she took them in carefully, her tongue rolling underneath with the slow, deliberate attention of a woman who had decided that this was her contribution and she was going to do it properly. "Mmmh~♫ Your balls taste so good~ Haa~ Keep fucking her on top of me~"

PAH PAH PAH.

"AHNGH~!! NGH~!! RAVEN—!! RIGHT—!! RIGHT THERE—!!"

Veronica’s fingers dug into the sheets on either side of Frau Müller’s head.

Her hips drove back to meet every thrust with the greedy, helpless push of a woman who had forgotten everything except the feeling of being this full.

’Hot. Long. Every ridge. I feel every—’

PAH PAH PAAAH!

"HAAH~!! AANGHH~!! HIEK—!! DON’T—!! DON’T STOP—!!"

Frau Müller worked his balls with her tongue in long, careful pulls — her own fingers finding her own soaked center because nobody else was and her body was rioting. "Haaahn~♫ Ahn~ So intense~♡"

He looked at the ceiling.

Seventeen days left now. Osaka. A girl with a wooden sword and the specific brand of defiance that came from never being touched right.

’Two more days gone. Worth it.’

His hips accelerated.

PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH!

"WAAHHH~!! AAANHH~!! NGH~!! I — SOMETHING—!! RAVEN I’M—!!"

"MMHHNNN~♫ UNHH~!! HHNNGH~!! So good~♡" — Frau Müller below, muffled and wet and completely occupied, her Siren voice turning every sound into pure, melodic temptation.

He pulled out.

Both women made a sound of protest without coordinating it.

He ignored it.

"Together," he said.

He pressed their breasts together himself — one hand on Veronica’s full, flushed chest, one hand on the heavy, warm weight of Frau Müller’s — and he mashed them into each other with the casual, satisfied force of a man who had thought of this and decided it was time.

The cleavage formed between four breasts was obscene. Warm. Slick with sweat.

He pressed his cock between them.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

The sound of his hips meeting the pressed-together mounds of two women — the warm, damp slap of flesh on flesh on flesh — filled the room with a new, deeper rhythm.

Veronica looked down.

’The head disappears between us and then— oh. The way it looks.’