Chapter 858 - 857- Sofia got to meet Class President

Chapter 858: Chapter 857- Sofia got to meet Class President

I looked down at her. At the face, which was wet and beautiful. At the body, which was marked and claimed. At the woman, who was now my wife in every way that mattered.

"Do you want to get pregnant by me?" I said. The question, which was a formality, was a courtesy. The deed, which had already been done, was a fact. But the words, which her mind needed to say, were the last barrier.

She trembled. The question, which was not a question but a confirmation, was the final step. The last wall. The last defense.

"Yes," she whispered. The word, which was barely a sound, was the word of a woman who had given up everything. Her pride. Her position. Her identity. All of it, traded for a single word.

The system popped.

[Impregnation Confirmed]

[Gestation: 3 months]

[Ability Gained: Weaponry Knowledge x100]

My tail, which was still inside her, vibrated harder. The frequency, which was a celebration, was a pulse. The walls, which had been relaxing, clenched. The orgasm, which was a confirmation, was a final claim.

She screamed. The sound, which was muffled by the pillow that her face had turned into, was a surrender. Her body, which had been limp, convulsed. The pleasure, which was the last wave, carried her into unconsciousness.

A knock.

The sound, which was soft and hesitant, came from the door. Two knocks. A pause. Then two more. The pattern, which was the same as Seraphina’s, was a question.

I smiled. The expression, which was invisible in the dark, was a thought.

’Is it Sofia?’

I turned. The motion, which was casual, brought me to my feet. The bed, which had been shaking, stilled. Seraphina, who had been beneath me, was limp. Her body, which was spent, was still. Her breathing, which was deep and regular, was the breathing of a woman who had been fucked unconscious.

I snapped my fingers. The door, which had been locked, opened. The sound, which was a click, was quiet.

The door swung. The hallway light, which was bright after the dim room, poured in. The figure, which was standing in the doorway, was silhouetted.

Sofia.

She stood there. Her body, which was wrapped in a simple dress, was small. Her horns, which caught the light, were polished. Her eyes, which were brown and wide, were the eyes of a woman who had been building courage for hours.

Her books, which she had been carrying, were pressed against her chest. The gesture, which was a shield, was the posture of a woman who was protecting herself from something. From the decision she had made. From the man she had come to see.

Her eyes, which had been on my face, dropped. Down. Past my chest. Past my stomach. To my cock, which was still hard and slick, hanging between my legs. The head, which was dark and swollen, was wet. The shaft, which was veined and thick, was visible.

Then further. Past me. To the bed. To Seraphina, who was lying on the sheets. Naked. Her body, which was visible, was a picture of depravation. Her breasts, heavy and full, were exposed. Her nipples, which were leaking milk, were dark. Her legs, which were spread, were open. Her pussy, which was leaking cum, was a mess. The fluid, white and thick, ran from her entrance. Down her thighs. Onto the sheets.

The dress, which had been Seraphina’s nightdress, was on the floor. The clothes, which were scattered, were evidence. The room, which smelled of sex and cum and milk, was a crime scene.

Sofia’s eyes widened. The brown, which had been warm, went wide. The pupils, which had been small, dilated. The shock, which was total and immediate, was the shock of a woman who had walked into a scene that she had not expected.

"I will... I will come some time later," she said. Her voice, which was high and breathless, was the voice of a woman who was trying to retreat. "I am sorry. I did not mean to..."

She turned. The motion, which was fast and clumsy, was a flight response. Her feet, which had been planted, moved. Her body, which had been facing the door, pivoted. Her books, which had been against her chest, shifted.

I snapped my fingers.

The telekinesis, which was a whisper of mana, caught her. The force, which was invisible and gentle, wrapped around her waist. The pull, which was steady and irresistible, lifted her from the floor. Her feet, which had been running, left the ground. Her body, which had been retreating, was dragged.

She flinched. The sensation, which was the feeling of being grabbed by nothing, was terrifying. Her books, which had been in her arms, fell. The sound, which was the clatter of paper on stone, was the sound of a woman’s escape being cut short.

She was pulled. Through the air. Into the room. Onto the bed. The landing, which was soft because she landed on the mattress, was still jarring. Her body, which had been in the hallway, was now on the bed. Next to Seraphina. Next to me.

"What is..." she said. The word, which was the beginning of a question, was the word of a woman whose brain had stalled.

I grabbed her horn. The appendage, which was curved and smooth, was a handle. My fingers, wrapping around the base, gripped. The horn, which was sensitive in beast-folk, was an erogenous zone. The contact, which was firm but not painful, made her gasp.

I pulled. The motion, which brought her head toward me, was a claim. Her body, which had been trying to escape, was now against mine. Her face, which had been turned away, was toward me. Her eyes, which had been wide with fear, were on mine.

I hugged her. My arms, which had been at my sides, wrapped around her. Her body, which was small and warm, was pressed against mine. Her breasts, which were perky and full, were against my chest. Her horns, which were against my shoulder, were hard. Her tail, which was tufted and long, was between us.

I groped her. My hands, which had been holding her, moved. Over her back. Over her ass. Over her thighs. The dress, which was thin and simple, was no barrier. The body, which was thick and soft, was a feast.

She cried. The sound, which was soft and muffled by my chest, was the sound of a woman who was overwhelmed. Her eyes, which had been on my face, dropped. Down. Past my chest. Past my stomach.

To the bed. To Seraphina. Who was lying beside them. Naked. Spent. Glowing.

Her eyes widened. The recognition, which was instant, was the recognition of a woman she knew. A woman she saw every day. A woman who was her superior in the academy hierarchy.

"Class president?" she said. The words, which were barely a whisper, were the words of a woman who had just found her superior naked and cum-covered in a professor’s bed.

"She was delicious," I said. The words, which were warm and casual, were delivered while looking at Seraphina’s body. "Are you too, Dear Sofia?"