Her own breathing had turned shallow. The leather of her vest felt too tight across her chest.
One of the older women, a veteran scout named Mira—no relation to Viktor's wife, but the coincidence made her scowl internally—muttered under her breath, "He's got her pinned like he owns the whole damn forest. And that tail… what even is he?"
Viktor's hips snapped forward one last time, grinding deep into the soft valley of Gwen's cleavage. The friction was perfect—warm, slick, yielding. Gwen's protests melted into a muffled keen. "N-not… there… ahh…"
But he was already past the edge.
Then, without warning, the world blurred.
Viktor teleported.
One moment he was grinding between Gwen's breasts in the pond, the head of his cock nudging her parted lips. The next, cool forest air kissed his wet skin as he materialized directly behind Captain Lira.
