Violet, the Spirit of Lust
Violet had already saturated Victor's clothing with her desire, her body aflame with hunger and expectation for what was to be. She nodded rapidly, a gentle, desperate hum escaping her lips as Victor left the room. Moments after, from the rear of a tree shadow, he emerged—and the scene might have appeared ridiculous to anyone else: a proud man running through the narrow stone alleys of the fortress with a stunning woman holding tight to his back.
To Violet, however, it was not in the least ridiculous. Each heartbeat was the wild exhilaration of a wild girl sneaking away with her secret lover. She shivered against his chest, her cheeks flushing as she pushed in closer, luxuriating in the hard power of his back. His heat grounded her, made her feel secure, while his hand never wavered from her curves—his palm wrapped tight around her soft ass, as if he couldn't possibly release her.
Their flight was short-lived. Soon Victor led her to a small row of stone cottages, plain at first glance—except for the jars outside, each covered with yellow flowers that released a sweet, heady scent into the air. Without hesitation, he slipped into a cottage Violet had summoned with her own magic, leading her directly to the plain one-room interior.
The room seemed to mirror its hasty construction: dull stone walls, two weathered pieces of furniture, and a thin bed that seemed anything but hospitable. Victor paused, if only for a moment, and Violet glimpsed the soft line of doubt in his eyes.
"This bed… it's small, and not terribly comfortable," She said softly, almost as if she were offering an apology. "I could only manage this much for the time being."
He shook her head with a reassuring smile, his eyes soft but glowing with want. "It's fine. Don't worry about me. I'll manage."
Her shoulders relaxed at her words, although the gentleness in his tone affected her more deeply than the simple bed ever had. She no longer cared about comfort—her body burned too fiercely, wanting him beyond sense. Even if they had lain down on the hard cold stone floor, she would have been glad.
Her lips parted in a ravenous smile, her breathing ragged as she wrapped her arms around him, her eyes sparkling with desire. "Then don't hold back," she breathed, voice raw and husky with hunger. "Just fuuuck me hard, now, because I can't wait any longer!"
Victor did not hesitate to push Violet onto the little bed and rip at his shirt with haste. His actions were hasty, frantic, so nervous that he tore the fabric in frustration. Violet observed him with a gentle smile, her eyes blazing with evil glee as she relished the view of him fumbling like a madman.
She had on a mere thin white gown, the easiest thing she could call forth with the residual of her mana. That tenuous fabric clung to her form, tracing every curve, every mystery, and she knew the mere sight would send him mad.
It didn't take Victor long to undress himself bare, his clothes lying haphazardly on the ground. But Violet, shaking with urgency, didn't wait for him. Her hands glided down between her thighs, her fingers already playing around herself as gentle moans fell from her lips. The sound made Victor's chest feel like it was suffocating, his body burning at the sight.
She didn't know why she had lost herself like this. Over the years, she had touched many, tasted many—her experience in carnal pleasures was unmatched. Yet now, her own body betrayed her, feverish and restless, craving the man before her more than anything. She wondered if it was because Victor was unlike the others. He hadn't pounced on her like a starving beast, hadn't treated her like prey. Or maybe it was just because he was the most perilously handsome man she had ever laid eyes on.
Her mind became cloudy as her fingers moved in tighter circles, and she couldn't help but imagine how it would be when he finally plunged deep inside of her, ripping apart the gnawing hunger that ravaged her.
Victor's mind was a war, though. His previous life raced through his head—nights with dozens of women: widows, divorcées, strangers seeking heat. He had given them his body, but not his soul. And even though he had fucked many, never had he felt this heat, this heaviness on his chest.
Now, facing Violet, he was shaking. He desired her—God, he desired her more than he'd ever wanted anybody. But underlying that desire was guilt, a secret shame. Was it just lust? Or was this something much more sinister?
He balled his fists, his breathing uneven. He knew what this was. Passion. Something he had only ever read in books, the kind that consumed reason and left only desire.
This crazy passion was clouding his senses, and he had a hard time even doing something simple, like taking off his clothes. He couldn't help blushing when he got naked, and his cock pointed stiffly upwards, showing that it is more than ready to work hard.
Drool fell from Violet's lips as her eyes drank in the sight of him. That heavy, thudding length caught her breath, and for an instant she wondered if this was indeed the fabled great dragon. The space between them burned, thick with lust. Their silence was louder than words, each look full of hunger.
"I want to fuck you so hard that I won't be able to move!" he growled, voice shaking with nerves and pure lust.
"Then come and eat me completely!" Violet responded unhesitantly, her voice laced with temptation.
He flung himself onto the bed, lips meeting hers in a frenzied, feverish kiss. Their mouths met, tongues flying wildly, as if each were starved to the point of madness. Her gentle fingers closed around his and pulled them to the strap of her dress. Shaking with need, they together slid the strap down, revealing her smooth skin. That one scrap of fabric dropped away, and her nakedness seared into his gaze.
Victor's mind was drowning in her. The analytical, calculating mind of a transmigrator, the gigolo who had once known a thousand women, was stumbling in front of her—because this was not merely lust. This was Violet, a soul of desire personified, and she was giving herself to him. He kissed down her neck, along her dainty clavicle, breathing in her sweet scent as if it were the only oxygen he could get.
Violet arched her back slightly, murmuring a silent chant beneath her breath. Magic wove around her, a contract beginning to form, but she didn't stop him. His mouth traveled lower until he reached the proud curves of her breasts. Perfect, round, and soft beyond words. His lips parted in awe.
"You're so fucking sexy," he whispered against her skin, unable to hold it in.
A crafty grin spread on Violet's lips as she brought his head closer, pushing it hard against her chest. "Then demonstrate. These breasts from now on will be reserved only for you… so take good care of them."
He groaned assent, unable to speak his thanks. Instead, his mouth closed around her stiff nipple, sucking greedily like a starving man. Her high-pitched moan shook the room, quivering with the sweet pain of pleasure. His other hand stroked the twin mound, kneading gently, worshipping her with every gentle touch.
Her flavor, her aroma, the warmth of her skin—it was too much. He had been with other women before, thousands even, but this was different. Every groan she let out, every curl of her body, caused his heart to thump like it was the first time for him.
He couldn't think of anything else. Nothing but Violet. But in the back of his mind, one thing gnawed at him as his lips tracked downward, teasing, heading in the direction of her most intimate area.
He couldn't help but ask himself—what will it taste like?