Chapter 32: Sister's Gift
Melina’s startled gasp was swallowed by Wanda’s cunt. The older woman’s hands flew up, not to push away, but to clutch desperately at Wanda’s thighs, her knuckles white. The scent, musky and profoundly intimate, flooded her senses. Natasha’s grip in her silver-streaked hair was iron, guiding her with a merciless tenderness.
“That’s it,” Natasha murmured, her own breath coming in short, hot pants against Melina’s neck. “Taste her. Taste how perfect she is.”
Wanda’s head fell back against the headboard, a low moan ripping from her throat. Her magic, a crimson shimmer in the air, pulsed in time with her heartbeat. She looked down, her green eyes heavy-lidded and dark with power. “Let her breathe, my love,” Wanda said, her voice a resonant command.
Natasha instantly loosened her grip, nuzzling Melina’s temple. “Sorry, Mama.”
The term, used here and now, sent a fresh jolt through Melina. She panted, her lips glistening, the taste of Wanda embedding itself in her. She didn’t pull back. Yelena watched from where she was scissored around Wanda’s magical cock, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her face. She ground down harder, taking the full, shimmering length deeper with a guttural sigh. “She likes it,” Yelena taunted, her voice ragged. “Look at her. The great Melina Vostokoff, drowning in pussy.”
“Quiet,” Wanda chided, but there was no real heat in it. Her focus was on Melina. With a touch gentler than any of them expected, Wanda threaded her fingers through Melina’s hair, not to force, but to cradle. “Look at me.”
Melina obeyed. The defiance, the decades of stoic control, were cracking like ice under a spring sun. Her eyes were wide, confused, alive.
“Do you want this?” Wanda asked, the question simple and devastating.
Natasha went very still, watching her former mentor, her almost-mother. Yelena stopped moving, enthralled.
Melina’s gaze flickered to Natasha—seeing the open, eager hope there—then back to the powerful young woman whose essence was on her tongue. Her throat worked. A lifetime of orders, of protocols, of emotional silence, warred with the warm, screaming truth in her gut. She gave one sharp, nearly imperceptible nod.
“Use your words,” Wanda urged, her thumb stroking Melina’s cheekbone.
“I… I want,” Melina choked out, the admission scraping her raw. “Yes.”
A brilliant, triumphant smile lit Wanda’s face. It was not cruel, but exultant. “Then show me. Please me.”
It was the ‘please’ that undid Melina completely. A request, not an order. She surged forward, her own need erupting, and sealed her mouth over Wanda’s clit with a desperate hunger. Her tongue, trained for linguistics and deception, found a new, savage purpose. She lapped at the swollen folds, drank the salt-sweet arousal, her nose buried in the coarse, dark curls.
Wanda cried out, a sound of pure deliverance. Her hips rolled, meeting Melina’s mouth. “Oh, fuck… yes, just like that. You beautiful, desperate thing.”
Natasha whimpered, her own need a fever pitch. She kissed Melina’s shoulder, her praise a continuous, hushed stream. “So good, Mama. You’re so good for her. For us.”
Yelena, feeling Wanda’s magic cock throb and swell inside her, began to move again, setting a grinding, deep rhythm. “Fuck, she’s gonna make you cum, witch. I can feel it building in this damn thing.” She reached down, rubbing her own clit in frantic circles. “Shit, shit…”
The room became a symphony of gasps and wet sounds and creaking wood. Wanda was the conductor, her pleasure the melody. She pushed one hand into Natasha’s red hair, pulling her up for a searing, messy kiss. “You did so well, my perfect girl,” Wanda breathed against her lips. “Bringing her to me. Look at her worship me.”
Natasha sobbed into the kiss, her praise kink ignited into a bonfire. “For you, Mommy. All for you.”
The dual sensations—Melina’s fierce, learning mouth on her cunt and Yelena’s tight, frantic heat around her cock—coiled the tension in Wanda’s belly to a breaking point. Her magic sparked, crimson tendrils snaking out to dance over the skin of all three women, a tangible echo of her ecstasy.
“Melina,” Wanda commanded, her voice vibrating with power. “Now. Make me come. And Yelena… don’t you dare stop.”
Melina’s response was a guttural moan against Wanda’s flesh. She focused, applying a ruthless, sucking pressure to Wanda’s clit while her tongue fucked deep inside.
Yelena screamed, her body bowing. “I’m there! I’m fucking there!”
Wanda’s orgasm hit like a silent thunderclap. Her back arched, every muscle taut. A wave of scarlet energy pulsed outwards, not destructive, but overwhelming, a tsunami of pure sensation. Her cunt clenched around Melina’s tongue, gushing a hot flood into her waiting mouth. Simultaneously, her magical cock erupted inside Yelena, not with seed, but with blistering waves of concentrated, magical pleasure.
Yelena shattered, her cry raw and endless, her pussy milking the shimmering phantom shaft as her own climax ripped through her in endless, dizzying waves.
Natasha, feeling the magical aftershocks ripple over her skin, simply pressed her face against Melina’s heaving back and wept, overcome.
The silence that followed was dense, broken only by the ragged symphony of their breathing. Melina slowly pulled back, her face soaked, her expression one of dazed shock. She swallowed, the taste of Wanda’s climax a permanent mark.
Wanda, spent and radiant, slid down the headboard. Her magical construct dissolved in a shower of harmless red sparks as Yelena collapsed beside her, boneless and grinning stupidly.
With a tenderness that seemed to fracture the last of Melina’s defenses, Wanda reached out and pulled the older woman up onto the bed, into the tangle of limbs. She kissed Melina’s forehead, then her salted lips. “Thank you.”
Melina could only stare, her hand coming up to shakily touch Wanda’s face. Natasha curled into Wanda’s other side, nuzzling her breast, a contented murmur escaping her.
Yelena, from her sprawled position at the foot of the bed, let out a breathless chuckle. “Well. That was a fucking family reunion.”
No one argued. The setting sun streamed through the window, painting their glistening, entwined bodies in gold and shadow. The floorboards did not creak. The house, for the moment, was still.