Licking her lips, she purred, "What are you waiting for?"
Isaac drew in a deep, steadying breath, steeling himself for the heart of the matter, and stop himself from directly going for the main deed.
He had to make her beg for it, crave him until surrender was her only salvation.
He summoned the same intoxicating ability she’d wielded earlier, flooding the air around them with a heady aphrodisiac scent, thick and velvety, like forbidden nectar.
Catherine’s cheeks bloomed with a deep, rosy flush, and she gifted him a smile so breathtaking it stole the air from his lungs.
"This is not enough to win, darling. I had the willpower to stay pure for years, just a single night won’t break that willpower," she murmured, her voice a silken caress, dripping with seduction.
The word darling struck like a spark to dry tinder, sending Isaac’s heart into a wild, thunderous gallop.
He inhaled sharply once more, then leaned in, closing the distance with deliberate grace.
He dipped his head, claiming her mouth again, but languidly this time, teasing, and savoring her.
His tongue danced along the plush curve of her lips before delving deeper. It was a slow, deliberate thrust that echoed the rhythm he ached to unleash below.
One hand glided up the silken plane of her side, his thumb grazing the tender swell beneath her breast, separated only by delicate lace.
She arched into his touch like a bowstring drawn taut. A soft, desperate whine slipped free before she trapped it behind her teeth.
Isaac caught the tremor, and the raw vulnerability in that stifled sound.
Seizing the moment, he cupped her breast fully, kneading with the assured rhythm of a man who knew every secret map of desire, every hidden path to ecstasy.
Catherine’s lips curved into a seductive smile.
She had no desire to conceal her fire, no wish to dim the blaze they were kindling together.
With a flick of his fingers, he parted the lace, baring her breasts to the heated air.
They were magnificent. Full and pale as moonlight-kissed marble, yielding softly under his palms like the ripest fruit begging to be savored.
He leaned down and traced a slow, reverent lick across one peak.
"Anngh...!!"
Catherine gasped, startled by the fierce jolt of pleasure that ripped through her, electric and unbidden, leaving her trembling in its wake.
Isaac’s smile turned leisurely, predatory, as he descended further, nipping at her nipples with just enough edge to tease, pinching them into taut, aching buds while his hands continued their expert, worshipful knead.
Soft, helpless moans began to spill from Catherine’s lips, unbidden and intoxicating, like wine overflowing a chalice.
’She is pretty sensitive,’ Isaac mused, his own pulse roaring in triumph.
She was already slick with need, her hips canting upward in silent, instinctive plea, her core—her sweet little secret—throbbing with a hunger that arched her spine like an offering.
But Isaac held back, denying her the mercy of his touch there, building the torment layer by exquisite layer.
He claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, lavished her breasts with devoted attention, interspersed with languid licks along the vulnerable column of her neck, all while murmuring fevered words of love into the shell of her ear.
Catherine refused to yield.
Her tails materialized. They slithered downward, deftly unfastening his pants and easing them open, tugging them free along with his boxers in one fluid, teasing glide.
Her fingers encircled him at last, warm and soft, beginning a stroke that was pure torment.
It was deliberately slow, agonizingly so.
Her tails joined the seduction, coiling around his waist, his thighs, his back in a cocoon of plush, fluffy warmth. They were comforting, and ensnaring, like being swathed in living desire.
Isaac nearly surrendered then. The urge to collapse into her embrace and let her draw every drop of pleasure from him was nearly overwhelming.
His body screamed for mercy, urging him to plead for her to quicken the pace of her hand, to shatter him with speed.
But he clamped down on his lower lip with savage resolve, biting until the copper tang of blood welled up.
He knew this night was irreplaceable, and could only happen once.
He could not lose to her.
Catherine’s eyes widened in alarm as the metallic bite flooded their shared breath.
"Isaac—"
He silenced her before the word could fully form, sealing her lips with his own in a kiss.
The taste of his blood mingled on their tongues.
Catherine’s tongue, ever tender, sought out the wounded flesh, laving it with gentle, worried strokes, as if she could heal him with her care alone.
Witnessing that devotion—even here, in the throes of their battle—ignited something primal in Isaac.
The depth of her love set his blood aflame.
He called upon the flames, and a flicker of flame licked at her upper garments, reducing them to ash in a whisper of heat, leaving her gloriously exposed.
Then, with excruciating patience, his hand began its descent—finger by lingering finger—trailing across her skin.
From the lush curve of her breast, over the taut plane of her abdomen, dipping into the sensitive hollow of her navel, and lower still, to...
Catherine’s breath snagged in her throat.
She yearned for him to claim her most sacred depths, to breach that untouched sanctum, but the very thought was a siren’s call to defeat.
It was a whisper of submission she couldn’t afford.
Yet she pressed on, her strokes along his length regaining their slow, sensual cadence. Her own aphrodisiac scent weaved through the air like a spell of silk and sin.
For someone like her, who was doing this for the first time, this was all she could come up with to seduce Isaac.
In the end, learning to tease people was easy. It was a dance she’d mastered. She had been doing it for years.
But this?
This visceral, skin-to-skin alchemy?
It was a virgin territory, one that Isaac navigated with the ease of a seasoned cartographer, charting her every quiver, and one where she was a maiden.
Then—
"Anggh... Anngh...!"
Her hips bucked wildly, spine bowing off the bed as Isaac’s fingers delved at last, moving with sensual precision that erased her thoughts in a blaze of white-hot ecstasy.
’Is this what every Celestial Kitsune feel in the throes of passion?’
The revelation crashed over her like a wave.
No wonder her kind surrendered to madness for it. For the sheer, shattering bliss.
In that instant, she craved him buried deep, stretching her, filling every hidden crevice until there was no space left for anything but him.
Her hands faltered on his shaft. The rhythmic strokes dissolved into desperate clutches.
They tangled in his hair instead, pulling him closer, devouring his mouth with ferocity.
A faint, rebellious corner of her mind wondered why he seemed unshaken. Why pleasure this cataclysmic didn’t reduce him to the same quivering ruin.
But clarity pierced the haze: experience.
He had experience that allowed him to pace himself.
’I’m going to lose.’
The truth settled like a velvet noose.
She was going to lose.
She had to do something.
’But...’
Her gaze locked on his, molten with lust yet softened by something achingly tender: adoration that pierced straight to his core.
Isaac felt like he would give up if he looked at those tendering eyes looking at him with love.
He squeezed his eyes shut and captured her lips again.
He teetered on the brink himself. The absence of her hand’s wicked warmth was a torment that clawed at his restraint.
And those eyes—brimming with love, unguarded and infinite—threatened to make him loose the sight of his goal.
His fingers plunged deeper, curling with devastating intent, wringing a shudder from her that rippled through them both.
"How does it feel?"
"Haaah... it... haah... feels.... good..."
"Then, do you want to feel even better?"
"Better? How— aaaangh....!"
Her body seized in ecstasy, hips snapping upward as release claimed her in a blinding rush, leaving her gasping.
’She’s so responsive. She came quickly,’ Isaac thought, a thrill of possessive wonder surging through him.
He shifted upward, positioning himself between her parted thighs. The heat of her was calling to him like a siren’s song.
Catherine’s vision swam in a haze of bliss.
In her narrowed world, all she saw his shaft, gripped in his hand, gliding teasingly along her slick folds.
She quivered at the intimate friction. Their fluids mixed, and made indecent sounds. but it only excited her further.
"I can make you feel infinitely more good if you beg me for it."
"I... haah.... Haah... still hold on."
Isaac’s chuckle was laced with amusement as he noted her stare fixed not on his face, but on the shaft.
He lowered himself, pressing her breast beneath the weight of his chest, and kissed her for a moment before pulling back.
Locking eyes with hers, he murmured enchantingly, "Why are you so worried about the bet? What’s more important is that we love each other."
The words whispered into her ear sent shivers cascading down her spine like liquid fire.
She felt his shaft below, heavy and insistent against her core, moving with slow, maddening gentleness.
Each brush was a spark. Each glide was a torment.
Memories flooded her: his fingers turning her mind into white-hot ecstasy.
And deeper still, her instincts roared.
It was a primal, unyielding demand for him. Not tender vows, not whispered affections.
They urged her to yield, to mate with the male who pinned her, claimed her, as if she were his by divine right, like animal.
’No, if I lose here...’
"Catherine."
Her spiraling thoughts shattered like fragile glass as Isaac cradled her face in his hands.
His touch was feather-light, and his voice was a velvet murmur laced with boundless affection.
"Is this not enough? Or do you not like me enough that you don’t even want to do it?"
That gaze—raw, vulnerable, brimming with the quiet ache of unspoken fears—tore through her defenses.
Her mind, already a whirlwind of fractured desire, drowned in the chaos.
In her haze of inexperience, blind to the cunning flicker hidden in the curve of his smile, she saw only the Isaac of the past: her sweet little brother, trailing after her with those same worried eyes, seeking her light in the shadows.
"...give it to me."
"What?"
"...haah... your cock... put in my pussy..."
"Can you say please?"
In that suspended heartbeat, a clone of hers appeared.
She, the clone, pressed against Isaac from behind. Her naked breasts molded to the taut planes of his back like heated silk. Her soft abdomen glided against his skin in a slow, deliberate caress that ignited sparks along his nerves.
Her hand wrapped around his throbbing shaft, guiding it with wicked precision toward the slick, quivering heat of the Catherine pinned beneath him.
And then, in a voice that dripped like molten honey—her own timbre, but laced with triumphant surrender—the clone whispered against his ear, "Isaac, I lost the bet. Can you please give me your cock? Please make a mess out of me. And own me."
Isaac’s breath caught, his eyes snapping to hers, to the one beneath him, whose gaze had softened with feigned fragility moments before.
Now it gleamed with the sharp, feral glint of a predator toying with its prey. All innocence was stripped away in a rush of revelation.
And coupled with those honeyed pleas, it hit him like a thunderclap.
’She never planned to win!’
"Wait—"
The word barely escaped his lips before the clone struck, her hands firm on his hips, shoving him forward with inexorable grace.
His cock breached her in one searing glide, parting the silken barrier of her hymen, claiming the untouched depths she’d guarded so fiercely.
Catherine bit her lip, a sharp sting of pain blooming amid the overwhelming fullness.
The exquisite stretch, the velvet grip of her walls clenching around him like a lover’s desperate embrace. It was all too vivid.
The pain melted away in an instant, transmuted into a torrent of pleasure that flooded her veins, hot and unrelenting.
She felt their bodies align in primal harmony, navels brushing like a forbidden kiss, her pussy devouring him inch by throbbing inch, milking him with rhythmic, instinctive pulses that drew him deeper into her core.
"Your cock... is... haah... stretching me out. This... is my first time... haah... feeling so good."
"Listen to me for—"
Isaac tried to stop.
The verbal assault and the excitement of seeing Catherine losing to him was overwhelming.
He tried to withdraw, to reclaim the reins of their game, but the Catherine at his back was merciless. Her palms pressed his waist forward in a single, devastating thrust.
That one stroke—deep, unyielding, wrapped in the symphony of her moans and the slick heat enveloping him—unraveled him completely.
He had relaxed into victory too soon, his guard crumbling under the weight of triumph.
Ecstasy seized him, and he erupted, ropes of hot cum pulsing deep inside her, marking her in the most intimate of claims.
"Isaac, it feels.... full and warm.... Haah... And your cock is still hard. I want... more... haah... use that cock and make a mess out of me."
"Wait— just give me a—"
"I want you to make me.... cry your name. I want to be yours, and yours only, Isaac.... Please... haah... make me yours, own me."
The onslaught crashed over him like a tidal wave.
Such brazenly vulgar words yet saturated with raw, aching love, were unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The excitement they brought was overwhelming.
His body responded with savage hunger, his cock surging back to iron rigidity within her, swelling thicker, harder, as if forged anew in the fire of her confession.
And in that crystalline moment of clarity, amid the haze of bliss and betrayal, Isaac understood.
He had won the bet, yes. Her body had yielded. Her walls were fluttering around him in sweet capitulation.
But he had lost the war, gloriously, utterly.
Catherine had never harbored any intention to win.
The reason she played along was to make him excited. She deliberately showed him everything. Her reactions and true emotions.
She knew she was going to lose and be tamed by him. And she was okay with it.
In fact, she wanted Isaac to see she wanted to be tamed. To be his.
All of it was just to excite him.
He had everything he wanted. He had won.
But he had also been played.