Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!

Dalia stirred, her eyelids fluttering as she slowly regained consciousness. A soft warmth pressed against her lips—gentle, hesitant.

Her foggy mind struggled to make sense of it until her eyes opened fully.

Claude, his son.

His face was so close, his eyes closed, his lips resting against hers in a quiet, lingering kiss.

Her breath hitched, confusion flickering across her fevered mind. "Claude… what are you doing?"

At the sound of her mother voice, Claude's eyes snapped open. He pulled back slightly, his expression tense, his breath uneven.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he murmured, his voice laced with guilt.

"But I have to do this."

His words were strange. "You believe in me, don't you?" he asked, his tone desperate.

Dalia frowned, confused. "Of course, I believe in you," she answered without hesitation.

But something had been nagging at her. Her vision blurred, and then—

"Claude… why are your eyes red?"

Hearing her question, Claude felt both relief and worry. Relief because she still trusted him. Worry because she was starting to hallucinate.

'It can't be helped… I have to do this. Please, forgive me for what I'm about to do.'

He slowly crawled on top of her, the bed creaking beneath them. She didn't resist, only staring into his eyes, lost in confusion. Her gaze made his stomach churn.

Claude had experience with women before—brief, meaningless encounters—but this was different.

He had never loved anyone in his first life. Those nights had been nothing more than a necessity, a fleeting indulgence.

But now, he was here. With her mother. The woman he loved the most. And for the first time, he didn't know how to continue.

'Right… I should undress her first.'

He took a slow, shaky breath and reached for the hem of her white gown. His fingers brushed against the soft fabric, peeling it away inch by inch, revealing what felt like forbidden divinity.

Her skin was pale, bathed in the crimson glow of the blood moon, as if she were a painting stained with red ink.

Her breasts rose and fell with each shallow breath, untouched, perfect. Her pink nipples stood perked, so beautiful, so delicate.

She was a masterpiece—something crafted by the gods themselves.

'I'm going to hell for fucking my mom. But, hey, I'm already an existence hated by all. One more sin won't make me worse… right?'

He took a deep breath.

"Claude? What are you doing?"

His mother voice jolted him from his thoughts. He looked up, meeting those jewel-like blue eyes that seemed to pierce through him.

His throat went dry. "I… I'm going to make you like me," he confessed.

"But to do that… I have to have intercourse with you, Mother." He couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze.

Dalia blinked. Then, to his surprise, she chuckled. "You must be joking."

Her laughter stung more than it should have.

Claude clenched his fists, his crimson eyes darkening. "I'm not joking," he said, his voice firm.

"I know you'll hate me for this, but… I have to do it."

He knew he could change his appearance to Theo—to lessen his guilt, to protect their relationship.

But Claude was too selfish for that. He wanted her to know it was him.

That it was him who made love to her, that it was his touch, his presence she would remember for the rest of her life.

Dalia's breath caught. She widened her eyes, unsure of how to respond. But Claude had no time to hesitate.

He leaned in again, capturing her lips in a deep, desperate kiss.

This time, there was no hesitation. His lips moved against hers, consuming, claiming, his hunger fueled by something beyond desire.

His body pressed against her, and when she didn't fight back—when she responded—he felt a mix of relief and torment.

'Maybe she thinks this is just a dream…'

The thought annoyed him.

'No. I won't let her think that.'

He bit her lip, making her flinch. She gasped, her lips parting, and he took the chance to slide his tongue into her mouth, exploring, tasting.

He traced over her teeth, her tongue, claiming every inch.

Their saliva mixed as Dalia moaned into the kiss, her dizziness making her more sensitive.

Claude deepened the kiss, their tongues tangled in a fiery dance, his dominance leaving her breathless.

When her trembling hands pressed against his bare chest, he knew he had to stop.

Their lips parted, a thin string of saliva connecting them before breaking.

Dalia lay beneath him, helpless, her chest rising and falling, her lips swollen, her fevered body sensitive to his every touch.

She looked vulnerable. She looked lost.

She looked beautiful, she looks like a whore.

And Claude hated himself for loving it.

But he shook his head. His body was still in pain, and he knew his mother was running out of time. He had to move faster.

Claude pressed his lips to her neck, trailing kisses down her skin, leaving behind faint marks as his hand squeezed her breast, earning a soft moan from her lips.

"Ahhh~ Claude…"

Her voice, breathy and sweet, was like a melody to him. He could feel her hands tangling in his dark hair, gripping tightly.

It had been so long since anyone had touched her like this, and without realizing it, she found herself craving more.

'She loves it… she loves my touch.'

The thought sent a shiver through him, but his hands faltered for a moment. He was still nervous.

Even with all his past experiences, this was different—she was his mother after all.

It feels wrong and right at the same time.

But the moment his fingers grazed her pussy, he felt it—warm, wet.

"Hnnngh… That part is—!"

Her words broke off into a gasp as he brushed against her entrance, sliding up to her clit and twisting it gently, making her moan even louder.

"Ohhh!!! Claude!!! It feels weird!" She wanted to say she wanted more, but she bit her lip instead.

Her moral telling her that this was wrong but her pussy screaming other things

Claude smirked. He knew his mother loved it. Slowly, he slid one finger inside, making sure she was ready for the big gun.

Dalia covered her mouth, trying to stifle her moans, but the way her son finger moved inside her, curling, searching for that perfect spot—it was driving her insane.

She needed more.

"Claude… Mmmnnnhhh!!! Ohhhhnnn!!! Good… it feels so good!"

"I'm glad you like it, Mother," Claude murmured. "But this is just the start. I'll make sure you enjoy every second of it."

He kissed her deeply, his lips claiming hers as he slid another finger inside, making his mother body jolt in response.

As their kiss broke, Dalia suddenly screamed, "AAHHH!!! THAT'S THE SPOT!"

'Bingo.' He grinned, having finally found it.

Claude didn't stop. His fingers worked tirelessly, curling, scissoring, coaxing her open while his thumb circled her clit.

"It feels so good, Claude!!! Hnngghhh!!!"

Her hands clutched at the soft white sheets, her back arching slightly off the bed.

"Ughh!!! Ohh!!! I can't—!!!"

He could feel how wet she had become, how her walls clenched around his fingers, trembling, tightening. She was close.

"HNGGG!!! OHH!!! AHHH!!! COMIINHH!!!"

And then she shattered, her body convulsing as pleasure overtook her. He felt the way she clenched around his fingers, the way she trembled beneath him.

Claude swallowed hard, his mind racing with a single thought—if this felt like heaven, he could only imagine how it would feel when he was finally inside his mother.