"A-Amy…" Oliver started, his voice cracking slightly.
Amy didn't speak. She didn't scream.
Her gaze drifted down to Oliver's still-embedded cock. Then to Ariana's flushed, ruined face. Then to Isolde's hand on Ariana's ass.
Her breathing hitched. Her face turned a shade of red that rivaled a tomato.
But she didn't leave.
Instead, her knees buckled slightly, and a soft, heated whimper escaped her lips. Her hand drifted to her own chest, clutching the fabric of her saintess robes as if her heart was beating too fast.
Isolde saw the reaction. A slow, predatory smile spread across the vampire's face.
"Well, well," Isolde purred, not letting go of Ariana. "The Saintess has come to give a blessing?"
She extended a hand toward Amy, wiggling her fingers.
"Don't just stand there, Holy One. There's plenty of room."
The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the wet, squelching sounds of Ariana's twitching pussy trying to milk the last drops of Oliver's cum from her system.
