My Taboo Harem!

Phei opened the Ashford Madam’s contact, thumb hovering over the keyboard for only a heartbeat.

Eira had confessed it herself earlier that evening—she was lying alone in that hotel suite right now, thighs already leaking and quivering with shameless need, torn between the humiliating ache of wanting him so desperately and the deeper humiliation of not reaching out first.

Barging in uninvited still felt like sacrilege.

Like smashing through the last fragile barrier of her pride where I could simply knock and let her choose to let me in.

He began typing something casual, something that wouldn’t make her bolt—

Three pulsing dots appeared at the bottom of the screen.

She was typing first.

Phei’s mouth curved into something slow and dangerous. He pocketed the phone, turned on his heel, and strode back toward the bedroom door his women had so gleefully slammed in his face just minutes earlier.

There were laughters as he entered rich, throaty and overlapping, spilling through the crack like spilled wine.

He pushed the door open without knocking.

Seven heads turned toward him in perfect, predatory unison. Seven goddesses sprawled across the enormous bed like a living altar to depravity, every curve, every glistening fold, every heaving breath arranged for his gaze alone.

There fabrics had gone all wrong!

Maddie was positioned at the very foot of the mattress, face-down on her forearms with her ass lifted obscenely high, the thin black lace thong clinging uselessly to her fat puffy pussy lips. Her cunt was visibly throbbing—outer lips parted just enough to show the slick, flushed inner petals already weeping thick, glossy strands that stretched and snapped with every tiny shift of her hips.

Obviously, she’s missing me, ins’t she?

He looked at Melissa who was reclined against the headboard like a dark empress claiming her throne, long legs splayed shamelessly wide. Her heavy tits rose and fell with deep, deliberate breaths; the areolas were puckered tight, nipples standing rigid and glistening as though already licked clean.

She smiled as she saw him and waved.

Sierra was caught mid-crawl between them, back arched into an impossible lordosis curve that thrust her ass upward like an offering, with her ass cheeks jiggling softly with every twerking she was teasing him with.

Valentina knelt upright beside her, knees spread to the breaking point, chest thrust forward so her pierced nipples stabbed the air like weapons to him.

Her eyes locked on Phei, daring him—

Maya lay on her side in a languid S-curve, one leg hooked high over Sierra’s hip.

Patricia—vicious, exquisite Patricia—occupied the dead center of the bed, face buried in the sheets, ass high, ass cheeks of his chemistry teacher were tempting as always.

These temptresses, by gods.

Every single one of them was visibly looking at him to make a move but he did not. They should be punished for their earlier decision.

He lifted a lazy hand. “Fuck… you guys make me wanna enter the bed and fuck y’all. Know What? Don’t mind me. Just grabbing something.”

Maddie’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, voice husky. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“Out.” He gave them the slow grin that always made their cunts clench hard enough to audibly squelch. “Don’t wait up.”

He vanished into the walk-in closet before the inevitable chorus of protests and needy whines could erupt.

Dark pants, black shirt that was supposed to be casual as intended but made him hotter and then last were white hoes that cost more than most people’s rent. Simple. Understated. Lethal.

When he stepped back out, Melissa’s gaze slid over him like warm, oiled silk. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

That tiny, filthy curve of her lips—combined with the fresh wetness as he focus his aura on her for a tease, that leaked from her cunt and soaked the sheets beneath her—said she already knew exactly whose divine pussy he was about to ruin tonight.

And she fucking approved.

**

“Eira,” he said, voice low and final.

The air turned sharp, crystalline, almost painful.

The penthouse dissolved in a breath of frost.

Nyxlim Hotel rose into the night like black obsidian carved by arrogant, ancient hands.

Phei stood on the sidewalk, hands in pockets, drinking in the sleek, restrained facade. High-end without begging for attention. The kind of place money built to cage its golden geese: record here, sleep here, fuck here, never leave unless we permit it.

His phone buzzed against his thigh.

Secured line. Her name glowing on the screen.

Goddess: Can you come to Nyxlim Hotel. Room 3217. Please?

That last word—please—landed like a physical blow. A woman who had spent decades as the perfect, untouchable wife of a titan told him she was more than his. To own. To take.

His thumbs moved across the glass.

Phei: What a coincidence. I’m just outside.

He stepped through the entrance before she could answer.

The lobby was obscene opulence—marble polished until it reflected every sin, chandeliers dripping frozen light like champagne caught mid-fall, furniture arranged to quietly remind everyone who sat there that they were better than the world beyond the glass doors.

The receptionist looked up as he passed. Young. Stunning. Professionally warm smile already forming. Her lips parted—probably to offer assistance, probably to politely verify whether his godliness belonged in this mortal air.

He didn’t slow. Didn’t glance. Didn’t acknowledge.

Something in his stride—the quiet, unshakable certainty of a man who had never once been denied anything he desired for the last four weeks—made her mouth snap shut again. Prey recognized predator. Staff recognized owner. Servant recognized a god.

He belonged. That was all the permission the universe required.

Elevator doors hissed open like obedient lovers. He stepped inside. Pressed 32.

Doors closed with a soft, final click.

Thirty-two floors above him, in a suite she had booked because returning home felt like defeat and remaining alone felt like torture, his succubus goddess waited.

Thighs already trembling uncontrollably. Cunt already weeping thick, desperate strands onto hotel silk. Pride already fracturing like thin ice under summer heat. Ready—beyond ready—to shatter completely the instant his fingers finally brushed her skin.