My Taboo Harem! - Chapter 208 - 208: [MISSION: FUCK & EXHAUST THE TRAINER] (r-18)

[DING! CONQUEST MISSION!]

[Target: Valentina Torres

Age: 24

Relationship: Personal Trainer]

[Status: FERAL]

[MISSION: FUCK & EXHAUST THE TRAINER]

[Objective: Fuck Valentina until she tires]

[Difficulty: HARD]

[WARNING: Target has been sexually frustrated by you for 14 consecutive days. Zero dignity remaining. Professional composure: NONEXISTENT. Additionally, target possesses elite-level physical stamina built from years of training. She will not tire easily. She will want MORE!]

[REWARD: DRAGON’S MOLT CARD!]

Upon completion, Host’s current physical development will be increased by 5x. Three weeks of training condensed and multiplied by 5x. The body you’ve been building becomes the body men would envy.]

Phei’s breath caught as he processed the reward.

Dragon’s Molt Card. Five three.

His body right now was… good. Better than good. Three weeks of Dragon Rise had transformed him from a skinny charity case into something lean and dangerous. The muscles were there—defined, functional, the kind of build that whispered I know how to use this rather than screaming I live at the gym.

But it wasn’t perfect.

His abs were still forming. Just shadows, really. The suggestion of definition rather than the thing itself. Another few weeks of training and they’d come in properly, but right now they were the one missing piece.

Times Five, though…

Times three meant everything he’d built would become 5x. The shoulders that had started filling out his shirts. The back that Valentina herself had helped sculpt. The arms, the chest, the legs—all of it, multiplied.

He’d look like the second coming of a Greek statue. An immortal given flesh. The kind of body that made women forget their own names and men question their sexuality.

His face probably wouldn’t change—the system had never promised that—but the body?

My body would be divine.

All he had to do was fuck his trainer until she tires.

Given the way she was currently grinding against him, that seemed… achievable.

Phei reached up, grabbed the weighted bar that had somehow ended up in his hands, and racked it properly.

Safety first. He put it at the rack.

He started to turn—

Valentina didn’t let him finish.

Because before Phei could fully turn, before he could even draw breath to speak, she spun with explosive strength all that coiled power from years of training unleashed in one savage motion. Her hand fisted in the front of his shirt, yanking him forward with far more force than he’d anticipated from her lean frame.

He stumbled half a step, and she used it.

She slammed him back-first against the floor-to-ceiling mirror, the glass cool against his shoulders. The impact rattled the frame, but he barely felt it; all he registered was her body crashing into his, pinning him there with desperate, hungry weight.

A low, animal growl rumbled from her throat as she ground forward, trapping his now fully hard cock between them. The length of him pressed flush along her lower belly through their clothes, hot and heavy and throbbing, and she rolled her hips once, hard, just to feel it drag against her.

“Fuck,” she hissed, voice raw and trembling with need. “See what you do to me.”

Her hands were already clawing at his shirt. She ripped it upward and off in one violent tug, fabric tearing slightly at the seams, exposing his torso to the cool gym air.

Valentina froze for half a heartbeat, eyes devouring him.

The boy who’d walked in three weeks ago skinny, soft, unremarkable was gone.

In his place was raw, sculpted power. Broad shoulders, thick chest, arms corded with new muscle. His abs weren’t fully carved yet, just the deep, shadowed beginnings of them forming beneath taut skin, but every line of him screamed strength, progress, dominance barely leashed.

He had become something to worship.

Her growl deepened, primal and possessive.

She attacked his chest with her mouth lips, tongue, teeth. Kissing hard over his pecs, licking the sweat from his skin, biting down on the firm muscle just above his nipple until he hissed. Her hands roamed greedily, nails dragging down his sides, tracing every ridge and swell she’d helped build, claiming them now like she’d been starving for the right.

She bit again, harder this time, marking the swell of his chest as her teeth sank in just enough to bruise.

Phei didn’t fight her.

He surrendered completely.

His head fell back against the mirror with a soft thud, eyes half-lidded, breath coming rough. One hand slid into her long black hair, not guiding, just holding, letting her take whatever she needed. The other gripped her hip, pulling her tighter against his aching cock, encouraging every roll, every grind.

He let her devour him.

“Finally,” she breathed, the word a ragged snarl against his skin.

Her eyes raked over him like fire, pupils blown wide, lips parted and wet. She drank in every inch that three weeks of Dragon Rise had forged: the wide, squared shoulders that could cage her in; the thick, heavy chest that rose and fell under her stare; the arms corded with new power, veins standing out along his biceps; the broad back reflected in the mirror behind her, lats flaring like wings.

And lower—fuck—his stomach. Not shredded, but the deep grooves were carving themselves in, the faint outline of abs pressing through taut skin. That sharp, obscene V plunging beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, pointing straight to the thick bulge straining for her.

Nothing like the soft, skinny kid who’d shuffled in here weeks ago.

Nothing like him at all.

“You’ve been hiding this from me,” she accused, voice low and feral. “Loose shirts, baggy hoodies—making me fucking imagine when I could’ve been tasting—”

She didn’t finish.

Her mouth crashed against his chest, open and starving. No soft kisses. She devoured him—lips sucking hard, tongue dragging over every ridge of muscle she’d helped build, teeth scraping like she wanted to brand him permanently. She moved in a frenzy: down the swell of one pec, across the valley between them, up the slope of the other.

Bite.

Sharp, deliberate, right over his nipple. Phei hissed, hips jerking forward involuntarily.

She soothed the sting with her tongue, then bit again—lower this time, on the thick muscle just above his ribs. Pulled back to admire the red bloom of her teeth marks, eyes glittering with savage satisfaction.

Bite.

Harder. On the opposite side.

Bite.

Lower still, teeth sinking into the soft skin beside his forming oblique. She growled against him, the sound vibrating straight through his bones.

“Valentina—”

“Shut, Phei!” she snarled, nails digging into his hips as she shoved him harder against the mirror. “You don’t get to talk. You don’t get to move. You made me wait. You made me watch you fuck around with those girls while I burned. Now you stay still and let me take what’s mine.”

She dropped to her knees without warning, mouth never leaving his skin.

Her tongue traced the shallow groove down the center of his stomach, slow and filthy, following the path of that emerging six-pack. She licked the faint lines forming on either side, sucked bruises into the soft skin just above his waistband, bit the sharp cut of his V so hard he groaned.

Her hands pinned his thighs apart, nails raking down the fronts, keeping him spread and helpless. Every time he twitched—every time his hands tightened in her hair—she growled deeper and bit harder, like punishment, like ownership.

She mouthed lower, lips brushing the waistband of his sweatpants, teeth grazing the fabric over the swollen head of his cock. Hot breath soaked through, teasing, promising.

Then back up—dragging her tongue through his pecs, biting his collarbone, sucking another mark into the thick muscle of his shoulder. She marked him everywhere: throat, chest, ribs, the tender skin beneath his arms. Everywhere her mouth could reach.

Wild. Unrestrained. Feral.

She was claiming him with teeth and tongue and claws, leaving a map of bruises and bites across his torso like territory flags.

Phei surrendered completely.

Head thunked back against the mirror, eyes half-closed, breath ragged. His hands stayed tangled in her long black hair—not guiding, not controlling, just holding on as she ravaged him. Every bite drew a low groan from his throat; every scrape of her nails made his cock throb harder against the confines of his pants.

He let her feast.

Let her mark.

Let her take everything she’d been starving for.

Because Valentina wasn’t asking anymore.

She was taking.

And he was going to let her devour him until there wasn’t a single inch of him she hadn’t tasted.

Then after… he was going to fuck her into next week!