My Taboo Harem! - Chapter 209 - 209: "Undress Me, With Your Teeth!" (r-18)
Phei let his eyes fall shut, head resting back against the cool mirror, surrendering completely to the storm that was Valentina.
She felt the shift immediately—the way his body relaxed under her teeth and claws—and it unleashed something even wilder in her.
A guttural growl vibrated against his skin as she attacked him again, more frantic, more possessive. Her mouth was everywhere: sucking bruises into the thick muscle of his shoulder, dragging her tongue down the groove between his pecs, biting the tender skin along his ribs hard enough to make him groan.
Nails raked down his sides, over the flare of his lats, scraping red lines that burned deliciously.
She dropped lower, knees grinding deeper into the gym floor, lips and teeth tracing every emerging line of his stomach. She bit the soft skin just above his waistband again repeating the same pattern, then soothed it with a slow, filthy lick. Her hands gripped his hips like iron, holding him pinned, refusing to let him move an inch while she marked him from collarbone to V-cut.
Phei’s mind spun with heat and restraint.
He wanted to take over—wanted to spin her around, bend her over the bench or this very mirror, and fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight for a week.
But in the past two weeks, buried night after night in Sierra, Maddie, and Melissa, he’d learned something crucial: The moment a woman gets this feral, this lost in raw need, the smartest thing—the hottest thing—is to let her devour you first.
Let her take until she was shaking and breathless and satisfied.
Only then, when she thought she’d had her fill, did you flip the script and ruin her completely.
Valentina was wilder than any of them had ever been.
So, he stayed still. Let her bite. Let her mark. Let her worship and punish him all at once.
His hands finally moved—not to stop her, but to trace her.
Slowly, reverently, he slid his palms over her sweat-slicked shoulders, down the sculpted lines of her arms. He felt the hard, feminine muscle she’d spent years forging—delts that capped perfectly, triceps that flexed under his fingers—yet everywhere there was that intoxicating softness women kept no matter how strong they got.
The give of her skin. The plush curve where muscle met femininity.
He traced her back, thumbs brushing the long sweep of her lats, feeling them flare under the thin grey fabric of her outfit. Down to her tiny waist, then out over hips that could crush a man if she wanted.
She was power wrapped in silk.
Lethal and soft in all the right places.
And the mission… the mission had flagged this as HARD for good reason.
Her body wasn’t just trained—it was elite. Stamina for hours. Strength that could match him move for move and leave him gasping while she still goes on. Tiring her out wouldn’t be the casual marathon he pulled in threesomes with his girls.
It would be a war.
Good thing my Dragon Rod comes with endless stamina too.
She could ride him, claw him, drain him for hours—and he’d still be hard, still be ready when she finally begged for mercy. Still feel every fell of her pussy wet and tight around him… and that pussy was going to be so tight, trust me!
Valentina pulled back suddenly, rising to her feet in one fluid, predatory motion.
Her chest heaved, lips swollen and red from biting him, eyes black with lust. She stared down at the obscene bulge straining his sweatpants—that thick, heavy outline that had been haunting her dreams for two weeks—and licked her lips like a woman staring at her last meal.
“Let me see it.”
Her voice came out wrecked. Hoarse. Barely recognizable as the professional trainer who corrected form and counted reps.
“Please.” The word seemed to cost her something. “Let me see it. Let me have it. I’ve been—” She swallowed hard, hands trembling at her sides. “—I’ve been going crazy. Every night. Thinking about—”
She couldn’t even finish.
Phei chuckled.
Low. Dark. The sound rumbling through the empty gym like distant thunder.
Even this wild—even with two weeks of desperation clawing at her sanity—she was asking permission. Waiting for him to say yes. Some part of her, buried deep beneath the feral need, still recognized who was in control here.
Good girl.
“You want to see it?” he asked, voice soft as velvet and twice as dangerous.
“Yes.” No hesitation. “Gods, yes.”
“Then undress me… honey.”
Her hands shot toward his waistband—
“With your teeth.”
She froze.
Looked up at him, eyes wide, breath catching.
“Past my waist and thighs,” Phei continued, that devastating smile curling at his lips. “Nice and slow. And Valentina?”
He leaned down, lips brushing her ear, voice dropping to a whisper.
“I’m not wearing anything underneath.”
She giggled.
The sound was unexpected—bright and genuine amidst all the heat, cutting through the tension for just a moment. It transformed her face, made her look younger, almost playful despite the situation.
“I know,” she said, grinning up at him. “You never do in the gym. I’ve noticed every single time you walk into this gym. The way it moves and jumps when you’re on the treadmill. The outline during squats.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “I’ve memorized every inch through those sweatpants. Now I finally get to see if my imagination did it justice.”
“It didn’t.”
“Cocky.”
“Accurate.”
She laughed again—breathier this time, needier—and sank back to her knees.
Her teeth found the waistband of his sweatpants.
Bit down.
Valentina’s teeth clamped down on the soft waistband of Phei’s sweatpants, the fabric radiating raw heat against her lips. Midnight gym lights buzzed overhead, casting stark shadows across the empty mats, the only sounds her desperate, ragged breathing and the low hum of the AC. S
he tugged downward—slow, filthy, deliberate—savoring every inch like she was unveiling a god. The band dragged past the V of his hips, over the hard swell of his ass, and then—
His cock sprang free.
It slapped heavy and hot against her cheek first—thick, burning skin smacking her face with its weight, leaving a slick trail of pre-come across her flushed skin. Valentina froze. Her brain blue-screened. Every thought evaporated.
Holy. Fucking. God.
It was monstrous. Not just big—fucking ruinous.
Easily eleven inches of wrist-thick meat, so heavy it hung with real gravity even rock-hard, curving slightly upward in arrogant demand. Veins bulged like thick ropes under taut, flushed skin—one fat ridge running the full underside, pulsing visibly with his heartbeat; two more twisting up the sides like cables ready to snap.
The flared crown was angry dark purple, glossy and bloated, a fat, constant bead of pre-come oozing from the slit in a slow, obscene drip that stretched and broke, splattering onto her parted lips.
It throbbed—actually jerked in the air, bobbing like it was alive and starving for her mouth.
