My Taboo Harem! - Chapter 560 - 560: "Make Love to Me, Phei..."

The word hate landed clean but not hissed in an angry spat.

“I hate that you’re treating me like a victim. I’m not fragile, Phei.” She pressed more closer—”For once—just close your eyes, kiss me, make love to me like you’re supposed to. Without feeling sorry for me. Because that hurts me more than what the Legacies ever could.”

Her fingers curled into the collar of his shirt—small, determined fists. Not pleading but definitely claiming.

“The fact that you want me and I want you and we can’t have each other because you’re too busy protecting me from something that already happened and is already over—” She exhaled, shaky. “Phei…”

She pulled back just enough to look up.

What she found were his eyes—amethyst gone glassy, shimmering with something wet he was holding in through sheer stubbornness and failing badly. The purple caught the dim sodium glow of the parking-lot lights and fractured like broken glass.

He wasn’t blinking. He couldn’t. If he blinked, it would spill.

She knew.

She’d always known.

Phei blamed himself for that night. Blamed himself so completely it had become part of his breathing.

He’d been so consumed by rage—by the cold, violent thing that lived inside him when someone touched what was his—that he’d walked away after everything that happened with Victoria incident and left her and David behind to chase the Legacy boys down like prey.

And in the space he’d left empty, they got hurt. Emily got drugged. David got beaten until his face was unrecognizable. Because Phei couldn’t control the monster long enough to stay to protect them in a place he knew how much legcaies did there.

He blamed himself because the boy who could break princes couldn’t hold himself together long enough to protect the people who mattered most.

He was seventeen. Extraordinary, yes—dragon, system, impossible body, impossible power—but still seventeen.

Doing things no seventeen-year-old should ever have to do. Carrying the weight of protecting every woman who’d chosen him, every family member who’d chosen him back, every soul he’d sworn to keep safe.

And sometimes people looked at him—the purple eyes, the feral smiles, the quiet violence—and forgot that behind all of it was a boy.

A boy whose pieces were still being assembled after years that made him almost committee suicide while at the same time he tried to hold everyone else together.

Emily could see the places the weight had pressed hardest. The tension he never talked about that lived in his shoulders. The way his jaw locked when he thought no one was watching. The guilt he carried for a night he couldn’t un-do, a girl he couldn’t un-hurt, a moment he couldn’t take back.

She cupped his face.

Both hands with her small palms on his jaw. Thumbs brushing the sharp line of his cheekbones.

“Tell me you’re not thinking this was your fault.”

He shook his head but he didn’t say the words.

“Phei.”

Still nothing.

“Say it.”

He couldn’t.

Emily with fierce, possessive, no preamble, no permission, no careful distance… she kissed him like she was trying to reach inside his chest and pull the guilt out by its roots with her tongue. Like she could overwrite every I should’ve been there with the soft taste of her mouth, the gentle press of her body, the quiet, unshakable truth that she was here—alive, whole, his—and she was finished being treated like something that might shatter.

Her lips met his with a tenderness that still carried heat. Teeth brushed once—barely—then parted into something deeper, slower, hungrier in the sweetest way. She kissed him like she wanted to crawl inside his skin and stay there forever.

Like she could replace the memory of that awful night with the memory of this one: her fingers sliding gently into his hair, her chest rising and falling against his, her heartbeat steady and warm through the thin cotton of her floral dress.

Phei’s arms tightened around her with no conscious thought—first hesitant, then sure. His hands stopped being careful and started being honest. One slid up her back, fingers tracing the delicate line of her spine through the light fabric, feeling every small shiver that ran through her.

The other cupped the nape of her neck, thumb brushing the soft skin behind her ear, holding her close as if letting go would unravel everything.

He kissed her back like a man who had finally been given permission to breathe.

Emily didn’t let him stay cautious.

Her hands found his wrists—small fingers wrapping around them with quiet certainty—and guided them exactly where she wanted.

She drew his right palm down her side, over the gentle curve of her hip, until his fingers rested against the soft swell of her perky ass cheek beneath the floral dress.

The fabric was thin, warm from her skin; she pressed his hand there, encouraging him to feel her fully—her ass plush and yielding under his touch, the ass cheek filling his palm perfectly, soft outer layer giving just enough to let his fingers sink in before meeting the firm, toned muscle beneath.

She sighed into his mouth when he squeezed—gentle at first, then deeper—his thumb tracing slow, reverent circles over the curve, feeling her tremble and arch back into his grip.

“Touch me,” she whispered into the kiss, voice trembling with need and trust. “Feel me… here. Hold my ass like I’m yours… knead it… love it…”

Phei exhaled shakily against her lips. His fingers spread wider, cupping her ass cheek more fully—squeezing with reverence, lifting slightly so her flesh molded to his hand, the plush globe jiggling softly when he released and squeezed again.

He kneaded her slowly—deep, rolling pressure that made her moan quietly, her hips rocking back into his touch like she was begging him to claim every inch.

Her other hand guided his left one upward—sliding it beneath the hem of her dress, over the smooth, warm plane of her stomach, until his palm found the bare swell of her breast that had no bussines to be in a bra today.

Just warm, silken skin and a nipple already peaked and sensitive under his touch.

“Here,” she breathed, voice fracturing into a soft moan against his tongue. “Touch my breasts… hold them… cradle them… make love to them, Phei… please…”

Phei’s thumb brushed over the stiff peak—slow, reverent circles at first, feeling her nipple tighten further under his attention, darkening, throbbing softly in time with her quickening breath.

He cupped the full weight of her breast—squeezing tenderly, letting the soft globe fill his hand, her skin so silky it almost slipped from his grip before he tightened, thumb rolling her nipple gently between his fingers until she gasped sweetly into his mouth.

He moved to the other breast, repeating the slow worship—his palm cradling the heavy curve, fingers tracing the underside where her skin was impossibly soft, thumb circling her nipple until it stood stiff and aching, begging for his mouth.

Emily moaned softly—raw, intimate sounds vibrating into the kiss—her tongue sliding against his in slow, languid strokes. She broke away just long enough to whisper against his lips, voice trembling with want:

“Phei… touch me everywhere… hold my ass… cradle my breasts… make me feel how much you want me… love me… don’t hold back anymore…”

Her hands kept guiding—pressing his palm back to her ass so he could knead the soft, plush curves with both reverence and hunger—his fingers spreading her cheeks gently, tracing the cleft through the thin dress, feeling her shiver and press back harder.

Then lifting his other hand to her breast again, encouraging him to roll her nipple gently between his fingers, pinch softly, tug just enough to make her sigh his name like a prayer.

Every touch made her body melt against him—her hips rocking slowly, her thighs trembling, breath coming in soft, broken gasps against his mouth. Her breasts heaved into his hands—soft, warm, nipples throbbing under his thumbs—while her ass filled his palms perfectly, cheeks yielding and springing back with every squeeze.