My Taboo Harem! - Chapter 564 - 564: Girl's Evening

The shower had been too hot and too long and Emily didn’t care.

She’d stood there until the water turned lukewarm, then cold, then sort of aggressively cold, and still she hadn’t moved because her brain was too busy replaying everything. Not just the physical stuff—though gods, yes, the physical stuff—but the way he’d looked at her.

The way his eyes had gone wet and glassy when she’d told him it wasn’t his fault.

The way his hands had shaken, just slightly, when she’d guided them exactly where she needed them.

The way he’d said I’m scared I love you and want you too much.

Like it cost him something to admit.

Like loving her was the most terrifying thing he’d ever done.

She was home now. In her bedroom. Had been for maybe ten minutes. Had gotten out of the shower and just… stood there, dripping on the bath mat, staring at the wall like an idiot until her teeth started chattering.

Then she’d grabbed the first thing her fingers touched—some thin nightgown thing, silk or satin or whatever, basically an illusion of clothing because it covered nothing properly and she could feel the air against every single inch of skin underneath—and stumbled to her bed.

Hadn’t bothered with underwear.

Why would she?

The memory of his thick cock pressed hot and heavy against her soaked panties was still singing through her veins like the world’s most addictive song. She wanted to keep feeling that raw, slippery closeness for as long as possible.

Hadn’t bothered with anything.

Just collapsed onto the mattress face-up and stared at the ceiling and tried very, very, very hard to process the fact that two hours ago she’d been grinding her soaked panties against Phei Ryujin Tiamat’s cock in the back seat of a car, her boss while he whispered filthy promises into her ear about making her come so many times she’d forget her own name.

“Not here,” She repeated in her voice what he’d said. “Not like this. Not in the back of a car in a parking lot for your first time.”

And she’d understood.

She’d hated it—hated the interruption, hated the way her body was still screaming for him, hated the empty ache between her thighs that nothing seemed to fill her virgin pussy—but she’d understood.

Because Phei didn’t do things halfway. Phei didn’t rush. When he finally took her, it would be perfect.

“It will be everything.”

She just had to survive until then.

Her hand drifted to her chest. Pressed flat against her chest just above between her boobs through the thin silk.

She could still feel his mouth there—the wet heat of his tongue circling her nipples, the gentle suction that had sent lightning straight to her core, the way he’d groaned against her skin like tasting her was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Her nipples were still sensitive. Still slightly swollen. Every shift of the nightgown’s fabric made them ache in the sweetest, most torturous way.

Gods… he is so cute and so good. Emily was grinning so wide her cheeks ached, both hands flying up to cover her flushed face as her legs kicked happily on the sheets like an overexcited teenager who’d just been told the cutest boy in school liked her back.

She was about to burst—literally vibrating with joy, heart doing cartwheels, the kind of giddy, uncontainable happiness that made her want to squeal into her pillow and never stop.

Couldn’t help it. The dreamy excitement just kept happening, kept spreading across her face until her cheeks hurt, kept pushing at the corners of her mouth like something trapped inside her was trying to escape through sheer joy.

She looked like a lovesick idiot and she didn’t even care. Let the ceiling judge her. Let the whole world judge her.

Emily Hartwell was floating three feet above her own bed on a cloud made of remembered friction, purple amethyst eyes, and the terrifying, wonderful knowledge that the most dangerous boy in Paradise was scared he loved her too much.

Because today—

Today she’d kissed him. Really kissed him. Not the careful, controlled thing they’d been dancing around for weeks, but a proper kiss enough she forgot about breathing and her whole body turned into a single nerve ending and every touch felt like dying and being reborn at the same time.

She’d felt his cock twitch against her stomach when she’d rocked forward. Felt him swell even harder in her hand. Felt the wet heat of his pre-cum soaking through fabric while she ground her dripping cunt along his length like a woman possessed.

And he’d let me.

He’d let her.

Her hand moved from her face again. Both palms pressing against her cheeks, feeling the heat there. Still flushed. Had been flushed since the airport, probably. Might never stop being flushed.

Was there a condition where you just blushed yourself to death from sexual frustration and overwhelming happiness? She asked herself.

Probably not. Probably that was just called “being Emily Hartwell, assitant to the most dangerous boy in Paradise, who is also—apparently—in love with me.”

I’m scared I love you and want you too much.

She let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sob, the kind of sound you make when you’re alone and don’t have to pretend to be normal.

He loved her.

Phei Ryujin Tiamat loves me.

The boy who’d given her a tissue when no one else stopped. The boy who’d saved her from the Legacies. The boy whose purple eyes went soft when he looked at her, whose hands turned gentle when they touched her, whose whole body had trembled with restraint because he wanted her first time to be perfect.

He loved her.

And she loved him back so much it felt like her ribs might crack from the pressure of containing it.

Her phone buzzed.

Emily fumbled for it, still grinning like a maniac, still not quite connected to her own body. The screen lit up with messages—Landon, Brian, two of the Simps who’d be helping her tomorrow.

She dealt with them quickly. Short messages. Confirmations.

The part of her brain that ran like Swiss clockwork kicked in automatically, handling schedules and coordination while the rest of her floated somewhere above her body, still drunk on the memory of his mouth on her breasts.

Landon was downstairs, actually. His family had come for dinner—the Hartwells and Hayes families did this sometimes, boring networking stuff—but Emily couldn’t. Couldn’t sit at a table and eat pasta and make small talk when her entire nervous system was still vibrating at a frequency usually reserved for hummingbirds and small earthquakes.

She has made her excuses. Not feeling well. Which wasn’t even a lie, really. She was feeling too much. Feeling everything at once.

Couldn’t possibly shove all of that down long enough to pass the salt and discuss stock portfolios.

Tomorrow was big. Phei had said he’ll handle Elena—convince her to free up her time, clear her schedule, do whatever needed doing. Emily didn’t know all the details of why Elena was part of it.

Didn’t need to.

She just knew that when Phei wanted something done, it got done. And she’d be right there beside him, making sure everything ran smooth.

His other women would be thrilled too.

She’d seen it in how they moved around him. Sierra’s careful devotion. Maddie’s chaotic adoration. The way they all orbited him like planets around a sun, drawn in by gravity they couldn’t resist and didn’t want to.

Emily was one of them now.

Not on the outside anymore. Not just the assistant, the organizer, the girl who watched from the margins. She was his. Had felt his hands on her ass, his mouth on her nipples, his cock pressed hot and throbbing against her dripping core while he whispered promises about everything he was going to do to her.

Let me take care of you a little, he’d said. Let me feel how wet you are for me.

And she’d shown him.

She’d rocked against him until she was soaking through her panties and his boxers both, until slick was running down her thighs and coating his shaft, until she was shaking and whimpering and so close to coming she could taste it—

But they’d stopped.

Because Phei wanted it to be perfect. Because even though every cell in her body screamed for more, he’d promised her somewhere safe, somewhere I can take my time with you, and she believed him.

She believed everything he said.

Emily sighed. Long and happy and slightly unhinged.

He was probably at the Montgomery residence right now. Meeting Sierra’s parents.

And knowing Phei—knowing the way he moved through Paradise like a force of nature, cutting through obstacles that should have been impossible—someone was about to lose someone.

Their composure, maybe. Their certainty that the world worked a certain way. Their conviction that they had any control over their daughter’s heart, when Sierra had already given it away to a boy with purple eyes and hands that could make a woman forget her own name.

But probably losing a wife.

Good luck to them.

Emily smiled at the ceiling one more time. Let her hand drift down, tracing the same path his fingers had taken earlier—over her chest, across her stomach, down to the hem of her nightgown where the silk stopped and her bare thighs began.

She was still aching.

Still wet.

Still empty in that desperate, throbbing way that only he could fix.

But she’d wait.

She was good at waiting.

And when he finally took her—when he finally slid inside her and made her his completely—it would be worth every second of this beautiful, torturous anticipation.

Her eyes closed.

Her smile didn’t fade.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, a quiet voice whispered: Soon.