My Taboo Harem!

Chapter 525: Dragon and the Skillful Maid

Her body molded against his perfectly despite the size difference — warm, soft, and dangerously addictive.

The "hug" was tighter than strictly necessary for camouflage. Her thighs brushed his with every shallow breath she took.

One of her hands had somehow found its way to the small of his back, fingers curling into his shirt again, clinging like she never wanted to let go. Her heartbeat thundered wildly against his chest, and he could smell the faint, sweet lavender of her hair mixed with the night jasmine blooming around them.

Phei’s voice dropped low and amused, his lips brushing the top of her head as he spoke. "You know I could just charm them into helping us, right?"

"Too risky," she breathed, voice muffled against his chest. "What if they scream anyway? Better safe. And... quiet."

The two maids passed within ten feet, laughing about something scandalous involving the stable boy that had both maid and the boy fired by the Headmaid.

That is Consort, right? The Headmaid.

Lina didn’t release him until their voices had completely faded — and even then, her arms loosened slowly, reluctantly, her fingers trailing down his sides before finally falling away.

When she stepped back, her face was flushed darker than before, lips parted on unsteady little breaths.

"You’re very... warm," she muttered, refusing to meet his eyes while one hand absently smoothed down her now-rumpled uniform.

"Is that a translation of you’re using every excuse possible press against me and feel my every inch? Don’t worry, you’re not bad yourself." he said and she blushed.

They pressed onward.

The garden eventually gave way to a side entrance near the kitchens. Risk number three came fast: Elena’s younger cousin — a sharp-eyed sixteen-year-old boy — strolled out of a side door with a glass of wine, phone glowing in his hand.

Lina reacted instantly. She shoved Phei into the deepest shadow beside a climbing rose trellis, then threw herself against him again — full-body hug, arms locked tight around his waist, cheek pressed firmly to his sternum.

"Pretend we’re statues," she whispered frantically. "Or lovers?

No. Statues are safer."

Phei’s arms came around her on pure instinct this time— steadying her, keeping the nervous little maid from shaking apart. One hand settled at the small of her back, the other cradling the nape of her neck, his thumb brushing slow, absent circles over the soft, sensitive skin there.

She shivered once — definitely not from the cold — and melted a fraction closer, her generous curves fitting against him like they’d been custom-made for exactly this.

The cousin walked right past them, humming to himself, never once glancing their way.

Lina stayed glued to him long after the boy disappeared. Her breathing eventually slowed, but her hold never loosened. The rose thorns pricked faintly at their clothes, but neither of them moved.

"...He’s gone," Phei murmured eventually, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

She didn’t move. "Just... one more second.For safety."

Her voice was small. Breathless. The kind of voice that made it crystal clear "safety" was only half the reason and allowing herself this once in a lifetime opportunity... the other reason.

Her fingers flexed against his back again, as if she was trying to memorize the feel of him.

They finally slipped through the service door and into the mansion proper. The inside corridors were even more treacherous — polished marble floors that echoed like traitors, servants drifting like ghosts, distant voices floating from the main halls.

Every dark corner became a brand-new opportunity.

Every sudden push into a wall became another "hiding hug" — each one lingering longer than the last, each one tighter, each one leaving Lina more deliciously flushed and Phei more quietly, dangerously amused.

By the time they reached the grand staircase leading toward the family wing, Lina’s uniform was charmingly rumpled, her breathing was unsteady, and her cheeks had taken on a permanent, adorable pink glow. She hadn’t let go of his hand since the last alcove.

Phei leaned down in yet another shadowed corner — her arms still looped around his waist out of pure habit now — and whispered against her ear, lips close enough to graze the sensitive shell.

"You know," he murmured, voice low and teasing, "for someone who’s supposed to be hiding me, you’re doing an awful lot of pressing."

Lina looked up at him, eyes wide, starstruck, and just a tiny bit defiant — sparkling beautifully in the dim light like she was seeing something magical.

"It’s tactical," she whispered back, chin lifting even as her voice trembled. "You’re very large, sir. My frame is... compact. It’s efficient."

Phei’s grin spread slow and wicked, eyes darkening as he drank in her flushed, fuckable little face.

"Efficient. Sure." Hopefully this isn’t the last time I am meeting you.

She swallowed hard — visibly — her delicate throat working.

Then she tugged him forward again, fingers now intertwined with his, small but surprisingly determined, leading him toward the final stretch of corridor that would take them straight to Elena’s room.

The Ashford Estate loomed around them — ancient, watchful, and impossibly grand.

But for one tiny, starstruck, dangerously huggable maid and the dragon she was bravely smuggling through its veins, every shadow had become the perfect excuse.

Every close call had become another warm, lingering embrace.

And the night... was only just getting started.

And Phei had never felt so used. Not in the angry, violated, someone-please-call-the-authorities way. More like the universe had looked at his calendar, circled tonight in red ink, and scribbled "Exploit the Dragon: Free Grope Night" in the margin.

This one... he liked it and he’d never felt so fucking fun sneaking in with someone. She was fun in her shy way and shamelessness that had valid reasons to back up her shamelessness.

And Lina—sweet, trembling, lavender-scented Lina—had shown up with bells on, RSVP’d with glitter, and brought her own measuring tape to calculate exactly how many square inches of contact she could extract before someone noticed.

He still couldn’t decide if he was offended or impressed.

The woman had gone from shrieking at the sight of him stepping out of a tear in reality to treating every dark corridor and narrow stairwell like her personal VIP lounge for full-body contact.

Were the women in this house just immune to stranger danger who just came from a portal and didn’t questions nothing at all?

Or did saying "Elena" function as some kind of universal skeleton key that unlocked not only doors but also personal space?