My Taboo Harem!

Chapter 526: The Little Succubus’s

Or was this just a regular Tuesday for her? Random boys materializing from the void, getting smuggled through service passages by starstruck maids who had quietly decided the household dress code included "optional boundaries"?

He didn’t know.

What he did know though was that Lina had milked every single opportunity like it was her last shift and the tip jar was bottomless.

Every echoing footstep became justification for a violent shove into the nearest wall followed by her launching herself at him like a heat-seeking missile with excellent aim.

Every shadow turned into an excuse for hugs that lasted three very suspicious beats longer than basic camouflage demanded.

Her breasts — soft, full, and so fucking plush — flattened against his ribs, nipples already stiff and pressing through the thin cotton of her uniform like they were trying to memorize the texture of his shirt.

Her thighs which he found so surprisingly plush and thick for someone built like a pocket-sized rebellion — slotted neatly between his legs.

Once she had actually hooked one leg around his calf while an old butler shuffled past again for the second time, grinding subtly against him with the focused intensity of a scientist testing the tensile strength of propriety.

And the excuses. Gods, the excuses were always the same too.

"For camouflage."

"Tactical positioning."

"You’re very large, sir. My frame is... compact. It’s efficient."

Phei had let her.

Arguing would’ve been louder than her entire performance, and honestly? The press of her soft little body wasn’t bad. At all.

Call it foreplay-by-proxy

— a warm-up act for whatever delicious chaos waited upstairs.

A small price to pay for not having to charm his way past every guard, every camera, and every nosy cousin with a wine glass and zero impulse control.

Also... she was kind of ridiculously hot in that wide-eyed, desperately horny way that made a man feel simultaneously powerful and mildly concerned for her cardiovascular health.

I respect the hustle. Even if his ribs were starting to bruise. (not really)

Elena’s room was on the fourth floor.

Which meant stairs.

A lot of stairs.

The elevator was a non-starter — too exposed, too monitored, too likely to ding open on a landing where someone important was standing with a martini and an inconvenient question about why a hot trespasser was riding it at eleven p.m.

So, they climbed. Three full staircases.

Four near-misses with night-shift maids who smelled like bleach and bad decisions.

One genuinely mortifying moment where Lina’s tactical response was to plaster herself full-frontal against Phei with the urgency of someone trying to defuse a bomb using only her chest and sheer willpower.

They finally reached the fourth-floor landing.

Lina paused, breathing hard, cheeks flushed the approximate color of a ripe tomato, her uniform deliciously askew in places she clearly hadn’t bothered to fix because why start now?

"This side of the fourth floor," she whispered, gesturing with a shaky hand, "is reserved for the girls only. This whole half—" she swept her arm across the landing like she was unveiling a crime scene, "—is as big as a mansion on its own. But it only has three rooms. Miss Elena’s. Her little sister’s. And one that belongs to someone else."

"Who?"

Lina shook her head so fast her little maid cap nearly flew off.

Phei filed that away under "Things That Will Probably Try to Kill Me Later."

"The left side," she continued — voice dropping to the reverent hush reserved for churches and sleeping apex predators — "is just as large. Entirely reserved for the Master and the Madam. Only the head maid and the butler were permitted inside. No other staff had ever set foot there."

The head maid. Which meant Consort.

Phei’s whole body tightened like someone had yanked a drawstring straight through his spine.

That meant the Madam was on the other side of this floor. Right now.

Probably in bed.

Probably still feeling the echo of his mouth, the heat of the car, the way her thighs had pressed together when he’d fucked her goodbye less than two hours ago.

Her husband asleep. Blissfully unaware that the same boy who had just had his cock buried deep in his wife’s pussy was now standing on their landing, deciding which door to knock on.

Mother on one side. Daughter on the other.

What a cheerfully fucked-up house.

Lina knocked. Once. Twice.

She opened the door after the third knock.

And gods, it was huge.

Elena’s "room" wasn’t a room. It was a full-blown apartment — a sprawling, self-contained fuck-you to architectural restraint hidden inside the fourth floor of an estate that was already too big to be socially acceptable.

They stepped into the living space and Phei stopped dead.

The ceiling was high enough to make you feel deliciously small — sculpted geometric planes, recessed lighting tracing clean white lines that gave the whole place an ambient, floating glow like you were standing inside a very expensive spaceship.

Polished marble floors veined with grey and gold, so reflective they doubled the room beneath your feet like a dark, luxurious mirror.

A massive cream-leather sectional curved around a low dark coffee table, accent pillows in charcoal and bronze arranged with the kind of deliberate carelessness that cost more than most people’s rent.

A sleek open kitchen in dark stone and brushed metal — the kind nobody actually cooked in but everyone pretended they might.

A geometric crystal chandelier scattered sharp modern fragments of light. Floor-to-ceiling windows on two full walls looked out over the moonlit gardens: silver hedges, winding fountain paths, reflecting pools glowing faint blue under strategic uplighting.

No city skyline.

Just the estate’s own curated, suffocating wilderness.

The rest of the mansion screamed old money — oak panels, oil paintings, the slow crushing weight of centuries.

Elena’s space screamed new money trying very hard to look like it didn’t care.

Phei’s eyes flicked to the windows.

His stomach dropped an inch.

Had anyone been standing there when he’d landed — when the void portal had cracked open in the service corridor below, frost and black ice and a boy stepping out of thin air — they would’ve had front-row seats to everything that had happened.

The gardens were directly below.

The angle was perfect. One insomniac at the glass and his entrance would’ve been viral by breakfast.

Lucky. Stupid lucky.

Lina hesitated near the double doors that led deeper into the apartment — the bedroom beyond visible as a dark, tempting sliver through the gap.

"Miss Elena?" she called softly.

Phei shook his head. Sharp. Once.

"Don’t disturb her... I’ll just wait."

Lina blinked. Then nodded — quick, obedient, the reflex of someone who had spent her life following orders and had just found a new master she was eager to impress.

"Thank you," he said quietly, voice genuine. "For everything tonight."

She flushed deeper than all the corridor presses combined — the red spreading from her cheeks down her neck to the rumpled collar of her uniform like spilled wine.

She bowed — low, almost comically formal, the kind of bow you’d give royalty rather than a trespasser who had spent the last twenty minutes using her as a very willing human shield — and backed out.

The door closed with the softest, most final click.

Phei crossed the living room in three long strides. He sat on the wide windowsill — back to the room, facing the moonlit gardens. Silver stripes of moonlight painted across his broad shoulders like prison bars made of starlight.

The estate sprawled below like a sleeping kingdom — hedges, fountains, the faint shimmer of security lights along the distant perimeter. Somewhere out there, Eira hovered at the boundary she couldn’t cross.

Somewhere deeper in the house, Consort was doing whatever ancient horrors did at midnight.

Somewhere on the other side of this floor, the Ashford Madam was lying in her bed with her thighs pressed together, a pill dissolving in her stomach, and the ghost of Phei’s cock still warm inside the swollen emptinesshe had left behind.

And here was Phei.

In her daughter’s bedroom.

Waiting.

He exhaled once. Slow.

The room smelled faintly of Elena — something expensive and floral, undercut with the sharp bite of gin and the ghost of cigarette smoke. A lived-in scent. A girl who could probably drink and smoked in her own apartment-like bedroom if she was into that, and nobody ever told her no.

A dangerous scent.

A clock ticked somewhere deeper in the apartment.

The gardens whispered outside.

And Phei — sitting on the windowsill of the Virgin Succubus’s bedroom like he belonged there, like he’d been personally invited to ruin everything — smiled slowly into the dark.

He’d trespassed into the lioness’s den.

Now he just had to wait for her to wake up and decide whether to eat him... or fuck him.

Either way, he was already hard.