My Taboo Harem!

Chapter 737: Terrorism & Public Service

The soft, warm weight of her pressed full-length against him while the generous curve of her breasts flattening softly against his chest, the smooth heat of her bare thighs brushing his legs through the thin slip, the scent of her skin and shampoo for what she’d showered earlier and something uniquely, intoxicatingly Roxanne flooding his senses until the Dragon Dominance roared approval.

Her intense passion, which he welcomed with his own, crashed through him like a tide breaking against stone. Resolve and raw, aching horniness and love for her man sharpened into something focused and possessive.

He had crossed seven hundred miles for this — for her — and every inch of him knew it.

"You came."

Muffled against his throat, her voice already husky with something that matched the fire now coiling low in his gut.

"I couldn’t miss it for the world."

"You’re supposed to be on the island."

"I am on the island."

"Phei."

He tilted her face up to his with two fingers beneath her chin, brushed his thumb across her lower lip with the unhurried certainty, exactly like a dragon who had decided that geography itself was an inconvenience he would no longer tolerate.

His amethyst eyes met hers, sovereign and dark and quietly burning.

Inside, the worry for her wellbeing he had been carrying since the morning sharpened into something focused and possessive — the need to remind himself, and her, that she was his, that he would always be there when she needed him, warm and alive and pressed against him in that barely-there slip that did nothing to hide the way her body responded to his presence.

"My love," he said, voice dropping half into something that wrapped around her like velvet and command at once.

"There is no distance in this world that can keep me from reaching you. None, sea or ocean, not even the seven hundred miles between this apartment and the island. They are inconveniences. They are negotiable. I close my eyes, I decide that I want to be where you are, and the world rearranges itself to permit it."

Roxanne’s breath caught — a soft, shaky inhale that made her breasts press more firmly against him. Her dark eyes lifted to look up at him, in his arms, and they widened further, pupils dilating with something that matched the heat now coiling low in his gut.

A faint flush climbed her throat and bloomed across her cheekbones like the first colour returning to a world that had been too long in shadow.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging just enough to send a spark straight down his spine.

"Phei~"

"You are mine, Roxanne. I am yours. Geography does not get a vote in that arrangement."

She made a small, wrecked sound that was not quite a word and pressed her forehead against his chest, but her hands slid up into his hair, fingers tightening with sudden, needy strength.

He felt her heartbeat quicken against the front of his shirt, felt the way her body melted and pressed closer at the same time — the soft give of her curves, the warmth radiating through the thin slip, the way her hips shifted just slightly against him as if her body already knew what her mind was still catching up to.

The slip dress rode higher on her thighs with the movement, and Phei’s hand slid down the elegant line of her back to settle possessively at the curve of her waist, thumb brushing bare skin where the fabric had shifted.

In the corner of his perception — invisible to Roxanne, perched on a windowsill that as far as Roxanne was concerned contained nothing but a small vase and a square of warm Paradise sunlight —

"Um, Phei?"

"Yes, Eira."

"That was magnificent."

"Thank you, Eira."

"The Oh, the unstoppable god, the geography that does not get a vote. The world rearranging itself. Truly. Stirring. I confess I was moved."

Phei’s mouth curved against Roxanne’s hair, even as his hands tightened possessively at the curve of her waist, feeling the soft give of her body through the thin slip, the way her warmth seeped into him like a drug he had no intention of quitting.

"You are being sarcastic."

"Oh? I am incandescent with sarcasm. I am, at this moment, channelling more sarcasm in this than I have channelled in three hundred years. I have questions, though, dear master."

"Such as."

"Such as: it’s nice to traverse seven hundred miles within an instant, isn’t it? Truly remarkable. A wonder of the Cosmic Dragon’s natural birthright. I do wonder, master, when exactly you intend to stop outsourcing these simple operations to me."

"Eira."

"— because, oh, the world rearranging itself just now? That was me. The geography that did not get a vote? It got a vote. It voted no. I overrode it. Me. My powers. The unstoppable god in question is currently, you, master — I say this with love — are at this exact moment leasing my power to be romantic."

"No one needs to know that."

"Nobody needs to know that, master, except me, who is doing the actual work, and now also you, who is, as we speak, about to take the bow for it."

"I’ll buy you something nice."

"You cannot buy a fairy nice things, master, I exist outside your ability to bribe me."

"I’ll think of you fondly during training."

"That is a lateral demotion."

All the while Roxanne remained oblivious to the entire exchange — her cheek still pressed against his sternum, her hands still gripping the back of his shirt with quiet desperation, her eyes still bright with the warm aftermath of his speech.

The cream slip dress had ridden higher on her thighs from the way she had thrown herself into his arms; the fabric clung to the generous curves of her breasts and the elegant dip of her waist, every small shift of her body sending fresh waves of heat through him.

Distance had been conquered, now came the sweeter part — claiming what he had crossed oceans of air to reach.

Roxanne, still folded against him like she never intended to unfold, lifted her face and looked up at him with an expression Phei had not, in two months of knowing her, seen before. Wonder. Awe. And beneath it, something hotter, more dangerous — the dawning realisation that the man holding her had just rewritten the rules of what was possible for love.

"Phei."

"Yes, my love."

"You just — come through space for me. That’s so otherworldly and romantic."

"I just came through space for you, love."

"At will."

"Very much at will."

"That’s —"

"Mm-hm."

"— that is deeply unfair of you."

He brushed a thumb along the line of her jaw, feeling the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath her skin, watching the way her pupils had dilated, the faint flush climbing her throat and blooming across the tops of her breasts where the slip dress dipped.

She was here. Warm. Pressed against him. And the look in her eyes said she was already rewriting her own understanding of what a man could be.

"How is it unfair?" he murmured.

"Because you have now given me a dopamine response so spectacular," she informed him with careful elegance — weaponising her own delight, her voice trembling between laughter and something far more intimate — "that no other man will ever be able to give a woman a comparable one.

"You have personally raised the bar across the entire species, my love. There are women out there right now whose husbands are about to underperform in ways those husbands cannot possibly anticipate, and you, Phei Ryujin Tiamat, are the direct cause."

He laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest into hers, one hand sliding lower to settle at the small of her back, fingers splaying possessively over the curve where slip met skin.

"That sounds like a public service."

"It is terrorism dressed as a public service," she whispered, but her eyes were shining, her body leaning closer, the thin fabric of her dress doing nothing to hide the way her nipples had tightened against his chest or the subtle, instinctive press of her hips.

In that moment, with Eira’s sarcastic countdown ticking somewhere in the back of his mind and Roxanne’s warmth flooding every sense, Phei felt the full, intoxicating weight of what he had done — and what he still intended to do with the minutes that remained.