My Taboo Harem!

Sienna lay in his arms. No. That was too ordinary.

Too small and disgustingly simple for what had just happened.

Sienna Ryujin Tiamat, the reincarnated Nether Goddess, the Ice Robot, the girl who treated affection like a security breach, was lying naked in Phei’s bed, spooned into him so closely there was no room left for dignity, distance, or any of her usual weapons.

Her back rested against the solid warmth of his chest. His arm circled her waist with quiet possession, Phei’s chin hovered near her hair, and every so often his fingers moved in slow, absent tenderness along her cheek—brushing a stray strand aside, tracing the clean line of her jaw as though he still could not fully believe she was there.

Sienna would have informed him, very calmly, that repeated contact with her face served no recognized purpose and could not be classified as treatment for post-intimacy fatigue.

Yet each time his fingers slid over her cheek, something warm and treacherous stirred within her.

A faint sound escaped her lips. Small. Soft. Utterly humiliating.

Phei’s hand paused when the sound became a true unguarded moan. Sienna’s eyes opened by a fraction.

"Do not comment," she said.

His voice brushed her ear, low and amused. "I did not."

"You were thinking loudly."

"That is an impressive accusation."

"You breathe differently when you are proud of yourself."

"I have a great deal to be proud of. You are in my bed, Sienna. No man has ever held that privilege... and none ever will."

She closed her eyes again. Looking at him would have required strength, and strength had become a scarce resource somewhere around the third time he had undone her composure and the fifth time he’d made her squirt her body had chosen betrayal as its preferred pastime.

’Horrible dragon. Beautiful, monstrous, shameless Dragon.’

His fingers resumed their slow path along her cheek. Sienna’s lips parted once more. Another soft sound escaped before she could stop it. This time she hated herself for it before he could take any pleasure in the victory.

But it was not only his touch that undid her.

His touch alone was already dangerous as the simplest brush of his fingers felt far too good, as though her skin had been rewritten to recognize him, as though every nerve had joined a private rebellion against her authority. His palm at her waist made her want to curl closer. His breath near her neck softened her thoughts.

His thumb at her jaw made her feel open in a way she had never consented to become.

And that was not the worst of it.

The worst was where their bodies remained joined in the aftermath.

They had not separated cleanly. Phei’s body stayed hot and heavy behind her, still quietly alive with hunger despite everything they had shared. He was no longer inside her—thank the last surviving fragments of her dignity—but he remained close enough that every small shift of his hips sent a wicked, intimate shock through her lower body.

The thick, heavy length of his thing (like she had called it) rested between the soft, firm cheeks of her ass, nestled deep within the warm cleft as though it belonged there. The residual essence of their earlier joining—her own honey mingled with the faint traces of her virgin essence and his release—made the hot, veined shaft glide with the slightest movement. The swollen head brushed teasingly against her still-sensitive entrance with every breath he took. It remained thick and half-hard, the heat of it radiating against her most private skin in a way that felt both obscene and strangely tender.

Every tiny pulse of his cock sent a slow throb through her, reminding her exactly how completely he had stretched and filled her only moments before.

Sienna’s face burned but she refused to name the exact arrangement.

Some things did not deserve language but silence, denial, and perhaps a private burial.

Unfortunately, her body held no respect for her intellectual position.

Every time Phei moved even slightly, the heavy, hot weight of his cock pressed more firmly into the soft valley between her cheeks, the thick shaft settling deeper with a slow, intimate slide that made her sex clench involuntarily around nothing.

The lingering wetness made everything glide—hot skin against sensitive skin, the swollen head occasionally catching against her still-puffy entrance in a way that sent shameful sparks of pleasure through her exhausted body.

Her breath hitched before she could prevent it when Phei teasingly thrusted and blushed past her pussy entrance to her clit making her thighs tensed and curl her fingers weakly against the sheet.

And every time, some traitorous part of her followed. Only a little. Barely. Subconscious. A repeated mistake.

Science would have called it a pattern, Sienna chose not to invite science into the bedroom.

Phei had undone her again and again. He had poured his essence into her, held her through every tremor, kissed her when she shook, whispered things she could no longer properly remember because at some point language itself had become decorative. He had taken her first time, and somehow—horribly very hard strokes to make her lose her mind at how good sex really felt like, then tenderly and impossibly—had made it feel less like loss and more like being claimed by the one person she had always been waiting to allow close enough.

Even now, in this quiet aftermath, the press of his cock between her ass cheeks felt like a secret claim—thick, hot, and unapologetically male, resting exactly where he had made her most vulnerable. The way it nestled so perfectly in her cleft, the slow pulse of it against her sensitive skin, the way the head occasionally nudged her entrance with every small shift... it was filthy and tender at once, and her shy, overwhelmed body kept reacting with soft, involuntary clenches and the tiniest rolls of her hips that she despised herself for.

And yet he was still not tired. That, frankly, was offensive.

She was exhausted. Her body felt melted into the sheets. Her soul had drunk from him until even the hidden depths of her seemed to glow with a terrible, quiet fullness. Her limbs were heavy. Her thoughts moved slowly. Her breath still came unevenly whenever his hand moved or his body shifted.

But Phei? Phei lay behind her warm, steady, alert, and still very much capable of causing trouble.

A Master Stage boy on a ridiculous Master Stage was not tired at all after everything.

Sienna’s eyes narrowed faintly. ’So monstrous like his thing.’

The thought had barely formed before the real monster behind her moved by accident.

Heat brushed her again—the thick, heavy cock shifting deeper into the soft cleft of her ass, the veined shaft pressing sinfully against her sensitive skin while the head nudged teasingly at her still-wet entrance.

Sienna went rigid.

Her entire face flamed with mortification.

Phei stilled at once, the teasing ease leaving his face as he glanced down at the woman tucked against him. "Sienna?"

Her fingers tightened weakly in the fabric at his side.

She refused to lift her face, choosing instead to hide against his chest as though the darkness there had suddenly become fascinating: "I hate you."

Phei’s brows rose and a slow smile returned as he lowered his head until his lips hovered beside her ear, close enough for his breath to disturb a few strands of black hair. "That sounded unconvincing."

"It was sincere." Sienna answered immediately, though the faint warmth creeping across the tips of her ears committed treason on her behalf.

His arm tightened around her waist when she shifted, drawing her securely against him. "You are pressed closer to me."

Sienna went rigid for half a heartbeat. "I am not."

"You are." Phei glanced pointedly at the complete absence of space between them, then back toward her hidden face.

"I am tired." Her voice became colder, adopting the grave dignity of a Goddess presenting an entirely reasonable explanation before the heavens. "My body lacks discipline."

Phei bit back a laugh, his thumb idly brushing along her side. "That is one explanation."

Sienna finally lifted her head enough to look at him. Her violet eyes narrowed, though exhaustion had robbed the glare of most of its usual ability to threaten civilizations:

"I will injure you when I recover."

"There she is." Phei’s smile widened with unmistakable satisfaction. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss near her temple before settling her against him again. "I look forward to your return to violence."

She wanted to glare at him.

She truly did.

Unfortunately, glaring properly required lifting her head again, and his chest was warm, his arm around her was annoyingly comfortable, and her traitorous body had apparently decided that vengeance could wait until after adequate rest.

But the problem with glaring while spooned naked against someone who had just made love to you several times and was currently caressing your face like you were the most precious disaster in existence was that it lacked authority.

A tragic structural failure.

Phei was saying something soft...something maybe about the way her eyes had changed. Or asking if she was hurt. She could hear the warmth in his voice, the care beneath the teasing, the worry he was trying to hide because apparently even after all that, the idiot still feared he might have done something wrong.

But Sienna could not quite hold onto the words.