Chapter 300: Goddess, The Dormant Succubus (r-18)

With a deep exhale, Phei knocked once—

sharp, confident

—then stepped inside before the woman behind the desk could even form the word "come."

The woman

froze

mid-signature.

Her face did exactly what every woman’s did the first time she truly saw him: mouth fell open, eyes widened to luminous

silver-grey

pools, breath visibly caught somewhere between lungs and throat.

No

sound.

Just three perfect seconds of stunned, wordless shock—long enough for the air to thicken into something holy, for her pupils to dilate until the irises were thin silver rings around black, for the pen in her hand to freeze mid-stroke, ink bleeding into the paper like a wound.

Then her Ashford Madam authority snapped back into place like divine armor locking into position—

spine straightening, shoulders squaring, lips curving into the polite, practiced smile that had ended careers and silenced boardrooms.

"Mr. Maxton," she said smoothly, voice cool and measured, velvet over steel. "I wasn’t expecting you quite so...

promptly

."

Phei returned the smile—

slow, easy, devastating,

the one that made goddesses forget their divinity for half a heartbeat.

Her control held. Her face betrayed nothing more.

But her body did.

The faintest tremor ran through her shoulders—

a ripple that made the midnight silk of her dress shift against her skin like liquid shadow

. Her throat worked on a swallow she couldn’t quite hide—pulse hammering visibly beneath the single luminous pearl at her throat.

Her fingers tightened around the pen until the knuckles blanched white—the only outward sign that the armor had cracks.

That first three-second fracture had been enough.

All the emotion she would ever let him see.

She rose from the chair with deliberate grace—every movement liquid, eternal, the long midnight silk dress

clinging

in places it pretended not to:

high, medium firm breasts

pressing against the fabric,

nipples

already tightening into

dark points

beneath the thin silk,

waist so narrow

it seemed impossible,

her round, small hypnotic hips flaring

with the slow, predatory elegance of a

goddess

deciding whether to bless or destroy.

She smoothed the front of the floor-touching dress—hands gliding over her own body in a motion that was both casual and devastating—and walked around the wide mahogany desk to greet him properly.

Halfway across the carpet her heel caught—on nothing, on air, on whatever invisible thread of gravity had suddenly decided to betray a being who should have been above such mortal clumsiness.

Phei didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.

He moved—

faster

than even he expected

, envelope flying from his hand in a white arc across the room like offerings to a deity. By the time it fluttered to the floor like dying moths, he already

had her.

One arm

hooked

around her

impossibly narrow waist

—fingers splaying wide across the silk,

feeling the

heat

of her skin beneath—the other cradling the small of her back, dipping her into a deep, cinematic arch. Her head tilted back

—dark hair spilling over his forearm like midnight silk

, body

curved

like a

bow

drawn taut by divine hands.

Their faces were inches apart. Breaths mingled—

hers shallow and unsteady, his deep and controlled

, the air between them crackling with something ancient and unstoppable.

Time did that stupid, movie thing:

slowed. Stretched

.

The amber desk lamp painted them in gold and shadow; the world narrowed to the heat of her body and breathe pressed against him, the rapid flutter of her pulse under his palm, the way her lips parted on a sound that wasn’t quite a word—

a soft, reverent

exhale that carried the weight of surrender.

He shifted—

barely an inch

—and his hand on her lower back

slid

lower.

Settled and...

Cupped the swell of her ass

.

By all the gods.

Perky. Medium-sized. Bubbly-soft yet firm

—the kind of ass that filled a hand perfectly and still begged to be gripped harder, to be

worshipped,

to be claimed. His palm

rested

there—

subtle at first, almost gentle

—but the contact was electric.

Current arced between them: her skin through silk, his heat through his fingers. Neither moved. Neither breathed for a heartbeat.

But who had the power to resist this? Phei surely didn’t and he gave a gentle... almost none-existent squeeze of her ass.

"Ahh~"

She exhaled—

a soft, involuntary moan

that vibrated against his throat, low and reverent, like a prayer offered to something divine.

That small moan alone encouraged him further... his other hand—the one cradling her neck—shifted. Thumb stroked once along the side of her throat—

slow and deliberate, tracing

the tendon that jumped under his touch like a second heartbeat.

"Mmmm~"

Her moan deepened. Real this time. Raw. A sound no mortal should make in the presence of another—primal, worshipful, utterly

undone.

The spell was shattered by that very beautiful sound too.

Her eyes snapped open—

awareness flooding back

: shock, mortification, a flash of something darker and hungrier.

Phei felt it too. The moment broke.

He straightened them both in one smooth motion—

bringing her upright

—but her long dress tangled around her ankles. She stumbled forward, momentum carrying her straight deeper into him.

*Impact.*

She collided with his chest in a soft, forceful thud—her medium

breasts crushing plush against his

pecs, hips slotting against his, thighs brushing his.

Phei’s arms wrapped protectively around her—

one banding her waist, the other cradling the back of her head so she wouldn’t smash her nose into his sternum.

But he was off balance too and the stumbled...

her first if they hit the wall.

He twisted their fall into a controlled stumble, turning so

his back would hit

the wall first.

Then—instinct—he lifted her.

Clean off the floor

.

On reflex, her arms locked around his neck—fingers threading into his hair, nails scraping his scalp. He spun her once—

slow, almost like a dance

—her head tucked against his chest, her body molded to his from

breast to hip to thigh.

He twisted them.

The air punched out of him on impact, but he absorbed it, kept her shielded.

The force she should have taken was his; she felt the jolt through his frame, felt his lungs seize for a second before he steadied them both.

Her breasts pressed flush against him—those perfect

teardrop-soft, full, nipples

already tight and dragging against his torn shirt with every ragged breath. Her

core

settled directly over the thick ridge of his cock—

still trapped in his pants but achingly hard,

pressing up into the

damp bridge of her ass

where the thong offered no real barrier.

Each subtle shift of weight ground her against him; she could feel

every vein, every throb

, the

heat

of him searing through fabric like divine fire directly into her ass bridge.

[Ding! You have encountered a Dormant Succubus! Awaken even a quarter of her insatiable locked desires and her nature.

Reward: 200% Chances of a High-Ranking Fairy Companion!]

Phei didn’t give a rat’s ass about the system notification. He’d already accepted days ago that neither he nor most of the Main Legacies were baseline human anymore; then—somewhere between the killing intent at the gate today and this impossible woman in his arms—that he wasn’t normal.

That Dravenna too wasn’t normal.

He had no proof.

But the system was doing that job for him.

All he had to do was focus on the task at hand.

What mattered was the woman in his arms.

She lifted her head slowly and turned her full body to him, still in his arms.

Their eyes met—hers wide, pupils blown to black pools rimmed with molten silver, lashes damp and trembling; his dark, steady, burning violet that seemed to glow from within like

twin amethysts

lit by inner flame.

And everything stopped.

Time fractured.

The room—the desk, the books, the distant hum of the city—fell away until there was only them: two divine beings remembering what it felt like to be mortal, to want, to

need

.

He spoke without thinking, voice low and reverent, cracked with awe.

"How..."

The word slipped from his lips like a prayer.

"How can something be so beautiful?"

Not a line. Not seduction.

Truth

.

Raw and unfiltered and completely involuntary.

She was the most

beautiful thing

he had ever seen. The most beautiful thing that existed. A

goddess

given mortal flesh and placed before him like a test he was

destined to fail gloriously

. Black hair cascading like liquid darkness, skin luminous porcelain that glowed under the amber lamp, body a masterpiece of lethal elegance—

—slim, sleek, every curve honed to perfection, breasts high and firm beneath midnight silk, waist so narrow his hands could span it, hips flaring with the slow grace of a predator deciding to devour or be devoured.

Her lips parted.

No words came out.

Only a soft, trembling

exhale

that carried the weight and hunger of centuries she didn’t know she held.

His hands tightened on her waist—

fingers digging into silk and skin, lifting her higher to

his height, her core pressing flush against the thick, aching ridge of his cock.

She yelped—

soft, startled, divine

—then wrapped herself around him completely on her own accord,

arms locking around his neck

, thighs clamping like velvet vices, her

slick heat

grinding

shamelessly against him through soaked lace and his pants.

One final stride and he reached her desk.

He pressed her down onto the polished wood—

her back stood flat and proud, legs still locked around his waist, dress rucked to her hips, thong visible to bare her dripping

cunt.