Chapter 532: Daughter and The Mother Fucker

Phei’s eyes narrowed in the perfect black.

Made sure?

Made sure

how

? By feeding them exactly the right angles, the right sounds, the right captions to turn curiosity into obsession? By controlling the narrative the way she controlled everything else—quietly, ruthlessly, like air being let out of a room until breathing became impossible without thinking of him?

He didn’t ask.

Because part of him already knew the shape of the answer, and the rest of him wasn’t ready to hear it spoken aloud by the same woman who had once orchestrated entire social seasons at eighteen, the age she’d first started bending rooms full of adults to her will and called it Tuesday.

He knew the princesses watched. Knew Sierra and Maddie had shared far more than polite discretion allowed—clips, stills, breathless voice notes describing every vein, every thrust, every low growl he’d let slip when he forgot himself inside them.

He knew the Legacy girls probably first compared every promised fiancé on the first day his girls shared them—Marcus with his perfect jaw, Aiden with his trust fund, Derek with his pedigree—to footage of Phei’s hips snapping forward, and found them all wanting.

What he hadn’t fully grasped until now was

how deep

the architecture ran.

Between him and those Legacy heirs, it wasn’t even a contest anymore. The princesses would choose him every time—every minute, every heartbeat—because Elena had made sure the scale was already tipped before they ever met him in the flesh even beyond what Sierra and Maddie did just by sharing the content.

How?

He did not know!

"I know what you’re thinking," she said, voice slicing cleanly through his silence. "That it’s all pixels and fantasy. That videos and group-chat thirst aren’t enough to build anything real. That it’s shallow."

She turned her head just enough—cheek still pressed to his chest—so her words landed clearer against his skin.

"But to them it’s different.

The constant loop. The shared obsession. Every clip dissected like scripture. Every post-coital detail Sierra whispered about the way you held her throat just right, or how Maddie sobbed your name into the pillow after you’d already made her come three times—it layered. Brick by brick. Until

’watching you fuck’

stopped being voyeurism and started feeling like they were exactly the ones in the place of either Sierra or Maddie. Now they wonder how your hands would feel like on their skin."

She shrugged—small movement that dragged her bare breasts along his forearm in a slow, unintentional tease.

"Anyway. You wouldn’t get it."

He almost laughed.

He

did

get it.

Because he carried weapons most men didn’t even know existed.

The

Dominance Aura

—that invisible weight that settled over every room he entered and quietly reordered the pecking order until his name sat at the top like gravity.

The

Cool Aura

—the magnetic hum that pulled people in without them ever clocking why their eyes kept sliding back to him.

And

Daddy’s

—most dangerous of all against these princesses.

Daddy’s didn’t fabricate emotion. It only turned up the volume on what was already there on their need to please a male presence (the daddy issues)—accelerated

longing,

warmed the embers of

need,

made three weeks of natural attraction collapse into one fevered night.

Girls who carried daddy issues deeper than their family vaults suddenly found themselves aching for a man who looked at them like he could fix every wound they’d ever hidden and dominate them just at the same time.

And Phei had infinite space.

Infinite slots

actually for more beauties in my harem.

Infinite stamina.

So why

not

let them fall?

He was glad—genuinely glad—they wanted him. Because something

primal

and

possessive

that had woken up in him these past weeks:

the

absolute refusal

to let anyone else claim girls who already touched themselves to his memory

. Girls who whispered his name into silk pillows and measured every other man against seventeen looped seconds of him splitting someone else open.

If the feelings they have for me are real—then fine. And there is no way I am letting them get taken from me!

Elena, who he’d only properly met a handful of times, who he barely knew beyond garden sunlight and the wildfire rumours her friends carried, was now admitting she was no different.

He was living the

harem arc

for real now. The kind of story where the most beautiful, dangerous women fall one by one, and the protagonist spends half his time wondering whether the gods are

benevolent

or just bored.

Except Phei wasn’t reading anymore.

I am

in

it.

And I don’t hate the view.

He chuckled—quiet, private—into her hair.

His old dream of claiming both daughters

and

their mothers wasn’t some distant fantasy anymore. It was close enough to taste.

And the best part? It wasn’t spite. Wasn’t revenge. Wasn’t system points or EXP grinding.

It was love.

I’ll love them all—fiercely, possessively, eternally—

"I know it’s absurd," Elena murmured. "That we’re not close. That we’re here like this anyway."

Phei shrugged—shoulders rolling against her back. "There’s

nowhere

else I’d rather be but right here with you princess."

She burrowed deeper—face pressing harder into the crook of his throat, body melting against his like she’d finally found the only safe place in the world.

Then, flat as a weather report:

"I know you’d rather be buried in my mother’s pussy than grinding against her daughter’s ass crack."

Phei’s laugh barked out—startled, genuine—because what the hell else do you do when a woman maps you fucking her mother like she’s reading GPS?

"How do you even

know

about that?"

She didn’t shrug. She

smiled

—he felt the curve of it against his chest, felt the subtle shift in her breathing that said,

"I know because I always know, and the fact you’re still surprised is honestly adorable

."

"I’m sorry, though," she continued—softer, but the softness had teeth. "I know you’re

aching.

I know you’d probably rather be... I have feelings for you. But with whatever’s already burning between you and my mother, I’m just not ready for—"

Phei pressed one finger to her lips.

"Stop."

She froze.

"Elena." His voice dropped low—close enough that it vibrated through her spine and into her ribs. "I’m in no rush."

Silence stretched—thick, warm.

"I want to fuck you.

Obviously.

You’re naked in my arms, duh, it’s only nature and my cock’s been throbbing in your ass crack for half an hour, so yeah—the

hunger’s

there. But what matters more is building something real. Before sex. After sex. Doesn’t matter. Because once I’m inside you—once I become one with any woman Elena—

I don’t let go

. Ever. But the only thing that makes any of this

eternal

is if there’s heart behind the heat... not just

sex and marking

you as mine. And I’d choose building that over meaningless release any day."

He paused—let the words settle.

"Luckily I haven’t settled for the meaningless kind in a long time."

Elena stayed quiet—long enough that he wondered if he’d miscalculated.

Then she chuckled—low, knowing.

"You’re lucky I’m smart," she said. "Because that little speech only scratched the surface of what you probably were trying to mean."

He shrugged. "Yeah. Words have never been my strong suit."

She turned in his arms until they were nose to nose in the dark. He could see her eyes, but she couldn’t and he just closed his eyes so he could feel her breath the way she could only feel his presence.

She leaned in.

Pecked him—quick, soft, deliberate. A press of lips that said

I heard every word

without needing anything more.

"Then I hope you’ll agree to dates," she whispered. "And time. Real time.

Because I already have

feelings for you."

Another pause.

Her voice dropped to that razor-edged Elena frequency—sincere and surgical at once.

"And the only thing left is getting used to the fact that I’m dating someone who’s already

fucked

my—"

He flicked her forehead—light, warning.

"Ow!"

"Stop saying that. You’re making this really weird, right now."

"It

is

weird!"

"It’s weird enough without your running commentary."

She rubbed the spot—then did something that lit every nerve in Phei’s body at once.

She caught the offending hand.

Brought his finger to her lips.

Bit down—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to leave the perfect crescent of her teeth and the wet heat of her mouth wrapped around the digit.

Her eyes—burning somewhere in the dark—held his.

"Don’t flick me again,"

she murmured against his skin—sweet, dangerous, the voice of someone laying down rules and still deciding the penalty clause. "Unless you want to find out exactly what I do to people who touch me without permission."

She released him.

Smiled—he felt it curve against his collarbone as she nestled back into his chest. Arms looping around his waist. Forehead pressed to his sternum. Warm. Small. Cuddling like she hadn’t just threatened him with teeth and promise.

That was Elena.

Tender enough to break your heart.

Terrifying enough to make you beg for it.

"Dates,"

he said.

"Dates,"

she echoed.

"And time together."

"Lots of it."

"And you stop with the mother-daughter jokes."

"Absolutely not."

Her grin pressed into his skin. "I’m going to make them

so

specific you’ll want to combust."

He sighed—long,

theatrical.

She laughed soft and victoriously into his throat.

And in the daughter’s bed, on the other side of the wall from the mother who was probably still awake and throbbing with her own unspoken want—two people who barely knew each other made a promise.

Not because it made sense.

Because nothing in Paradise ever did.

And because Elena Ashford—the Virgin Succubus, the razor-sharp princess, the woman who at eighteen had already started orchestrating adults like pieces on a board and now bit fingers in the dark—had decided she wanted him.

And what Elena wanted...

...Elena

got

.

Phei wasn’t even close to understanding how dangerous that truly was.