Chapter 288: Secret Trump Card

Fauna turned to him with that same bubbly curiosity, utterly unbothered by the warm flush in her cheeks.

"So, um...should I take off my clothes?" She asked innocently, glancing down at herself. "Or maybe it’s easier if I just go all the way and get completely naked?"

The way she said it—so casual, so genuinely unaware of how her words sounded—made Mika wince.

A tight groan slipped through his throat before he could stop it.

Fauna was offering to be naked in front of him.

That alone said everything—how she still saw him as some sweet, harmless boy she’d once raised, not as a man who’d grown, not as the one who now towered over her, looked at her with eyes that saw her completely, wanted her completely.

And that...

That was what Mika wanted to change the most.

Still, not now.

As tempting as it was to say yes, to give in, to see her bare and vulnerable before him—it wasn’t the right moment.

So, with a calm tone masking the storm in his chest, he gently waved a hand.

"No need for that. Just go throw on something light. Loose-fitting pajamas or something comfortable. That’ll be perfect."

"Mmm, okay! I’ve got the perfect one!"

She skipped off toward the wardrobe—no, the walk-in wardrobe, which was practically a room on its own and Mika sighed, steadying his breath.

She was too much.

A few minutes later, Fauna stepped back out and Mika’s breath caught in his throat.

She wore a silky set of lavender-purple pajamas.

The short sleeves revealed most of her arms, smooth and soft under the warm candlelight. The pajama shorts clung gently to her hips and flared just above the knee, leaving her legs almost fully bare.

Slender, shapely, deceptively strong—she was lean and thick in all the right places, with a dancer’s figure and a goddess’s softness.

"Is this okay?" She asked, spinning slightly, clearly proud of her outfit. "Should I change it to anything else?"

"No. It’s perfect."

"Yay!"

She wasted no time skipping over to the massage table and eagerly plopping down onto it, face-down, arms hugging the sides.

"I’m so excited! I’m so excited!" She sang softly, kicking her legs a little in glee. "I’m gonna get a massage~!"

Mika placed his hands gently on the backs of her calves, steadying her.

"A massage is supposed to be peaceful and calm." He said, guiding her legs down, pressing her thighs and ankles flat. "You need to stop wiggling."

"Fiiiine." She said dramatically, but obeyed, settling into a more relaxed pose, her eyes peeking up to try and catch his expression.

"Since I’m already down here..." Mika murmured, sliding his hands down to her feet. "I’ll start here."

He placed his thumbs at the base of her feet and pressed.

Fauna jerked instantly, yelping into the pillow.

"That tickles! Ahh—it tickles!"

Mika didn’t relent. "You wanted a massage. You’ll have to bear it."

"I-I’ll try!" She whimpered, kicking once, then forcing her legs to stay still. "Just—just go slow! It feels so good but it tickles like crazy!"

Mika then continue to massage her feet, which were almost too delicate for someone who had spent years in service and healing.

He couldn’t help noticing the way her skin stayed unmarked, unblemished, as if the world itself refused to mar her.

He took his time, patient, thorough. When he moved upward, the pressure shifted, broad palms sliding over the slender lines of her calves.

The muscles yielded beneath his hands, tension dissolving with every slow, steady push. Her breathing deepened, slowing in rhythm with the motion.

"Mika..." She murmured dreamily. "You’re...really good at this. "Seriously...how are you this good? It feels like heaven."

Mika’s hands paused on the backs of her knees, thumbs pressing gently.

"Years of forced labor." He said dryly. "Yelena and the others—they’d drag me off and make me massage them for hours. I hated it at first, but...I got good. Really good. Even read a few books on technique when I got curious."

Fauna let out a soft laugh, eyes still closed.

"I can tell. This is so much better than the ones you gave years ago. Your hands are stronger now as well...much bigger. I can feel you envelop every part you touch. It’s like...pure comfort."

He didn’t answer at first, his hands continuing their steady path upward. The warmth of her skin spread beneath his fingers; the tension that had once been coiled in her frame seemed to melt away with each touch.

By the time he reached her knees, her whole body had gone loose and trusting.

"Feels...so good." She whispered. "Like the weight of the whole day is being pulled right out of me."

"That’s the idea." He murmured, leaning slightly closer so his voice came out low, steady, a quiet hum beside her ear. "Just breathe. Don’t think about anything else right now."

The sound of his voice mingled with the faint crackle of candle wicks and the whisper of air through the curtains. It made the room feel cocooned, sealed off from the world beyond.

When he reached the back of her thighs, his touch became slower, broader, drawing long arcs with the heel of his palm.

He could feel every shift in her muscles, every tiny tremor as her body adjusted to the rhythm. Her hair, loose and golden, had spilled to one side, catching the candlelight.

"You should open a massage parlor!" Fauna giggled softly. "You’d make a fortune. Women would line up for miles."

Mika’s hands paused for a fraction of a second before continuing.

"Only if it’s women-only." He said lightly. "I’d rather not spend my days rubbing hairy old men."

Fauna laughed, the sound warm and genuine.

"Fair enough. But if it was women-only, the girls would never let anyone else in. They’d hog you all to themselves."

Mika’s fingers dug a little deeper into her thigh, making her sigh.

"You’re not wrong." He murmured.

He then moved higher, hands sliding under the hem of her shorts, working the tight muscles where thigh met ass. Fauna’s breath hitched, but she didn’t protest, just melted further into the table.

Then he shifted to her back, pushing the silky top up slightly to knead her shoulders, her spine, the tense knots along where her wings were.

"For now..." Mika said quietly. "...there’s no parlor. I’m exclusive. And right now? You’re my only client."

Fauna’s eyes fluttered open, soft and warm.

"Lucky me." She whispered.

She lay there on the massage table, eyes closed, a soft, contented smile on her lips, humming faintly as Mika’s hands worked their magic along her shoulders and upper back. Her body was relaxed, pliant, trusting—every inch the picture of a mother enjoying a rare moment of pampering from her son.

But Mika knew the truth.

No matter how deeply he pressed, how sensually he kneaded the tension from her muscles, nothing changed.

Even if he stripped her bare right now, spread her legs wide, and massaged the most intimate parts of her—her inner thighs, the slick folds of her pussy, the sensitive ring of her ass—her body wouldn’t react.

Not the way a woman’s should.

It wasn’t just in her mind that she saw him as her little boy.

Her body itself was immune to him.

No flush of arousal.

No involuntary clench.

No shiver of forbidden pleasure.

Just warmth, comfort, and maternal affection.

That was what he wanted to shatter.

So, he stopped massaging abruptly and decided to use his Trump Card.

Fauna stirred slightly, murmuring in sleepy confusion.

"Mika? Taking a break already?"

He didn’t answer.

Instead, Mika whispered something low under his breath—

[Lightning Palm: Naughty Massage Edition]

—and instantly he could feel some changes going through his hands, as if electricity was coursing through them even though they looked the same.

He pressed two fingers together.

Bzzz!

A thin thread of electricity arced between his fingertips. Barely visible, barely there.

But real. Crackling, pure. Alive.

He brought those fingers to his own neck, just a light touch to see it’s effects.

The reaction was immediate.

Zzzz!

A jolt shot straight down his spine, goosebumps exploding across his skin. His breath caught, cock twitching hard in his pants as raw, electric pleasure pulsed through him.

He jerked his hand away, exhaling shakily.

It worked.

A slow smile spread across his face.

This would change everything.

He looked down at his hands, then at Fauna’s relaxed, trusting form—legs slightly parted, silk shorts riding high, the soft curve of her ass just visible beneath the fabric.

His fingers crackled faintly with restrained energy.

Time to begin.