Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

"You'll say it," he murmured, his voice dipping into that lazy, velvet tone that made her skin feel warmer. "And when you do… that's when we'll have our fun."

The word "fun" dripped with promise, and Pride—damn her—felt her pulse quicken.

She didn't give him the satisfaction of saying it just yet.

But she didn't stop his hand when it dipped lower, either.

Her hips shifted—not much, but enough to let him know she wasn't resisting.

Lux's fingers trailed deliberately over the soft, bare skin just above her thigh, the warmth of his palm sinking into her like heat from the fire. Her breath came slower now, deeper.

Then he moved.

Not rushed. Not greedy. Lux Vaelthorn never rushed. He dropped his pants completely. Her gaze—oh, she didn't even try to hide it—dropped the moment the fabric parted.

And there he was.

Thick. Hard. The kind of arousal that spoke less of desperation and more of intent—heat pulsing under skin.

She could see it clearly now.

His cock stood proud, flushed darker at the tip, a faint bead of precome catching the firelight like molten glass.

Sira's throat tightened just slightly, but she didn't look away. Pride didn't look away. Her eyes locked to him like she was appraising a weapon—a dangerous, exquisite one she suddenly very much wanted to use.

Lux smirked at the way she lingered. "Something catch your eye?"

Her mouth curved, voice low and velvet-smooth. "Mmh… maybe."

"Be mine," he said again, leaning forward so his shadow swallowed her whole. "Say it."

The word curled into her ear like smoke, and for a split second, she debated drawing this out, keeping the game alive just to watch him burn for it. But there was something in his eyes now—steady, unshakable—that made her realize he wouldn't be the one breaking.

Her lips parted. "Yours."

It came out steady. Not breathless, not uncertain. But there was a weight to it, a subtle tremor in the undercurrent, because Pride didn't belong—and yet here she was, saying exactly that.

The smirk that slid over his mouth in response was slow, sharp, and laced with something almost predatory. "Good."

Then he moved in, closing the distance between them until his bare chest brushed her breasts. His cock pressed against her stomach, heavy and hot, and she felt the faint twitch of it against her skin.

"Now," he murmured, "let's have our fun."

His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers curling into her hair, tilting her head just enough for his mouth to find hers. The kiss wasn't gentle—it was claiming, deep and molten, his tongue sliding against hers with a lazy dominance that left no doubt who was in control. She made a sound into his mouth, low and soft, and he swallowed it whole.

When he pulled back, it was only far enough to let his lips drag along her jaw, down to her throat. The first swipe of his tongue over her pulse point made her spine curve instinctively, baring her neck for him.

"You taste like trouble," he murmured against her skin, teeth grazing just enough to make her breath hitch. "I love it."

She laughed softly—half Pride's defiance, half Lust's enjoyment. "Takes one to know one."

His answer was a low hum before his mouth opened over her throat, sucking just enough to make the heat in her belly coil tighter.

Then his hand moved—down over her ribs, her stomach, until his palm settled between her thighs.

She gasped, hips twitching under his touch.

"Sensitive," he said with a quiet grin, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles that made her shiver. "I like that."

Sira's hand slid down his stomach, nails grazing the hard planes of muscle before wrapping around him—bare skin to bare skin now. He hissed, a sharp inhale that she felt more than heard.

The sound made her smirk widen. "Still hurt?" she asked, squeezing lightly.

"Little," he admitted, his tone equal parts truth and tease. "But it's not stopping me."

"Good," she said, and her grip tightened—not cruelly, but with a deliberate rhythm that had his eyes narrowing in approval.

He let her play for a moment, his gaze dark and heavy-lidded, before his free hand slid to her hip. In one sharp motion, he shifted them—rolling her onto her back and straddling her hips, his cock brushing against her stomach again as he loomed over her.

Sira's breath hitched, not from fear—Pride didn't fear—but from the way his presence pressed against every inch of her awareness.

He bent down, catching her mouth in another kiss, this one deeper, hotter, his hips grinding just enough to make the friction deliciously frustrating.

When he broke away, his breath was warm against her ear. "You're a virgin, aren't you?"

Her smile was slow, sharp. "Observant."

"That means I get to ruin you first," he murmured, his voice low enough to make her toes curl.

Her laugh was quiet, but the sound shook just slightly. "Confident."

"Always."

Then his hand slid between them again, fingers teasing her until she arched under him. Her nails dug into his shoulders, the faint sting pulling another hiss from him—but instead of slowing him down, it made his grin widen.

"Like that?" he asked, tone dripping with smug amusement.

She bit her lip but didn't answer, which only made him push harder. His touch was calculated—every press and stroke meant to wind her tighter, drag her right up to the edge without tipping her over.

"Lux…" she breathed, and damn it if that didn't make him grin like the devil he was.

"Say it again."

"Lux."

Her voice cracked just enough to satisfy him.

He shifted lower, his mouth finding her breast, lips closing over her nipple while his hand kept working between her thighs. The combination was enough to make her head tip back, a low sound escaping her despite herself.

"Sensitive everywhere," he murmured against her skin, his breath hot. "Perfect."

Her hand slid down again, wrapping around him with more intent this time, stroking him in sync with his touch.