My Taboo Harem!-Chapter 287: Emily Holding the Holy Relic

The door opened.

Emily stood there with an armful of clothes—fresh uniforms for him and the girls, neatly folded, probably ironed knowing her—and whatever she’d been about to say died in her throat.

Because Phei was naked.

Completely.

Gloriously.

He’d forgotten, honestly. Hadn’t even thought about it. His ruined clothes were in a pile somewhere, the girls were still unconscious, and he’d been standing there reviewing System notifications like nudity was just... a state of being.

A casual Tuesday afternoon thing.

But Emily—

Her eyes went wide. Like her brain had just bluescreened and was desperately trying to reboot.

And then she looked.

Not or a quick peek followed by embarrassed averting. She looked—the way someone looks at a painting in a museum, like a sunset she was trying to memorize, like he was something so impossibly beautiful she needs to catalogue every detail before it disappears.

Her gaze started at his shoulders. Broad. Built. And she had made fantasies; being picked up, being held, being pinned.

Down to his chest. The definition there, the way his muscles moved under his skin when he breathed, the sheer presence of him.

His abs. God, his abs. She counted them—he could see her lips moving slightly, one-two-three-four-five-six, the last forming pair too... like she was taking inventory of a treasure she’d just discovered.

The V-line at his hips. That cruel arrow pointing downward, drawing the eye exactly where it wanted to go.

And then—

Her gaze dropped.

And stayed.

Phei watched her watching him.

Watched her face cycle through about seven different emotions in the span of three seconds—shock, disbelief, hunger, more shock, something that looked almost like religious awe, and then a desperate attempt at composure that failed so spectacularly it was almost art.

Her cheeks went pink.

Then red.

Then a shade of crimson that probably had a fancy name in paint catalogues. Something like "Virgin’s First Glimpse" or "Oh God It’s Huge."

And still... she didn’t look away.

"Ah~"

There it is.

That reaction. The one he’d been getting more and more lately. The wide-eyed, slack-jawed, brain-short-circuiting reaction of a woman seeing something her body understood even if her mind was still catching up.

Emily was a virgin. Sweet. Innocent. The girl who probably blushed at kissing scenes in movies and had never seen a cock outside of anatomy textbooks, or porn she sneaked to watch.

But she was also an American teenage girl in the twenty-first century. Not naive. Not sheltered. She knew things, even if she’d never experienced them. Knew how to appreciate a beautiful body when she saw one.

Knew what that heat building in her belly meant.

And right now?

Right now... she was frozen.

Couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything except stand there with her mouth slightly open and her arms full of clothes she’d completely forgotten she was holding.

Well, Phei thought, fighting back a grin, I am literally a god now. Or close enough. Can’t really blame her for having a normal human reaction to divinity.

Was that arrogant?

Yes.

Was it also objectively true?

Also, yes.

He’s had rebuilt him from the ground up. Had taken what he’d been; the pathetic charity case everyone used to mock and forged something... else. Something better. Something that made women forget how to breathe just by existing in the same room.

He’d earned this body. Earned these reactions. And if Emily wanted to stand there admiring the view—

Well.

He was a humble man.

A generous teenager and boss.

A man who would never dream of denying a beautiful woman the simple pleasure of appreciating art... much less Emily who was now his assistant or something.

So, he let her look.

It was a form of reward, really.

Humble, right?

Emily stood there, completely shameless, confident in every inch of himself, while his assistant’s eyes devoured him like he was the first meal she’d seen in weeks.

Take your time, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.

She took a step forward.

Unconscious. Automatic. Like her body was moving without consulting her brain first.

Then another.

Her free hand—the one not clutching clothes—reached out. Trembling slightly. Moving toward him like it had its own agenda and Emily was just along for the ride.

Phei didn’t move.

Didn’t stop her.

Just watched with quiet amusement as her fingers found his stomach first. Traced the lines of his abs with a touch so light it was almost reverent. Her breath hitched. A small sound escaped her throat—not quite a moan, not quite a whimper, something in between that said her body was waking up to possibilities it had never seriously considered before.

Her hand drifted lower.

Following that V-line.

Following the path her eyes had already memorized.

And then—

Her fingers wrapped around his cock.

Warm, she must have thought. That was always the first thing women noticed. How warm he was there. How alive.

Her hand barely fit around him. Could feel the weight of it, the thickness, the way it pulsed slightly in her grip like it had its own heartbeat.

For one perfect moment, Emily just... held him.

Eyes wide. Lips parted. Face the colour of a fire engine.

And then her brain came back online.

"I—"

Her voice cracked.

"This is—"

She looked down at her hand. At what was in her hand. At the fact that she, Emily Hartwell, scholarship student and dutiful assistant, was currently gripping her boss’s cock in a room where two other women were sleeping off an orgasm coma not ten feet away.

"Oh my GOD—"

She let go like he was on fire.

The clothes went flying—uniforms scattering across the floor in a cascade of fabric and mortification.

The shriek that came out of her was something between a tea kettle and a startled cat. High-pitched. Desperate.

The sound of a virgin’s dignity making a break for it.

And then she ran.

Actually ran. Spun on her heel and bolted through the door like the room was full of bees, leaving chaos and scattered clothing in her wake.

The door slammed behind her.

Phei stood there for a moment.

Naked. Alone. Surrounded by the aftermath of Emily’s spectacular meltdown.

And then he laughed. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Deep and genuine and so full of warmth it surprised even him.

God, she’s adorable. He closed the door—properly this time—and bent to gather the scattered uniforms. Adorable and absolutely fucked when I finally get around to claiming her.

But that’s for later.

Emily had come with more than just clothes.

She’d had something to report—would have told him in person if he hadn’t, you know, scrambled her brain with his godly presence. But she’d managed to text him afterwards, once she’d presumably stopped hyperventilating in some distant hallway.

Brian and Landon wanted to meet.

Tomorrow’s challenge needed discussing. Strategy. Game plan. The actual basketball part of this whole "challenge Marcus Heavenchild and the team to a basketball match" situation that Phei had maybe not thought through as thoroughly as he should have.

Oops.

***

The meeting room was neutral territory—one of those study spaces on the second floor that nobody used after hours. Brian was already there when Phei arrived, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed and an expression that said "I really hope I didn’t just bet my reputation on a guy who can’t actually play."

Landon was nervous. Twitchy. The kind of energy that said he still couldn’t quite believe he’d agreed to this.

"So," Brian said, cutting straight to it. "You not only challenged Marcus Heavenchild but the whole to a basketball game challenge too."

"I did."

"In front of the entire school."

"Also true."

"And you expect us to help you win."