From Goblin Slave To Giga-Daddy: A Goblin's Guide to Getting a Harem
Chapter 66: Adrian’s offer!

Chapter 66: Adrian’s offer!

Alice lay in the dim warmth of her tent, eyes glued to the entrance like a cat in heat waiting for its prey.

She had expected Rae to sneak in.

Hell, she counted on it.

But the flap never moved.

No shadows, no whispers, no cute "Madame" at her door.

Her fingers twitched.

Her insides squirmed with frustration.

Her breasts felt heavy—aching, throbbing, screaming to be milked.

Four damn days without release and they were practically bursting.

"Dammit!"

She growled under her breath, grinding her thighs together.

No use pretending anymore.

She slipped a hand beneath her nightwear, fingers diving between slick folds, the other cupping a full, swollen tit that throbbed in her palm.

Her breath hitched. It wasn’t the same as Rae’s clumsy gropes, but it’d do for now.

Her soft moans filled the tent, sultry and slow at first...then rising.

But outside her little sanctuary, just beyond the canvas wall, someone else was having their own private show.

Adrian.

The pervy bastard had his ear pressed right to the flap, hand furiously jerking his cock like it owed him rent.

’Haah... that’s it... that’s the sound of a woman starving for a man. And not just any man... me.’

He licked his lips with disgusting delight, the sound muffled by his own low groans.

He had wanted her from the moment he laid eyes on her—the way her hips moved, the way her tits bounced when she walked, the sharp tongue hiding the softest body in camp.

A feast. A literal goddess walking around with milk-filled jugs and no one to drink from them? Tragic.

’And Alex... pfft.’

He snorted, his strokes growing faster.

’What’s that limp-dicked clown even doing with her? If she’s finger-fucking herself while he’s healed and breathing, that man deserves prison.’

His knuckles went white around his shaft. His breathing became ragged.

’Soon... after the plan goes through, they said she’s mine. All mine. Every single bite. I’ll devour her... drain her dry...’

He slurped audibly, eyes rolling back with the image of Alice moaning, milk spilling, thighs quivering.

Inside the tent, Alice bucked against her own hand.

Outside, Adrian grunted like a wild boar.

Neither knew how dangerously close the other was.

...

"So we can fight now?"

Alex asked as he gently stood, stretching with a grunt that made him sound older than he was.

His body cracked like dry twigs, but he looked pleased.

Across the room, Bryce and Lyra chose to sprawl out and savor the luxury of staying in bed a little longer.

It was still morning, after all—no one sane wanted to deal with goblins before breakfast.

"I said you’re healed, not that you’re ready to fight."

Alice corrected, arms crossed as she eyed Alex like a school nurse tired of treating the same idiot.

Her tone was flat, but her thoughts? Oh, they were boiling.

Last night’s self-satisfying release had helped. Barely. Like trying to put out a wildfire with a cup of water.

She had waited for Rae—hoped he’d come sneaking into her tent like a sweet little deviant—but no.

Not even a shadow at her door.

She searched for him in the morning while she was coming for the treatment, only to learn the one thing she didn’t want to hear.

He was still in Melissa’s tent.

A pang hit her chest. Then another in her gut. Then lower.

Jealousy. Hot, irrational, messy jealousy.

What the hell is he doing in her tent? All night?

She clenched her jaw thinking about it.

But then again... it was Melissa.

Out of all the women in camp, Melissa was different. Older, calmer, kind of... maternal.

Alice respected her.

Hell, sometimes she even took advice from her.

If Rae was with her, then—ugh, it couldn’t be anything suspicious, right?

Still. That didn’t stop her mind from spinning.

’If it were Celeste? I’d be outside the tent with a torch.’

’If it were Lyra, I’d have dragged her by her weave already.’

’But Melissa? Melissa was just... Melissa.’

So instead of full-blown panic, she settled for quietly seething like a simmering kettle.

What she was truly worried about... was him.

Rae.

The clumsy bastard who, just yesterday, somehow made her cum without even realizing it.

That’s how absurdly clueless he was.

His hands wandered, his lips pouted in innocence—and her body betrayed her every damn time.

She let out a long, simmering sigh. No point overthinking it now.

"If we’re healed, then surely we can—" Alex began.

"No, you can’t! You’re an empty bottle now, alright? You need to fill it with water first."

The metaphor made zero sense, but it didn’t matter, Alex was already blinking like a confused fish.

Good. Let him stew in it.

Alice had no patience for his early-morning chirpiness, not with her boobs aching, her thighs clenching, and her mind spiraling with everything Rae-related.

"One more day of rest. Eat. Sleep. Recharge. No hero bullshit."

She didn’t wait for a reply.

She just turned and walked out of the tent, letting the flap close behind her with a thwack of finality.

Outside, the morning sun hit her face. Her eyes instinctively drifted toward Melissa’s tent.

She paused. Just for a second.

Then sighed again.

’Stop it, Alice. He’s not even yours...’

Her feet moved on their own, guiding her toward her own tent.

Maybe she could sneak in a nap. Or cry. Or milk herself like a lonely cow. Who knew at this point?

"Wow... as beautiful as always."

The voice struck her ears like nails on a chalkboard.

She turned her head and found the source: Adrian.

Leaning against a tree. Chewing a blade of grass like some try-hard discount romantic hero from a low-budget stage play. One eyebrow cocked. Shirt half-unbuttoned like he practiced the pose in front of a mirror.

Alice’s eye twitched.

’Oh gods, someone save me.’

She debated whether to gag or punch him.

"Thank you."

She muttered, voice flat as day-old soup.

And then she kept walking.

Gods, she hated these little encounters.

The way his eyes slithered over her skin like ants under a dress.

The smug curve of his lips.

That oily confidence he wore like cheap cologne.

And the worst part was that, he hadn’t done enough to justify kicking his ass out of the group.

Just subtle, lingering looks and gross flirtations that tiptoed on the edge of "technically not harassment."

Her patience was a slow-burning wick, and Adrian was the lit match hovering dangerously close.

"Man, if it wasn’t for me..."

Adrian said lazily, pushing off the tree with a dramatic sigh.

"Alex would’ve been dead already. You should’ve seen the way that spear hit him... poor guy."

That stopped her in her tracks.

He smirked, his eyes dragging along her spine to her ass like a sleazy auctioneer checking for defects on prized livestock. Then he licked his lips.

Licked.

His.

Lips.

"If you’re thinking about sending him back into battle again... I’d strongly advise against it."

Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t turn—yet.

"Why?"

She asked, already knowing she’d regret giving him the floor.

"Simply because," he purred, taking a step closer, "your husband is weak... and he doesn’t have any skill... in aaannyyy area..."

His gaze dipped down like it had a damn magnet for her curves.

Alice’s foot twitched.

Just one well-placed kick. Just one solid punt to the nuts and this slimeball would fold like a lawn chair.

But no. Not yet.

She turned around slowly, like a panther weighing whether to maul or maim.

"You don’t think he’s still here just because of his luck, do you?"

Alice’s arms folded across her chest—across, not under.

No way she was giving Adrian even a hint of a show.

He chuckled.

"Months ago, sure. He was the strongest. The best of us. But look around now... everyone’s passed him. Even you. And he’s still stuck where he was."

Alice said nothing.

Because damn it, that part was true.

Adrian grinned, sensing the silence as weakness.

"Maybe it’s the milky meat he’s been stuffing himself with lately..."

He slurped his lips like a pervert tasting soup, and Alice’s eyes snapped shut. Not to meditate. To survive.

"Now? He’s just dead weight. Dragging us down."

She didn’t respond.

She was too busy trying to suppress the urge to shatter his jaw.

"And when it happens again... when he’s in peril next time, who’s gonna save him?"

"Melissa? She’s up in the trees."

"Lyra and Bryce? Those two can’t even save each other."

"Celeste? She’d rather win a battle than save a friend."

"..."

Still nothing from Alice. But her jaw clenched.

She should’ve walked away.

She should’ve.

The second he opened his mouth, she should’ve just left him standing there like a clown.

But now... now his words weren’t just noise.

They were knives. And the worst part?

They’d landed.

Right in the softest part of her heart.

"So... if you really want me to save him again... if you want to see him more..."

Adrian leaned in, eyes like a starving dog.

"Come to me. Alone. We could strike a little deal, something mutually... beneficial."

His gaze burned with pure, unfiltered lust.

Being this close to Alice was driving him crazy.

She was right there. Right there. His hand twitched, his heart thumped.

He could barely stop himself.

"Anyway, don’t take too long to think. We might venture out in two days..."

With that, he spread his arms like he was the sexiest thing alive, gave her a cocky wink, and backed away like some knockoff romantic hero leaving a woman swooning.

Alice didn’t swoon. She nearly puked in her mouth.