Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation
Chapter 70: You Feel… (18+)

Chapter 70: You Feel... (18+)

Chapter 70 – You Feel... (18+)

Her tentacle coiled gently, reverently, as if even the monster in her blood understood that this—he—was worthy of worship.

Lux exhaled sharply.

Not controlled. Not calculated.

A real, guttural sound that vibrated in his throat as his head tilted back and his eyes fluttered half-lidded with pleasure.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, low and shameless.

He sounded ruined. Beautifully ruined.

Rava felt her entire body heat in response, her thighs squeezing together as her own breath hitched, and her other tentacles reacted—snaking across his chest, his thighs, his back, like they needed to feel all of him. One kissed along his jaw. Another slid along the groove of his hip. She didn’t even realize she was breathing harder.

He looked down at her through thick lashes, mouth parted, pupils dilated with infernal heat.

"You enjoy this?" he rasped.

She didn’t answer.

Her tentacle did—suckling around the tip of erection again, slow, drawn out, sensual. Her eyes locked to his, and her lips curled just slightly in satisfaction.

He growled. Yeah, that was so good.

He could feel how she loved his cock and how much she wanted him.

Then he moved.

He pulled her up, hands gripping her thighs as he walked her backward—no hesitation, no pause. He moved like gravity was optional and he owned the world inside this suite. She clung to him, tentacles and hands and mouth all trying to memorize the heat of him against her skin. The city lights spilled in through the windows behind them, gold and silver flashing like reflections off ocean waves—and her silhouette curled against his in the shadows, wild and reverent.

He laid her on the bed with care that felt dangerous.

And then he climbed over her, hands bracketing her waist, his body caging hers in heat and shadow and power.

Her tentacles spread instinctively, fanned around her like a halo of hunger, clinging to the sheets, to him, to the headboard. They didn’t know where to anchor because every part of her wanted every part of him. And he saw it—felt it—and he smiled.

Dark. Slow. Hungry.

Then he leaned in and kissed her—hard.

His mouth devoured her like it was his only salvation. His tongue claimed. His hands traced her ribs, down her hips, then back up again, pressing into her like he wanted to memorize her shape under his palms.

"Tell me you want it," he whispered into her mouth.

"I do."

"Say it again."

"I crave you," she murmured, her pulse quickening.

He groaned into her neck.

And when he licked the base of her throat and bit down softly, her tentacles tightened around his waist, dragging him closer until their bodies were flush—skin to skin, heat to heat, no space left for shame or second thoughts.

Lux pulled back just long enough to look at her—really look.

Eyes glowing faintly, breath heavy, skin dewed with heat and longing, her body half-bound in her own writhing limbs as if even she couldn’t handle the need. Her hair was fanned against the pillow like a crown. Her lips were bruised from his kisses. And she looked—

Divine.

Not celestial.

Not pure.

But like a goddess of the sea who’d claimed her favorite sinner and wasn’t letting go.

"You’re perfect like this," he murmured. "Open. Desperate. Mine."

Then he reached down, tracing the line of her inner thigh, slowly, teasingly, as if he had all the time in the world.

She moaned.

"Lux..."

He kissed her again. "Shh," he whispered. "I’m going to ruin you."

Her hips arched.

Her tentacles twitched.

And he smiled into her mouth.

Like he already had.

Like her body was already his favorite territory, already charted on a map inked in breathless gasps and the taste of want.

He moved slowly—deliberately—like he was savoring the build, the way her thighs trembled, how her chest heaved every time he exhaled against her skin. She didn’t just want him now—she needed him, each second thickening with that aching pulse between them. A current. A pull.

His shaft brushed against her entrance, and they both stilled for a breath.

Rava’s lips parted, but the sound caught in her throat—a tremble, a silent plea, every inch of her strung tight like deep-sea pressure waiting to shatter. Her tentacles curled across his back, the suckers pulsing like frantic kisses along his spine, his ribs, his hips. One wrapped again around the base of him, giving one final, desperate squeeze—like it was guiding him. Inviting. Welcoming.

Lux groaned, low and rough.

"Don’t tease me now," he whispered, voice thick with restraint. "Not when you’re this ready."

She whimpered.

And then—he pushed into her.

Slow at first.

Hot, thick, stretching.

Her body took him inch by inch, every part of her burning open, breath catching, mouth trembling with the shock of it. He filled her with the slow certainty of someone who knew what he was doing, what she needed, and exactly how much pressure would turn her inside out.

"Gods..." she gasped, head tilting back.

Lux kissed her throat. Her collarbone. And then his mouth moved lower.

He caught her nipple between his lips, suckling gently—then harder.

The contrast nearly broke her.

His mouth was heat and command, wet and worshipful. His tongue circled her in rhythm with the slow roll of his hips, and every movement stoked her higher. She was shaking now, and her tentacles mirrored it—some tightening around the bedposts, others coiling possessively around his arms and thighs like she was trying to anchor herself to him, like the sea tethering itself to the moon.

Lux growled against her chest, biting just enough to make her cry out. Then he thrust deeper.

She gasped again, clutching at his shoulders as his pace grew, his shaft driving into her with increasing urgency. Every time he moved, she swore she felt the shape of him echo inside her, imprinting something sacred, something dangerous.

"You feel..." he breathed, voice raw, "so perfect."

She couldn’t speak anymore.

Only feel.

Only writhe.

Only moan.