Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 770 – LUST EXCEEDS SAFE LIMITS

Sira managed the longest.

Pride kept her upright even when his Lust aura made her vision blur. She met him with heat, with challenge, with her nails dragging down his back, but even she buckled when his body closed around hers, wings trapping her against the bed, his breath shaking against her throat.

Her pride shattered first.

Her strength second.

Her composure last.

Then Ely.

Lux grabbed her as if drawn to the elegance she carried, but when he pressed against her, when the full weight of his lust crashed into her body, even Ely’s composure shattered in a trembling arc of her spine.

Her limbs wrapped around him.

Her breath fractured.

Her body gave out.

Mira was the only one who tried to control the pace.

Dragon pride.

Dragon endurance.

But the moment Lux pinned her, his torso flush against her scales, his tail curling around her thigh, his aura crashing through her like heat against metal, even Mira’s body trembled. She met him with fire until fire wasn’t enough to keep her steady.

And Lullaby...

When Lux reached her, his body shaking from the endless waves of desire, she didn’t resist or compete or challenge.

She simply took his face in her hands, calm, gentle, and let him collapse into her warmth. She anchored him even as he moved with violent hunger, even as he trembled from the thousand fires inside his veins.

But even she didn’t withstand him long.

His mouth crushed against her collarbone.

His grip pulled her closer than her small frame could handle.

His aura dragged her under until she shook in his arms, overwhelmed by the depth of his power.

The night turned into hours.

Hours into something longer.

Lux didn’t tire.

His body burned through every release like kindling, each climax only stoking the next wave of hunger. His muscles strained, his wings trembled, his chest rose in low, ragged breaths, but he didn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

Every time he finished, another pulse of Lust simmered in his veins, re-hardening him instantly, dragging him toward the nearest trembling body beneath him. His shaft ached constantly, painfully, beautifully, swollen with need that wouldn’t fade no matter how violently he spent it.

He marked skin until none of them were untouched.

He left bruises of lips and teeth on breasts, shoulders, thighs.

He buried his face against every curve, every scent, every breathless shiver.

He used his hands, his tail, his mouth, his weight, every inch of him consumed with one purpose...

More.

He moved between them with feral precision, arms trembling from holding himself over each woman as they fell one by one, collapsing, panting, shaking, unable to stand.

The sheets were ruined.

The bedframe cracked.

The room smelled of sweat, heat, breath, Lust.

His system screamed endlessly.

[WARNING: LUST EXCEEDS SAFE LIMITS]

Lux never saw a single message.

He was past thought.

Past restraint.

Past reason.

He was a royal incubus burning through every vein, every nerve, every drop of Greed until nothing remained but sin and instinct.

He didn’t collapse until the sun threatened the horizon.

Even then...

He was still hard.

Still trembling.

Still wanting.

And the women around him lay in a circle of exhausted, trembling bodies, marked, breathless, overwhelmed, each one taken past every limit they’d ever known.

The morning came.

Not gently.

Not with sunlight.

Not with the soft rise of warmth across the sheets.

But with something wet.

And warm.

And... moving?

Lux’s eyes cracked open.

A groan rumbled out of his throat, low, ragged, the kind that belonged to someone who had spent the night doing things that broke the laws of stamina, physics, and probability.

His vision blurred for a moment.

Then focused.

On thighs.

Naomi’s thighs.

Wrapped around his head.

Flesh pressed to his face.

Soft.

Warm.

Faintly damp.

Lux blinked very slowly.

...Oh.

He didn’t wake up in sunlight.

He woke up in Naomi.

His groan became a muffled complaint somewhere between resignation and existential crisis.

Fantastic.

Great.

He passed out between her thighs.

Very dignified.

Very CFO.

Very demon of Greed.

He gently, carefully, extracted himself from the soft trap, moving Naomi’s legs aside with the precision of someone defusing a bomb.

Her breath hitched but she didn’t wake.

Her cheeks were flushed even in sleep.

Her breasts rose softly with each inhale.

Her hair was a mess of silk and sweat and last night’s chaos.

Lux sat up.

Or tried to.

A sharp pressure brushed against his lower stomach.

He froze.

Slowly.

Cautiously.

He looked down.

...

Sira.

Passed out.

Between his thighs.

Her face resting against his inner leg, cheek pressed near the still-wet evidence of last night’s sins. One horn gently touching his hip. One hand resting over his lower stomach like she had fallen asleep mid-claim.

Lux exhaled through his nose.

Perfect.

Wonderful.

This was fine.

Just a normal Thursday morning after six woman feral Lust rampage.

He dragged a hand down his face.

Slowly.

Deeply.

As if wiping away regret would work.

His cock twitched with morning instinct.

Sira murmured in her sleep and nuzzled closer.

”Nope,” Lux whispered internally. ”Not today. Not again.”

He lifted her head gently, like handling a cursed artifact, and laid her to the side.

Rava was sprawled on her back, tentacles half-limp, one still stuck to the headboard.

Ely slept with the dignity of a queen despite being covered in marks.

Mira was starfished across the floor like she lost a boss raid.

Lullaby curled atop a pillow, soft breaths rising and falling.

All of them unconscious.

Like corpses in ripped lingerie.

Lux rolled his shoulders.

His body felt...

Amazing, actually.

Not sore.

Not tired.

Not aching.

Incubus physiology was blessed by hellish design, optimized for sin, engineered for pleasure. His muscles hummed, his skin tingled faintly, wings recharged and tail lazily swaying like it had its own dreams.

But his mind?

His mind was a crime scene.

He sat there for a moment, blank staring at the opposite wall, mentally running a self-diagnostic.

He knew his brain was offline because if someone asked him ”1 + 1” right now, he would confidently answer ”11.”

Not even joking.

He felt stupid.

Happy stupid.

Feral stupid.

Post lust stupid.