Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation-Chapter 433: You’re My Patient

Chapter 433 – You’re My Patient

Her hands reached down, unfastening his belt with practiced grace. The clink of the buckle hitting the mattress sounded louder than it should’ve. Her fingers toyed with the waistband of his slacks, her smile growing with every slow tug.

"And now you’re my patient," she declared, voice lower now—thicker, soaked with heat. "Unclench, Mr. Vaelthorn."

Lux gave her a flat look. "That is not how therapy works."

"It is now."

She pushed him back onto the bed. Hard enough that he bounced once. His eyes flared, half in amusement, half in challenge. Her dress slipped fully down her torso as she straddled his hips, and the sight of her— hair loose, flushed cheeks, lips kiss-bitten, body bared and glowing with pride—made his breath hitch.

"You’re beautiful," he said, almost without thinking.

Sira blinked, then grinned, slow and satisfied. "I know."

She leaned down, dragging her tongue along his jaw, tasting the salt of his skin, the electric buzz of barely-contained power under flesh.

"But so are you," she added, lips brushing his ear. "All that gold and steel and sin under that boring CFO suit. Mmm. What a waste of potential."

"I’m very efficient," Lux muttered, even as her hand drifted lower, pressing against the growing heat between them.

"Not in this department," she teased, fingers bold now, sliding along the fabric, tracing the thick outline straining beneath. "You’ve been suppressing this. I can feel it. All that tension. All that greed."

His hips flexed under her, involuntary. "I am Greed," he reminded her.

She purred. "Exactly. So stop holding back like some mortal monk and take what you want." 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

He caught her hand then—gripping her wrist with enough force to make her breath catch, but not enough to hurt.

"Oh, I will," he said.

But he didn’t move.

Not yet.

Because now it was his turn to stare.

And did he stare.

Sira felt it. The way his eyes roamed her like a map he’d just decided to conquer. No rush. No hesitation. Just certainty. She could almost feel herself being cataloged in his mind. Every inch. Every reaction. Every soft breath and sharp inhale.

His other hand rose and cupped the back of her neck. Not demanding. Just grounding.

Sira’s lips parted, her breath unsteady. "Lux," she said, softly.

He exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for centuries.

Then he pulled her down again.

They didn’t speak after that. Not right away.

Only sounds—the rustle of sheets, the soft groan of a mattress shifting, the sighs and gasps and half-laughed curses whispered into collarbones. His fingers learned her curves with slow, possessiveness.

Her hands memorized the hard lines of his chest, the ridges of muscle, the scars that weren’t visible to others.

She kissed his sternum, and he kissed her throat.

And when he flipped them, pressing her into the pillows with a growl that made her toes curl—Sira laughed. Loud and delighted.

"You’re enjoying this too much," he muttered, lips trailing down her collarbone.

"I’m a Pride demon," she gasped, arching under his mouth. "Everything is performance."

Lux’s mouth dragged down the curve of her neck, teeth grazing skin that tasted like starlight and sin. He didn’t answer her quip with words. He answered with heat. His tongue traced her collarbone. His palm gripped her thigh. And Sira—Sira reveled in it.

Her fingers laced into his hair. Just enough pressure to guide him, not command him. Not that he’d listen.

He was gone now. The knots in his spine had finally snapped. He’d stopped being Lux Vaelthorn, CFO of Hell’s most cutthroat enterprise. Right now?

He was just a man with too much magic in his veins and nowhere to put it but her.

Good.

Because she had every intention of being the problem and the solution.

Her hands roamed. First his shoulders—tense, broad, solid like forged gold. Then down his back, across his ribs, along the ridges of muscle carved by centuries of ambition. He was so warm. So alive under her touch. And when she shifted, straddling his hips again, her thighs pressing in on either side, she felt it.

His need. Pressed against her. Insistent. Hot.

"You’re still holding back," she whispered against his ear, voice a blade wrapped in velvet. "Even now."

Lux grunted low in his throat. "I’m not."

"You are." She kissed his jaw. "But I’ll fix it."

She slid down his body, slow as silk in gravity.

His breath caught.

Her hand moved with purpose now—fingers trailing just low enough to earn his full attention. The moment she brushed against the heat beneath his slacks, he hissed through his teeth.

"Quit playing around," he said, voice rougher now. "Do it already."

"No," she purred, nails scraping lightly along the fabric. Her eyes gleamed—sharp, wicked. "I want you squirming. Maybe even a whimper if I’m lucky."

His golden eyes flashed. "I don’t whimper."

"Yet."

Sira’s touch was maddening—delicate one moment, firm the next. She traced along the hardness she felt beneath the fabric with a reverence that felt almost holy. Almost.

But this was no worship.

This was possession.

She wanted to make him unravel. Slowly. Deliberately. She wanted to see the cracks in his control bloom open like infernal roses. Not because he was weak—but because he chose to let her have him like this. Vulnerable. Wanting.

So few ever got this version of him.

Only her.

"Look at you," she whispered, voice dripping with sin as her lips brushed over his stomach. "Always in control. Always calculating. But right now? You’re mine."

Lux growled, but didn’t stop her.

Couldn’t.

His hands fisted the sheets when she leaned down further, her breath ghosting over him—teasing. Torturing.

He bit back a groan. His spine arched slightly when her fingers returned, this time curling around him with the kind of grip that said ’I know exactly what I’m doing.’

And she did.

Lux’s head tilted back, lashes fluttering. His breath left him in a slow, trembled exhale that made her grin deepen.