My Taboo Harem!-Chapter 296: Amber’s Price
Phei burst into the hallway at a full sprint—shirt hanging open, most buttons gone forever, chest heaving from the sudden shift from Patricia’s desk to this chase. He caught only the tail end of blonde hair whipping around the corner toward the arts wing—a flash of cream cardigan vanishing like smoke, skirt fluttering high enough to show the backs of her thighs.
"Amber!"
His shout slammed off the lockers and died unanswered.
He ran harder.
Empty classrooms blurred past—chalk dust still floating in the stale air, desks lined up like silent witnesses. Another sharp turn—another glimpse: long legs flashing pale under the dim emergency lights, skirt riding up to expose the lace tops of her stockings, then gone again.
"Amber, wait—"
Nothing but the echo of his own voice and the slap of his shoes on tile.
The arts wing felt like a different world—half the overheads killed for "energy savings," long shadows stretching between practice-room doors, the air cooler and quieter, smelling faintly of old paint and rosin.
His footsteps rang too loud; his breath came ragged, lungs burning after everything he’d just poured into Patricia, not from tired, worried, actually worried.
Where the fuck—
The auditorium doors stood slightly ajar—a thin slice of red exit-sign glow leaking into the corridor like blood.
He slowed. Listened.
Silence.
Then—the soft creak of a seat folding down. Someone settling in deliberately.
Phei pushed the doors open.
The auditorium yawned dark and empty except for her.
Amber sat dead center in the front row—legs crossed at the knee, one arm draped lazily over the seat beside her like she’d been waiting all semester instead of a few frantic seconds.
The house lights were off, but the red emergency signs bathed her in bloody amber—turning her blonde hair copper, her skin porcelain, her eyes glittering like polished black glass. She looked less like a girl who’d been caught spying and more like a predator who’d lured him here on purpose.
She didn’t flinch when he stepped into the aisle.
Didn’t run.
Just watched him approach—slow, unhurried—with the same sharp, knowing gaze that had been pressed to the classroom window, the same hand that had been massaging slow circles over her own breast while she watched him devour Patricia on the desk.
"Took you long enough," she said, voice calm, almost bored—like she hadn’t just witnessed her chemistry teacher getting eaten out on a desk.
Phei stopped at the end of her row—chest still heaving, shirt ruined, chest exposed, sweat and Patricia’s scent still clinging to his skin. He looked exactly like what he was: a man interrupted mid-feast, still hard beneath his pants, still dangerous, still very much in control.
"Amber—"
"No need to explain, Phei." She rose from the seat in one fluid motion—hips swaying as she walked toward him down the aisle, skirt hugging her ass, heels clicking sharp against the floor. "Save us both the time. I know what you want."
Do you, though?
Honestly, he owed no explanation and wasn’t about to give her one, but she was taking the lead.
She stopped close enough that he could smell her perfume—expensive floral undercut with the faint musk of her own arousal and she could smell him too.
"You want me to keep quiet." She tilted her head, red light catching the curve of her cheekbone. "Pretend I didn’t see Ms. Bloom spread open like a buffet. Pretend I didn’t see you between her legs like you owned every inch of her. Pretend I didn’t watch her nearly come on your tongue while she screamed your name."
Phei said nothing.
His silence was louder than any denial.
"Smart," she continued, stepping closer—close enough that her breasts brushed his chest through her blouse.
"I want you," she said softly. "As my boy toy."
Phei blinked once.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Her fingers found the torn edge of his shirt—traced the open gap where buttons used to be, nails scraping lightly over his chest, down his abs, stopping just above his belt. "When I call, you come. When I want something—anything—you give it. No questions. No attitude. Just..." She leaned in, lips brushing his ear, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "...obedience."
The word came out like sex.
"The details," she said, stepping back, "we’ll discuss later. I’ll call you."
She turned on her heel—skirt swishing, ass swaying deliberately—like she owned him already.
Amber started walking back up the aisle toward the exit—slow, unhurried, hips rolling with deliberate, filthy grace, each sway of her small, sexy, perky ass catching the red emergency light like it was painted on just for his eyes.
The tight skirt hugged every curve—clinging to the narrow, slim waist that dipped dramatically before flaring into the high, tight bubble of her ass.
The fabric stretched thin across her cheeks with every step—riding up slightly, hugging the perfect heart shape ass, the outline of her dislocated thong visible through the material: a thin, dark line bisecting her ass, the lace so soaked earlier that the dried wet spot had left a faint, unmistakable shadow—the telltale mark of how much she’d been dripping while she watched him and Patricia through the window.
The crotch of her panties had been drenched—the dried outline now a darker, crinkled patch against the light fabric, proof she’d been rubbing herself raw just from spying.
She glanced back over her shoulder once—lips curved in a high, bright, infuriatingly smug giggle—eyes glittering with triumph, blonde hair swinging like a tease.
"Don’t look so worried, Phei," she purred, voice dripping honey and venom. "This might even be fun."
The auditorium doors swung shut behind her with a soft, final thud—echoing like a gunshot in the empty dark. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞
Phei stood alone in the red-washed silence.
The image burned into his mind: that small, perky ass rolling away, narrow waist twisting with every step, the dried outline of her soaked thong still visible through the skirt like a brand. She thought she’d won.
Thought she’d caught him.
Thought she could walk away with leverage and a smug little laugh.
Boy toy.
The phrase rattled in his skull like a cheap, plastic joke told by someone who thought they’d caught lightning in a bottle.
She thought she’d trapped him. Thought one stolen glimpse through a window had given her real leverage—the kind that lasted, the kind that bent people. Thought she could throw a leash around a dragon’s neck and parade him like a pet, make him heel, make him perform on command.
Cute.
His lips curled.
Not a smile.
Something hungrier.
Something with teeth.
Boy toy? Bitch, please.
He wasn’t a wolf to be tamed.
He was a dragon.
And dragons didn’t wear collars. We eat the ones who trys to put them on us.
The red light flickered across his face—violet eyes glowing faintly, pupils narrowed to slits, mouth curved in a slow, predatory smile that promised ruin.
Amber thought she’d won.
She had no idea what she’d just invited into her life.
