Chapter 270: Take the Win

Okay.

This was going to sound insane even inside his own skull, and Phei had already lived through several flavors of insane today.

He walked the admin hallway like a man trying to outrun his own erection and his own common sense at the same time. Lips still buzzing. Skin still electric. Body thrumming with the afterimage of whatever the fuck had just happened in that office—like he'd mainlined lightning and then tried to pretend it was just static cling.

But something didn't add up.

No matter how feral her hunger had been—and Christ, the woman reekedvirginityand had radiatedstarvationlike afamine victimwho'd just smelled bread—no matter how untouched she clearly was(virginity at her age? Late thirties? Forty?

The former queen of Paradise who'd had every cock in a generation salivating after her, still a fuckingvirgin? That was statisticallyderanged.

And objectively, catastrophically hot.

The thought of being the first tocrack that sealafter decades of politecelibacymade his dick twitch like it had its own separate agenda)—

Wait.

Virginity.

At her age?

The Dean of Ashford Elite Academy. A woman who had to be in her late thirties at minimum. Possibly older. A former queen of Paradise who'd had every Main Legacy man of her generation panting after her.

A virgin?

That was... actually insane. And hot.

Stop it. He was repeating the same thing now at this point.

He shook his head, physically trying to dislodge the thought. He was getting away from the point here. Way, way off track. Focus.

The point was:

No matter howhornyshe was. No matter howhungry. No matter howstarved for touchor desperate for release after four years of being a Heavenchild puppet—

There is no way.

No fucking way the Dean should have reacted like that to just a kiss.

Think about it logically.

He'd walked into her office. A student. A charity case, as far as she knew. Someone she'd summoned to presumably punish for challenging the Prince of Paradise.

And he'd kissed her.

Just... leaned in and kissed the Dean of his academy.

The rational outcomes for that move should have been: Expulsion. Immediate, permanent, don't-let-the-door-hit-you-on-the-way-out expulsion.

Or a slap. A proper, full-armed, leave-a-handprintslap that would've sent him spinning.

Or security. Called in to drag him out by his collar while she screamed about assault and lawsuits and the end of his entire future.

Or all three. Slap, security, expulsion. In that order. Maybe arestraining orderthrown in for good measure.

That was thebest-casescenario for kissing the Dean without permission.

Now that he was thinking about it clearly, outside that office, away from her presence and her scent and those jade eyes that made his brain short-circuit—

It had beenreckless.

Monumentally reckless.

The kind of stupid, impulsive, thinking-with-his-dickdecision that got people destroyed in Paradise. The kind of move that should have ended with him expelled, blacklisted, and possibly facing criminal charges.

Instead?

She'd kissed him back.

Harder.

Hungrier.

Then he'd let push him against the desk, let her hands wander, let things escalate until clothes were halfway to the floor and reason was a distant, laughing memory.

And then—

"This is it for today."

His jaw tightened.

Bitch, what?

That's not how this works. You don't make out with a student, damn nearlet him have youon your desk, and then just... call time? Like it's a fucking therapy session? That'll be all for today, same time next week?

His plan—his actual, thought-out plan—had been to make an accidental move. A brush of hands. A lingering look. Something deniable, something that could be played off as a misunderstanding if it went sideways.

Not walking up to the most powerful woman in the academy andkissingher like he owned her.

That hadn't been the plan.

That had been... compulsion. Instinct. Somethingthat had grabbed him by the spine and made him move before his brain could catch up and scream what the fuck are you doing.

And it has worked?

She'd reciprocated. Met his hunger with her own. Let him push, let him take, let the whole thing spiral until—

It felt like one of those novels. The oneswhere every woman falls for the MCthe moment they meet, brainlessly throwingthemselves at himregardlessof logic orcircumstanceor basicself-preservation.

He'dhatedthose stories when he read them.

The convenience of it. The laziness. The way the female characters stopped being people and became prizes to be collected, obstacles to be conquered, holes to be filled.

Cheap, he'd always thought. Unrealistic. Boring.

But now?

Now that he was living it?

Here was the uncomfortable question:

If it were you—if you suddenly had beauties falling into your lap, throwing themselves at you, offering their bodies without you even having to try—would you say no?

Would you back off and go; nah, fuck off, I don't want to break that decades-old virginity, I don't want to bury myself in that gorgeous body, I don't want what you're offering?

Would you actually turn that down?

Phei wanted to say yes.

Wanted to believe he was better than that. More principled. Less... basic?

But he wasseventeen.

Seventeen.

And he'd just had the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen so far pressed against him, breathing hard, looking at him like he was the first rain after a decade of drought. Her lips swollen from his kisses. Her body trembling under his hands. Her voice—that cold, commanding voice that made grown men flinch—gone breathy and desperate and wanting.

Whatseventeen-year-oldin theirright mindwould say no to that?

What seventeen-year-old would stop andgo hmm, this seems suspicious, let me analyze the logical inconsistencies instead of enjoying the fact that a gorgeous older woman just let me feel her up?

None.

The answer was none. Like it or not!

Because teenagers were stupid. Hormonal. Driven by urges that made rational thought a distant memory the moment a beautiful woman looked at them with hunger in her eyes.

And Phei, for all his scheming and planning and carefulmanipulation—

Was still a teenager.

Still had that small still remaining lizard brain screamingYES YES YESwhile his logical mind whisperedwait, something's wrong here.

Guess which one was winning?

And you know what?

If you're judging him—fuck off.

You'd do the same thing.

Don't sit there on your high horse pretending you'd be different. Pretending you'd stop and question it. Pretending you'd push away a gorgeous, hungry, desperate woman because something felt slightly off.

Bullshit.

You'd take the winand figure out the weird stuff later, same as him.

So, save the judgment for someone who gives a damn.

But who cares.

Seriously.

Who. Cares.

Let's do a quick tally here:

Hot Dean who'd been a virgin for decades? Check.

Not expelled? Check.

Not arrested? Check.

Powerful ally who now wanted him in her bed? Check.

Still had all his girls waiting for him back at the fire pit? Check.

Life-threatening situation that somehow turned into a make-out session? Fucking check.

When you stacked the wins like that, what was there to complain about? What was there to analyze and overthink and pick apart?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

And what was wrong with a womantakingwhat she wanted?

Men did it all the time. Expressed their lustopenly, chasedwhoever caught their eye, took without asking. Society applauded them for it. Called them players. Studs. Legends.

So why should it be different for her?

Dravenna Ashfordhad seen something she wanted. And she'd taken it. Met his boldness with her own, his hunger with hers, hisrecklessnesswith arecklessnessthat matched.

They'd both beenhorny.

They'd bothwantedit.

End of story.

Phei shook his head and kept walking.

His life had become a fever dream written by ahorny godwithno sense of game balance, and honestly?

He was here for it.

Take the win, he told himself. Stop overthinking it.

He'd walked into that office expecting punishment. Expecting to fight for his survival against a woman who could destroy him with a word.

Instead?

He'd not only avoided disaster—he'd created a bond. An alliance. A connection with one of the most powerful women in Paradise, sealed with kisses and promises ofmoreand the unspoken understanding that this was just the beginning.

The Dean wasn't his enemy like the otherwise outcome would've been if he'd not been bold.

She was his.

Or she would be.

And that—that right there—was worth more than all the suspicion and overthinking in the world.

Something was off?

Sure.

Maybe.

Probably.

But that was a problem forfuture Phei. Present Phei had just leveled up in ways that couldn't be measured by any system, and he was going to enjoy the victory before he started picking it apart.

He was seventeen.

He'd just made out with amilfwho was also hisDeanwho was also avirginwho was also adragon.

If his life got any more insane, he'd have to startcharging admission.