From Goblin Slave To Giga-Daddy: A Goblin's Guide to Getting a Harem-Chapter 44: Shivering Heart!

She hadn’t expected this. Not one bit.

Those hands of his, damn, those hands.

Magic.

Bliss.

Like sinking into warm honey and drifting off into some sinfully perfect heaven.

No, no—hell no—it couldn’t just end like this.

"W-Wait! D-don’t go!"

She shot upright, hair a little tousled, voice barely catching up to her racing heart.

"But Rae massage bad. Madame no like. So... Rae go away."

He was already halfway through the tent flap, muscles flexing, eyes dropping.

"Th-that’s... that’s not what I meant."

His head snapped around—fast, sharp, hopeful.

"So... madame like it dhen?"

"Ah... well..." Her voice cracked just a little. Her cheeks flared pink. "Yes... I liked it."

She bit her lip, glancing away, but it was too late.

Rae lit up like a firework, eyes wide, hopping like an overjoyed child who’d just won something very adult.

"Yesshh! Madame like me! Madame like my hands!"

He was bouncing—literally—his whole body moving in sync with something else that was definitely celebrating.

At some point during that heavenly massage, he’d let the beast out. Unleashed. Uncaged.

And now it was there—thick, throbbing, jumping like a possessed spring, barely contained in his pants as he bounced with glee.

Hearing his words—innocent on the surface, but laced with something dangerously suggestive—Lyra glanced back.

"Don’t speak like—oohhh, my god..."

Her breath hitched. Her eyes locked onto it—that massive, green, pulsing thing between his legs.

Veins, ridges, and those wicked little thorns circling it like a crown of sin.

It wasn’t just big—it looked hungry. Like it wanted her. To fill her. To wreck her.

A hot shiver danced down her spine, and somewhere deep inside, something clenched. She jerked her gaze away, ears burning.

"Rae come back domorrow for more massaging. Rae will massage upper bodhy next, okay."

She couldn’t look at him. Not with that image still scorched into her mind. She nodded stiffly, like a guilty schoolgirl caught doing something filthy.

"O-okay..."

"Rae need more potions."

"I’ll get them... from someone."

She mumbled, already thinking about Bryce. But dammit—they needed those potions.

They were essential for survival, not... not for steamy, toe-curling massages.

If the others found out she was draining the supply just to get her thighs kneaded and her brain melted, it would be a disaster.

Shit! She clenched her jaw. She’d just started to enjoy it. Really enjoy it.

Her eyes drifted back to the dwindling stash. Only four potions left.

Not nearly enough.

And she knew—knew in her bones—that if Rae started and couldn’t finish, if the session got cut short... she’d be left panting, begging, and utterly unsatisfied.

No. Half-massages wouldn’t cut it anymore.

I’ll find a way.

She nodded to herself, firm with false confidence, and looked up.

Only to be greeted by the sight of Rae standing right there, lazily stretching, arms over his head like he didn’t have a hulking, green beast swinging freely beneath that flimsy loincloth.

How the fuck does he even have those...

Her gaze locked onto it. Eye level. Throbbing. Heavy. The head peeked out, dark and glossy, twitching like it could smell weakness. Her weakness.

She swallowed hard and wrenched her eyes away, heat pooling deep in her belly.

It didn’t just look hungry—it looked starved. Like a panting predator about to pounce.

’Bryce’s is definitely not that big... I—I need to check. For comparison.’

She let out a shaky breath, hand instinctively resting over her chest like it could calm her racing heart.

"By dhe bay. Rae bants anodher adbance for massage tomorrow."

Rae said, looking down at her with a straight face that did nothing to hide the mischief in his tone,

"Wh-what? What do you want?"

Her voice cracked. The little gremlin was getting bold—too bold—but he wasn’t wrong.

She was the one addicted.

Hooked.

And there was no other supplier.

She couldn’t bargain when he was the only damn dealer of pleasure in this godforsaken world.

She forced herself to meet his eyes. Just his eyes. She would not look down. She would not cave.

"Anything?"

He tilted his head, all wide-eyed innocence, if you ignored the monster twitching beneath his loincloth and the gleam in his eye that screamed trouble.

Lyra knew better now.

That wasn’t the look of a sweet boy.

That was the look of a deviant wrapped in puppy skin.

"N-name it."

She managed to say it, barely. Half of her braced for something filthy.

The other half? The guilty half?

It clutched at her chest like it could squeeze the sin out of her.

But what could she do? She was part succubi. It was basically in her blood to crave, to want, to burn.

His eyes dropped—slow, deliberate—and locked onto her lips. Her soft, plush lips. She licked them without thinking, just to wet them. Reflex, maybe. Or instinct.

But then it clicked.

’Oh my god. Don’t tell me—!’

Her breath hitched. Her gaze dropped before she could stop herself, and there it was again—his dong, throbbing harder now, like it heard her thoughts and approved.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, heat rushing up her neck. She turned away, unable to withstand that hungry, knowing gaze.

"Domorrow, Rae will name it domorrow, Madame."

He smiled—cheeky little devil—and gave a playful wave.

"Rae going now. Bye~"

He spun on his heel, unzipped the tent flap. The cold wind licked at her bare arms, and the rain, heavy and rhythmic, splashed in the distance like a slow, teasing drumbeat.

He stood there for a second, back turned, hair damp from the mist, staring into the storm like some wandering sage.

But sages didn’t leave women breathless.

Sages didn’t stir heat in places untouched.

No.

Rae was something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

He glanced back over his shoulder, rain catching in his lashes.

"Flap lock, okay? be safe, madame."

Her eyes widened. That tone—gentle, sincere, real. Not teasing. Not horny. Just... warm. Someone wishing her safety like it mattered.

Her throat tightened. The last time she’d heard those words, they came from her mother’s lips.

Not even Bryce had said that to her—not because he didn’t love her, but because he believed she didn’t need protection. She was strong. Capable. A fighter.

But right now, she wasn’t that warrior.

She was just a girl. A simple girl. With too many feelings crammed into one heart and not enough space to hold them all.

She gave the smallest nod.

"I will..."

He grinned, gave her a sharp little salute—so casual, so him—and then he was gone.

Just like that.

Out into the rain, leaving nothing but a cold draft and the echo of his presence behind.

And now she was alone.

Alone with the ghost of his hands on her thighs.

The phantom weight of his fingers kneading her like she was something precious.

The heavy heat pulsing between her legs, aching from being teased and left wanting.

His voice.

That look.

Those wild, hungry eyes.

And that dong—huge, veiny, threatening to break rules and ruin her in the best possible way.

She swallowed hard, pressing her thighs together.

This... this wasn’t just a distraction.

This was going to be a problem.

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