Peerless Perverted Actor Has a Celebrity Harem?!

Heaven and paradise were wonderful places, Park was sure.

Unfortunately, even heaven eventually had work on Monday!

For the better part of the last two weeks, his life had fallen into a routine so comfortable his body could probably follow it with his brain switched off and his dick still on duty.

He woke up either with Emmeline curled somewhere against him, a mouth on his throat and a thigh thrown over his hip like she’d claimed him in her sleep, or alone for however long it took her to wander back into his wing looking like she’d only left to steal food and come back for more.

Sometimes she came back with crumbs on her lips and nothing else on but sometimes she didn’t even bother with the food part.

Not so long a while ago she’d still been the girl who’d gone red just from him kissing her too long. Now she was the girl who woke him up by sliding down his chest, wrapping her mouth around his cock like she’d been studying the subject in secret, and looking up with that wicked little noble-girl smile that said she knew exactly what she was doing and wanted a grade.

For a virgin until a while back, she’d gotten dangerous fast.

First it had been shy but careful how she’d touch him like she was scared she’d break something expensive, Park would groan, or grab her hair, or tell her she was doing so fucking well, and something in her would snap into greed.

Now she knew how he liked it.

Slow at first and wet with her tongue circling the head of his cock while her hand worked the rest, those pretty eyes watching his face like his reactions were better than any lesson. Then deeper, messier blowjob a recently ruined girl gives when she realizes the boy she gave it up to makes the filthiest sounds when she takes him into her throat and stays there.

Park had taught her that one by accident.

He’d only said: "You don’t have to—"

Emmeline had looked at him, lips stretched, eyes watering a little, and done it anyway.

That was the night he learned she liked being good at filthy things.

They’d explored almost everything two nineteen-year-olds with a private wing and no self-control could think of; sometimes it was her on top, still shy the first time, then rolling her hips like she’d found religion. He’d fuck her from behind with one hand on her waist and the other covering her mouth while she came so hard her legs shook. They explored a few rsoikl sex adventures at first; it was against the window with the lights off at fisrt and the estate glowing underneath them while Emmeline bite his shoulder so she wouldn’t moan loud.

They fucked fucked on the floor because the bed was too far, in the shower until the water ran cold and she was laughing and swearing and still not telling him to stop.

But the risk sex was her new favorite sport:

They had quiet sex with Alexander somewhere in the same wing. Fast sex when they heard footsteps in the hall and she still wouldn’t let him pull out; she’d also sit in his lap on the couch with a blanket over them in the family gathering room knowing the family could walk in with Park still buried inside her while Emmeline pretended to scroll her phone and whispered, "Don’t you dare stop" while she fought her moans.

Once she’d gone down on him in the back of the Maybach with Quinn driving and the partition up, Park’s hand in her hair, trying not to look like a man about to die happily in traffic.

She’d wiped her mouth after, kissed him like nothing happened, and asked what he wanted for lunch.

Park had needed a minute.

Several minutes.

For a girl who’d been a virgin until a while back, she’d learned how to ruin him with terrifying speed.

She liked making him lose it and the way his voice broke... she liked when he got shameless and told her how tight she was, how wet, how pretty she looked taking him while he fucked her in public female bathroom on dates they went on with her friends.

Emmeline liked when Park flipped her over and used her until she was shaking and still pulling him closer.

And Park, being a recently reincarnated menace with no moral high ground left, let her.

Encouraged her, praised her and taught her worse.

Most mornings, though, Emmeline found some new way to put her mouth, her hands, or that newly confident little body on him until Park’s brain clocked out and his dick ran the schedule.

Park was starting to suspect they had taken the whole second chance at life thing and interpreted it as fuck like civilization ends Thursday,

They sometimes wasted whole hours talking garbage nobody should admit to out loud, until one of them remembered the rest of the species got dressed. Sometimes they cuddled... that happened and then they went back to fucking.

Mostly, though, they fucked.

A lot.

The two were greedy for reach other and they greedy-fucked she’d laugh into his mouth in their ruined sheets as she whispered:

"we’re going to prison for this and I packed snacks" and they went back to fucking; a lot, until the sheets looked like a confession and neither of them had the decency to look sorry.

There had been a few rest days scattered between the madness, mostly because even two ridiculously horny siblings eventually needed to acknowledge the existence of sleep, food and other responsibilities.

Park was starting to suspect he’d had taken the whole "second chance at life" thing and interpreted it as "fuck like civilization ends Thursday and the apocalypse still wants an encore." inside the house is full of politically important people, and getting caught would be both a disaster and kind of hot.

Still, eventually he would drag himself out of bed, changed into gym clothes and headed downstairs for his daily workout he’d never once missed, which would explain why his stamina was insane Emmeline would eventually tap out during sex.

Anyways, gym had become automatic; sometimes Alexander was already there or ometimes Park arrived first. The father and son spent two or three hours inside the same enormous private gym without exchanging anything beyond a morning greeting, a nod, or the occasional grunt when one of them needed the other to move something.

The Prime Minister had started watching him, though.

Not openly though...

...Alexander Bennett had far too much pride to stand there staring at his 19-year-old son and wondering when exactly the brat had developed the endurance of a small military unit, but Park caught the looks:

Especially whenever he finished a set that would have nearly killed him three weeks earlier, took a short break, drank some water, then went straight into another one like the bar had personally insulted his bloodline... while he’d visit the Foundry a few days too.

Perfect Crown was doing disgusting things to him.

Beautiful, disgusting, "please keep going I can take it" things.

Park had always been lean but now his body had started filling out properly:

His chest was broader and harder, the muscle were sitting naturally over his frame instead of looking like he’d spent six months trying to become somebody’s fitness influencer.

The lines beneath his chest ran cleanly toward his stomach, where the first two pairs of abs had properly appeared and the final pair was beginning to show whenever he stretched, flexed, or happened to stand under lighting that loved him.

Which, lately, seemed to be most lighting.

’Finally I have abs!’ He’d look at himself in the mirror and say.

His waist had stayed narrow, his lower stomach had tightened while the muscle along his sides had begun carving itself in, and that damned V-line dropping beneath the waistband of his pants had become deep enough that Park had caught himself staring at it in the mirror more than once, a little too interested, which was embarrassing and also extremely reasonable.

Fuck, those things had been hard to create even with Perfect Crown that shaped him.

Now they showed up like they’d been waiting in a lobby this whole time.

His legs were changing too into stronger thighs, defined calves and he had insane balance, posture.

But Park’s changed were nothing cartoonishly huge and Perfect Crown seemed completely uninterested in turning him into one of those men shaped like an expensive refrigerator.

Whatever bastard had designed the ability clearly preferred athletic, young and disgustingly proportional.

Basically, some divine being had looked at Park and decided ordinary handsome was a waste of available resources.

Perfect Crown, ladies and...

Well.

’Just ladies for this particular advertisement.’

Unfortunately, he was still neither a god nor an immortal.

They were getting there... but he was something of a demigod with his handsome face in account too.

The atmosphere at home had changed too these past two week!

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