Reverse Harem Novels & Stories

I could feel the blood soaking my back now. My dad saw me in the distance, his face twisting at the sight. He fought off two ancient ones from him, Larminiel sealing them right away. Stoic made his way towards me as a third ancient one joined my fight. I avoided most of their attacks, but I couldn't avoid them all. I was on the defensive the whole time unable to attack. Blood trickled down my arm, dripping from my finger down to the ground. I had small wounds all over, the biggest one being on my back. Haku and I were exhausted, we were beyond our limits.

They looked like they were trying to kiss but something was keeping them from doing so. It seemed ironic that Layla would be reading a romance novel when she seemed like the last person on earth who wanted to fall in love. It was also ironic that she was stuck in a harem for a man that seemed revolted by affection. Rebecca looked away. She went to rub her face to alleviate some of the burning, but she remembered she was wearing makeup just before she was about to mess up Yasmine’s hard work. She lowered her hand and clenched the dress’s fabric in her fists.

When I woke up, I realized I had fallen straight into one of those “no morals, proceed at your own risk” reverse-harem erotica novels. My latest research project, by the way. The basic premise goes like this: The male lead is Daniel Hord—the kind of ruthless, untouchable trust-fund prince who could buy half of the city before breakfast. The heroine is me, applying to be his live-in housekeeper. He discovers I look suspiciously like his first love, Wendy Gold, and instantly decides I’ll be her stand-in. He forces me into a relationship, locks me in his glass penthouse, and from that moment on…

Every slow drag of her hand, every bead of precum she smeared down his length, every tiny shudder that ran through him—he wanted it branded under my skin. Brianna’s other hand slid up under his shirt, raking nails lightly across his stomach. His abs contracted hard under her touch. A low, rough sound slipped out of him then, not quite a groan, more like a stifled curse, and I felt it land somewhere deep between my legs, hot and sudden and humiliating. I hated him for it. I hated her for it. I hated myself most of all.