Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 119

Chapter 119: Show Me: Making Her Cum on Facetime 3 (R-18)

Her moans spilled out more freely now—raw and uneven, no longer polite, no longer restrained. Her thighs began to shake, and her hand on the counter slid as her body arched with need. The sounds of her wet pussy and her finger filled the stall and his phone two as he watched her pussy twitch in pleasure.

He enjoyed her like this...

Peter’s voice turned dangerous. A purr that stroked down her spine. "Tell me what you’re thinking about."

She didn’t answer right away. She was gasping now, chest rising in frantic rhythm, mouth opening like she was trying to form words but kept losing them.

"You," she finally breathed, voice cracking. "Your mouth... your hands... the way you grabbed my throat in this exact bathroom and told me I was yours."

Her eyes fluttered shut like the memory itself could make her come apart.

Peter leaned in so close to the camera, his voice was practically in her bloodstream.

"Say it again."

"I’m yours," she whispered, breathless, broken, beautiful.

And just like that, he owned her all over again.

His jaw flexed.

"I meant every word," he said, rougher now. "You are mine."

"Then say it again," she begged. "Please—tell me again."

"You’re mine, Isabella. No matter where you sleep. No matter whose name you fake-love. When I say come, you do. When I say beg, you crawl."

She cried out softly, the sound echoing in the tiled room.

"Peter—please—"

"Two fingers. Now. You don’t stop until I say."

She obeyed like she’d been waiting for that order her whole life.

He watched her fall apart, every command tightening her body closer to the edge.

Her breath was a mess—shaky, high-pitched, like each inhale had to fight through waves of pleasure she wasn’t ready for.

Peter stayed still, back pressed to the cool marble wall of the bathroom stall, eyes glued to the screen.

Her face was everything.

Red cheeks. Wet lips. That desperate gaze that flicked between his eyes and somewhere above the camera, like she couldn’t focus anymore. Her body was trembling so hard the camera kept shaking, and he loved it. God, he loved it.

"Slower," he said, and her head jerked like the word hit something deep in her spine.

"You’re going too fast, cariño. I said slow. Let it build. Let it burn."

Her lips quivered. "It’s... it’s too much already. I—"

He cut her off, voice like velvet and smoke. "No. Don’t rush it. Don’t ruin it. You don’t get to fall over the edge unless I say."

She whimpered. Actually whimpered.

The sound made his own control snap just a little. He adjusted his stance, one hand gripping the phone tight, the other curling into a fist by his side. No one was looking. No one knew what was happening right here—this slow, drawn-out destruction he was causing with nothing but his voice.

"Tell me what your fingers are doing," he said, breathless now. "I want to hear you say it."

Her voice broke into gasps as she tried to speak. "I—I’m tracing circles no my clit and inside my motherly wet pussy. Small ones. Like you taught me. Just around it... not—not too deep in it yet."

"Good," he growled. "Stay there. Tease yourself for me."

She nodded, chest rising fast, voice cracking between shaky breaths. "It’s like torture. I’m so wet. I can’t—"

"You can," he cut in, sharp and low. "You will. You’ll do every damn thing I say, because you love this. You love the way I break you with nothing but words."

She let out a sound that wasn’t even human—more like a sob trapped in a moan.

Her hand shook again, but she never pulled away. She followed. She obeyed. Because deep down, that’s what she wanted more than anything—to be owned like this. Commanded. Undone.

"Now," he whispered, voice thick, "I want you to press down. Just once. Feel it. Let your hips twitch. And then pull away again."

She did. He saw it in her eyes, in the way her mouth dropped open like she couldn’t breathe.

"God—" she choked out. "It’s so—it hurts."

"No," he murmured, staring into her soul. "That’s need, princesa. That ache? That burn? It’s mine. I built that in you. And I’ll decide when it explodes."

Her thighs trembled. She was falling apart right there, sitting in a locked bathroom stall, and Peter was feeding her every ounce of pleasure with a voice low enough to make the walls sweat.

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his tone until it was all hunger and heat.

"Now I want you to do it again. And again. Keep circling. Keep building. But never—never—go over the edge without me."

She nodded, barely. "Yes. Yes, Peter."

Her fingers moved faster now. He could see it in her face—tight with focus, lip caught between her teeth, body twitching like she was fighting her own instincts.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify