Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 147

Chapter 147: In Her Office (R-18)

The last period dragged worse than watching a three-hour documentary on dust. I kept checking my phone, caught somewhere between thinking about coffee with Valentina and spiraling over what Isabella’s cryptic-ass message that actually meant; Need to see you in my office after school. I have a fuck surprise for you.

Simple. Innocent-looking. But I knew better.

When the final bell finally blessed us with freedom, I made my way to Isabella’s AP Bio room. The science wing was already turning into a ghost town—students pouring out like inmates getting parole.

I knocked on the frame of her door. "Mrs. Rodriguez?"

"Come in. Close the door," her voice called back—low, steady, way too calm for how my heartbeat reacted.

I stepped inside—and nearly flatlined.

What the actual fuck...

She looked like every forbidden fantasy I’d ever buried under school stress and bad decisions. That usual teacher-professional thing she always had going on? Gone. Dead. Replaced by something straight outta a dream you’re not supposed to have.

She was in this tight black dress, hugging her like it was scared to let go. Technically modest enough to survive a principal’s glare—but it whispered sin. Like it knew exactly what it was doing and had no intention of apologizing.

The neckline dipped just enough to frame her cleavage in soft shadow, the kind of view that made gravity feel like a conspiracy. Her big breasts pushed against the fabric with quiet defiance, curves that could make a saint renegotiate his vows.

Below, the dress clung to her hips before spilling into thighs that were nothing short of decadent—smooth, toned, the kind of legs you imagine over your shoulders without meaning to.

Every shift of her weight was its own provocation, every step a calculated reminder that the body under that fabric could end conversations mid-sentence.

And yet, she carried it with that maddening balance—pure professional on the surface, but every line, every angle was a silent dare.

Her hair was down, falling over her shoulders in those soft, dark waves that begged to be touched. Her eyes were darker too, smokier, and her lips glistened like she knew damn well I’d be staring.

But it wasn’t the dress, or the hair, or even the dangerous gloss on her mouth that messed me up. It was the look.

The way she was staring at me—like I was dessert and she’d skipped dinner on purpose. Like she’d been waiting, plotting, craving.

"You look..." I started, then realized I had no clue how to finish that sentence. My brain shorted.

"Like I’ve been counting the minutes until I could see you again?" she offered, with a smile that was all heat and no mercy. "Because I have been."

She stepped closer, and the air between us practically lit on fire. This wasn’t the woman I’d met days ago—nervous wife, teacher mother, flustered, still fighting it.

This was Isabella unchained!

She radiated confidence now. Power. Desire with zero filter.

"Isabella," I said, my voice raspier than I meant it to be.

"I missed you," she whispered, stepping into my space until there was barely a breath between us. "I’ve been thinking about your hands on me. All. Day."

Damn. She wasn’t pretending. She wasn’t hiding. She’d let go of every chain that had held her back. And from the look in her eyes?

She wasn’t planning on stopping. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My body was frozen, locked between wanting to tear her dress off and just look at her a little longer.

Her hips, full and powerful, rolled ever so slightly as she moved—like she didn’t walk, she glided. And her legs? Long, strong, wrapped in those sheer stockings that caught the light when she shifted her stance.

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