Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 197

Chapter 197: Alone with Sofia

"I’m necessary. There’s a difference."

"I should go."

"But you won’t."

"How do you know?"

"Because you wore perfume on your inner thighs. Because your underwear finally matches your bra. Because you told Jack you were studying with Ashley—but Ashley’s in Cabo right now."

Her face flushed nuclear. "How could you possibly—"

"Know? Because I pay attention. To everything. Like how you cross your legs tighter when you’re aroused. Like how you’ve been pressing your thighs together since I walked in. Like how you keep licking your lips imagining what I taste like."

"Stop."

"Make me."

She stood so abruptly the chair scraped, eyes flashing. For a second I thought she’d storm out. Then she grabbed her purse and said, loud enough for the barista to choke on his oat milk:

"You’re right. We should study at your place. Better resources."

Game on.

Outside, the evening air hit like a cold shower. Sofia walked beside me, careful to maintain just enough distance to pretend she wasn’t already mine, but her stride matched mine anyway.

"For the record," she said quietly, "I didn’t wear perfume there."

"I know. But you thought about it."

Her head snapped, eyes sharp. "How do you do that? Just... know things?"

"Same way I knew Luna only needed exactly three fingers, curled just right, while my tongue spelled my name on her clit."

She stumbled. I caught her elbow like a gentleman, steadying her like I hadn’t just detonated a bomb in her head. The contact hit her like live wires.

"You can’t just say things like that."

"Why not? Because it makes you wet in public? Because now you’re imagining what my fingers feel like compared to Jack’s half-assed dick fumbling?"

"Please..."

"Please what? Stop? Keep going? Tell you how I’m going to ruin you so completely you’ll forget your boyfriend’s name mid-scream?"

We reached her car. I opened the door for her, all chivalry laced with threat. She slid in, dress riding up high enough to flash thighs that had been freshly waxed.

She groomed for this. A peace treaty disguised as lingerie. She dressed for war, wrapped in satin surrender.

I got behind the wheel, let the silence stalk her. She cracked first.

"I love Jack."

"No. You love the marketing campaign of Jack. Quarterback, golden boy, white-picket future—all neat little lies you can frame on Instagram. And good enough for your parents who expect you to be with someone in the same league as you."

"That’s not—"

"When’s the last time he made you cum?"

She froze.

"When’s the last time he tried?"

More silence.

"My apologies. Three whole pumps. You must be ravaged."

The house loomed ahead. The old house. The one Mom refused to sell because it ’held too many memories.’ Empty for years, patient, waiting. Not even Madison—my queen, my chosen—had crossed this threshold in sin.

This house raised me, starved me, taught me hunger. Tonight it would witness a new lesson: what happens when hunger finally eats. Jack Morrison’s girlfriend would be the first. His perfect, polished girlfriend broken open in the very place that made me. This house knew every secret of my childhood—tonight it would learn the sweetest one of all.

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