Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 199

Chapter 199: Unveiling an Altar

The old house held its breath. Sofia leaned against the familiar, scuffed leather sofa, chest heaving, limbs still trembling from the aftershocks I’d wrung from her with just my hands and mouth. My cum-coated fingers were proof.

But this? This was just the overture.

The air itself felt charged, thick with the scent of her release and the ghost of my childhood. Her eyes, wide and dark, tracked me like prey anticipating the final strike.

I didn’t touch her. Not yet. I stood back, letting my gaze devour her. Eyes traced the frantic heave of her breasts—black lace straining like a cage, nipples jutting like dark jewels against the fabric. Sweat beaded between them, rolling down her sternum to disappear into the lace valley.

Down the quivering plane of her stomach—muscles fluttering with each ragged breath—to the drenched scrap of lace clinging to her cunt. It wasn’t just wet; it was saturated, transparent, revealing everything: swollen folds dark with blood, the hard nub of her clit pulsing visibly beneath the silk.

Her inner thighs gleamed in the candlelight, slick with her own arousal, dripping in slow trails toward her knees. Innocent setting. Raw woman. The contrast was lightning in my veins.

"Look at you," I murmured, voice a low earthquake vibrating through the dust-choked air. "Flushed like a whore. Trembling like a virgin about to be deflowered. Already ruined and I haven’t even begun." My eyes locked onto the drowning lace between her legs.

"That little scrap of lace is the only thing holding you together. And it’s being devoured by your own greed." I took a step closer—slow, deliberate, the floorboards groaning under my weight. "Should I tear it off? Let your cunt breathe? Or make you beg me to rip it off while you watch yourself dissolve in my hands?"

She swallowed hard. A full-body tremor wracked her frame—breasts bounced, thighs clenched, lace stretched taut over her heat. "Peter... please."

"Please what?" I countered, circling her slow, like a wolf admiring wounded prey. My fingers brushed the back of her arm—feather-light, but she jerked like she’d been branded. "Please touch you? Run my hands over this dripping cunt until you scream? Please taste you—lap up this hunger until you forget your own name? Or please make you scream so loud the ghosts in this house wake up horny?"

Her breath hitched audibly. Hips shifted unconsciously—rolling, seeking, thighs rubbing together to ease the ache. "All of it," she whispered, words shredded, raw. "Please... all of it."

She whimpered—a broken, desperate sound. Her hands clenched at her sides, knuckles white. "Please..." Her voice cracked. "Please, Peter... ruin me."

I smiled—a slow, vicious curve of lips. "Good girl." My eyes dropped to the drenched lace between her thighs. "Now... show me how you beg with your body."

And Sofia obeyed.

Her hands slid down her stomach—trembling—to hook her thumbs in the lace waistband. She peeled it down, inch by torturous inch, revealing the slick, swollen folds beneath. Glistening pink flesh met the candlelight.

Clit—dark, engorged—throbbed visibly. She stepped out of the ruined lace, naked except for the bra.

Then she spread her legs—wide.

Offering.

Surrendering.

"Touch me," she sobbed. "Taste me. Fuck me. Make me forget everything but your name inside me."

The air crackled. The scent of her—musk, heat, wet satin—flooded my senses.

That was the cue. I sank to my knees before her—not grace, but descent. The floorboards groaned beneath me, cool wood biting into skin as my hands claimed the backs of her calves. Palms slid upward, thumbs pressing into the sensitive hollows behind her knees, feeling the tremors rippling through tendons.

Fingers gripped her outer thighs hard enough to bruise, thumbs hooking into the soaked lace at her hips.

No tearing. Slow. Torturous. The panties clung—silk suctioned to swollen, aching flesh. A soft, wet sound as I peeled them down, like skin tearing, exposing her completely. They pooled around her ankles, sodden lace shackles.

She stood exposed in the center of my childhood home. My breath caught—not just in admiration alone, but recognition. Perfectly smooth cunt, glistening under the dim light like spilled honey. Inner lips—dark, flushed, already parted—like a flower blooming in ruin. Clit: a prominent, glistening pearl, throbbing with every ragged breath she took.

The scent of her hit me — rich, musky, sweet, female — Sofia. Addictive. Intoxicating. A drug flooding my veins.

"Exquisite," I breathed—the warm gust making her flinch as if burned. "And all mine."

Not gentle. I flattened my tongue and licked—perineum to clit—one long, deliberate stroke. Her entire body jolted like live wire caught voltage. A sharp, raw cry tore from her throat. Her taste exploded—musky, sweet, intensely her—flooding my senses.

Slower. Harder. Painting broad, wet stripes over her most sensitive flesh. Her hands flew to my hair—tangling, pulling, roots screaming—holding on like she’d drown otherwise.

"Oh god... Peter... yes..." she moaned—voice high, thin, fraying at the edges. Her knees began to buckle —legs trembling, muscles failing.

"Right there...! Oh fuck, right there!"

"PETER!" She screamed, the sound echoing off the familiar walls. Her legs gave out completely. She collapsed forward, her weight suddenly heavy in my arms.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify