Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 235

Chapter 235: Amanda Wells (R-18)

My palm glided up her ribs, counting each one under my touch, feeling the frantic flutter beneath her skin. When my thumb brushed the underside of her breast, barely grazing the sensitive curve, her knees buckled.

I held her steady, my strength effortless, my gaze locked on hers—dilated pupils, lips parted, completely lost.

"Eros," she gasped again, the name a broken confession on her lips.

I brought both hands to the single delicate tie at her hip. The silk knot seemed to whisper as my fingers worked it loose. With agonizing slowness, I peeled the negligee down over her hips, letting it glide over her thighs, pooling at her feet like liquid shadow.

The moments of losing her lingerie underneath were memories Amanda never remembered...

She stood before me, bathed in the golden light of Harold’s perfect suite—naked except for the glittering diamond on her finger.

Vulnerable. Exposed. Radiant.

My hands resumed their worshipful pilgrimage. They traced the elegant line of her collarbone, drifted down the smooth plane of her stomach, circled her navel. Each touch ignited a new wave of sensation, each caress drew another moan, each sigh of my name was a testament to her awakening.

My lips followed, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against her throat, the valley between her breasts, the soft skin of her abdomen. I tasted salt, arousal, and freedom.

When my hands finally cupped her breasts, weighing them, thumbs sweeping over the already hardened peaks, her cry was sharp, electric. She arched into my hands, her head falling back, offering herself completely.

"Eros! Yes... please..."

My gaze dropped to her left hand, resting on my shoulder. The diamond ring gleamed—a symbol of a cage, a life suffocating her. I lowered my head, never breaking eye contact. My lips brushed her knuckles, a ghost of touch.

Then, with deliberate purpose, I kissed the cool metal band of the ring. Not the finger, but the object itself. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Amanda stilled, her breath catching in a silent hitch. Her eyes widened, understanding flooding them as the implication crashed down. I pressed my lips firmly against the ring, a seal, a claim.

This is shed. This is mine.

I lifted my head slightly, my voice a low rumble that resonated through her, through the room, through the very foundations of her old world. "You wear his stone..." My fingers traced the circle of metal. "But you are mine now, Amanda."

She stared transfixed at the ring, then back at me. The fear, the guilt, the hesitation—all dissolved, burned away by the fire in my eyes and the truth of my touch. A slow, radiant smile spread across her face, pure possession and relief.

"Yours," she breathed, the word definitive, a surrender and a conquest. "Only yours."

Her hand, the one bearing the ring, slid from my shoulder to tangle in my hair, pulling me down for a kiss that was all fire, all future, all mine. The diamond caught the light as her fingers clenched, a forgotten relic under the suite’s unforgiving glow, belonging to a life that ended the moment my hands touched her skin.

***

Eros moved with the lethal patience of an apex predator dissecting prey, though Amanda felt less like a victim and more like a sacred unveiling. His hands, those instruments of otherworldly precision, slid from her waist upwards, thumbs brushing the sensitive wings of her shoulder blades.

She shuddered, a full-body ripple that made the diamond on her finger catch the light like a stray tear.

His mouth found the slender column of her neck, but not the pounding pulse point where lesser men might have bitten. No. His lips sealed over the suprasternal notch—that hollow dip at the base of her throat, an ancient acupuncture point linked straight to the core of feminine surrender.

He didn’t kiss; he inhaled. A slow, deep pull of air that felt like he was drawing the very tension from her bones. Her moan was thick, liquid—a sound pulled from depths she hadn’t known existed.

"E-Eros..." It was a plea, a benediction, a broken sound.

His hands mapped her with terrifying intimacy. Palms flat, they glided over the sharp slopes of her collarbones—so prominent, so fragile under his touch. His thumbs traced the delicate chain of muscle along her upper chest, millimeters below the swell of her breasts, skirting the forbidden territory with maddening deliberation.

His hands were everywhere except where she ached most. One slid possessively around her waist, anchoring her. The other traced the intricate line of her ribcage, each bump a new note in the symphony he was composing.

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