Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 341

Chapter 341: Temptation at a Chasm of Control.

A scrap of sinful black against the pale glow, delicate yet damning, clinging to the lush curve of her ass like a confession etched in shadow.

The sight hit me like a physical blow—a sledgehammer strike straight to my solar plexus, detonating southward, hardening me instantly against the pajama’s not-so-helpful restraint. It was unintentional, innocent in her quest for warmth, but the effect was devastating, catastrophic.

Smooth, cool skin met the fever-flayed surface of my hip where she pressed—a jolt of pure voltage, undiluted sensation that heated my already overloaded nerve endings. Every synapse fired at once, white-hot and desperate.

A low sound rumbled in my chest—not quite a chuckle, not quite a groan, but something raw and ragged, thick with the sound of shredding restraint. I wrapped my free arm around her, my hand branding itself to the bare skin of her lower back, my fingertips deliberately hovering just above the dangerous dip of her spine.

Millimeters.

That’s all that separated touch from the forbidden territory of that lace. A chasm of control.

The skin beneath my thumb was impossibly smooth, warm silk stretched taut over firm muscle. My thumb traced a slow, unconscious circle there, feeling her shiver subtly in response—a tremor that vibrated straight up my arm, sending another tsunami of molten heat crashing through me, scorching every rational thought.

My gaze was shackled to the revealed curve, the shadowed hollow beneath the lace. Trapped. Enthralled. My body screamed with primal urges—a symphony of need roaring in my blood. To slide my hand lower. To cup that perfect, offering flesh. To feel the trapped heat of her through that whisper-thin barrier. To trace the precise, scalloped edge of the lace with the tip of my tongue.

To mark that smooth skin as mine, permanently.

The image flashed—vivid, searing, undeniable: bending her over right here, Madison sleeping beside us, a witness to my claiming. Taking that sinful view, making her gasp my name into the quiet, watching dark. The sheer, visceral fantasy was a wave of pure, animal lust that clawed at my insides, razor-sharp talons raking my self-control.

The amplified hunger from my transformation wasn’t just roaring; it was howling for satisfaction, a starving beast demanding release.

But even as the inferno raged, cold reason—fierce, absolute, protective—slammed down like an iron door. An ice wall.

This is Charlotte.

The thought cut through the lust like a knife through smoke. Vulnerable. Seeking safety. Trusting me. Not prey. Not conquest.

The thought of violating that trust, of rushing her when she’d only sought comfort, twisted something cold and jagged deep in my gut. Taking her now—however much that bare skin made my pulse hammer against my ribs like a trapped bird, however much the lace whispered forbidden secrets in the moonlight—it would be a betrayal. An annihilation. Even if she wanted

A different kind of sin. The kind that shattered foundations. The kind that poisoned everything I was desperately trying to build. Not just physically, but emotionally. Morally.

My hand stayed anchored. Firmly. Deliberately. On the safe, untrespassed plane of her lower back. A monument to willpower. A testament to the war raging inside. Proof that sometimes, the only victory is holding back the flood. The only conquest is restraint itself.

Billionaire CEO on one side. Trust fund princess on the other, barely covered and radiating innocent heat like trapped sunlight. And me, teetering on the knife-edge of damnation, the ache in my boxers a constant, burning brand of temptation.

Insane. Sacred. Utterly forbidden... for now.

The respect felt like consecration, a vow stronger than possession. ’Let her come to me. Let it be her choice.’ The thought was a plunge into icy water, steadying me even as the image of that bare, sinful curve burned itself into my retinas—a permanent brand.

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