Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 461

Chapter 461: Pussy in Cages (R-18)

The part of my brain screamed a useless warning before being drowned in a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated lust. This was no mere aromatic trigger; it was an opiate, a divine command my body was incapable of disobeying—a warfare that left me weaponless and willing.

His mouth began to move again, not with the hesitance of a lover, but with the absolute certainty of a god reacquainting himself with his creation... his mouth found the sliver of exposed skin between my breasts not by chance, but as a magnet finds its pole—inevitable, unstoppable.

He opened his mouth and breathed on it, a warm, damp exhalation of pure intent that made the skin bead with sweat and my breath hitch in a ragged, desperate gasp. My body jerked involuntarily, hips bucking off the mattress as if electrocuted.

"This body..." the word was a resonant frequency that vibrated through my chest, rattling my ribs. "Has been a prayer I’ve been waiting to answer."

He could see. Not with his eyes, but with some sense far beyond. He could see the constellations of my desire, the intricate network of nerves that lit up like galaxies under his gaze. He saw the frantic pulse hammering in my throat, the flush that bloomed across my chest like a violent, beautiful sunrise.

He saw my nipples, hardening into painful, pleading peaks against the lace of my bra. And he knew, with the certainty of a law he himself had written, that the sensitive, tremulous skin on the soft underswell of my left breast was the very heart of my nervous system.

He lowered his head, and I felt not the brush of his hair, but the displacement of air around an object of immense gravity—a black hole pulling me in. He pressed his open mouth against that exact spot. He didn’t kiss or lick.

He let a low, possessive growl resonate from his chest directly into my bloodstream. It wasn’t a vibration against my skin; it resonated within my bones, a seismic command that seized the marrow and shattered it.

My spine snapped into an arch, back bowing off the bed with such force that the headboard slammed against the wall, cracking the plaster in a spiderweb of fissures.

A sharp, broken cry was torn from my throat, a sound that didn’t feel like it belonged to me—raw, animalistic, echoing off the walls like a battle cry. My hands clawed at the sheets, ripping the fabric in frantic shreds as my body convulsed, thighs clenching and unclenching in violent spasms.

This was beyond pleasure. It was a violent, beautiful rewrite of my biology. A circuit completed, overloaded, exploding.

The synaptic connections of my past, my training, my very identity, short-circuited and incinerated in white-hot flashes behind my eyes.

"Eros!" I gasped, his name not a plea, but a naming of the god who was unmaking me—shredding me apart and forging me anew in his image.

He laughed then, a deep, ancient sound that seemed to originate from the earth’s core and echo in the hollows of my soul, shaking the bedframe until it groaned in protest. "I know, love. Now, so do you."

The remaining buttons of my shirt didn’t undo; they yielded to his proximity, as if the very fibers of the cotton ached to obey him—popping off in a rapid-fire burst, scattering across the room like shrapnel.

The fabric fell away in tatters, and his gaze was a physical touch, a brand of pure fire that seared my skin, leaving red welts in its wake. He saw everything—the quiver in my belly, the sheen of sweat on my skin—and he approved, his eyes glowing with predatory triumph.

He reached behind me, and with a simple, thoughtless flick of his fingers, the clasp of my bra dissolved—snapping apart with a metallic twang, the straps whipping against my shoulders like lashes.

The cool air was a shock, a meaningless detail against the radiating heat of his stare, but it made my exposed flesh erupt in goosebumps, nipples tightening to agonizing points.

His hands were no longer merely caressing; they were mapping his territory, conquering it with brutal efficiency.

His thumbs brushed the undersides of my breasts, digging in with unyielding pressure, and the loud, uninhibited moan that escaped me was raw, feral—a scream that tore my throat as my body thrashed beneath him, legs kicking wildly, heels drumming against the mattress.

He seized my wrists in one iron grip, pinning them above my head with a force that ground bone against bone, the bed creaking ominously under the strain. His mouth descended, closing over one straining nipple like a vice.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify