Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 84

Chapter 84: My Liberating Cock (R-18)

"Nnnh—" The sound left her lips unfiltered—soft, desperate, and completely involuntary.

"Eyes forward," I said. "This is what you look like when someone sees and treat you like you deserve to."

She swallowed hard. Her lips were quivering. Her chest—heaving like she’d run a marathon.

And then—

"Ahh—ahhh... Peter..."

That moan was raw. Dragged from somewhere deep. It cut through the steam like lightning and hit me straight in the gut. I growled into her neck and slid my hand slowly up her inner thigh, grazing the edge of where she needed me most. Her breath hitched hard.

"Ah! F-fuck..."

Her hands reached for the vanity, grabbing the marble like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her nails scratched the surface. Her reflection in the mirror was flushed. Shaking. Unraveling.

I kissed her shoulder, trailed my tongue along the curve of her neck, and bit—gentle, claiming.

"Hnnhh—ahhh!"

That moan was higher. Sharp. Her head tilted back, her body pressing harder into me.

"You like that?" I whispered, watching her reflection closely. "You like the way I undress you like a gift I’ve been waiting my whole life to open?"

Her breath caught. Her moan came out broken— "Y-yes... yes, God—yes..."

And the mirror didn’t lie just like her voice of need.

She looked wrecked in the most beautiful way—hair dripping down her back, eyes glassy, lips parted with a constant, shaky inhale. Her breasts rose and fell, nipples already stiff from steam and tension. My hands slid up her sides, spreading over her ribs before cupping her chest.

She gasped. Then—

"Ahhh—nnh! Oh—"

Her back arched, pushing into my palms like her body couldn’t take the wait anymore. My thumbs rolled over her nipples, slow, firm, teasing circles. I didn’t rush it.

"Mmmnhh—! Aaahh... oh f-fuck..."

That was it. That was the sound of a woman breaking open. Her hips started to grind backward into me on instinct, hungry and unsure.

"You hear yourself?" I whispered into her ear, hands still working her like I was sculpting pleasure out of every nerve. "That’s the sound of your body remembering what it’s like to be touched. Like it matters. Like you matter."

She whimpered—louder this time. Raw. Vulnerable. "P-Peter, I can’t—! I’m gonna—ahhh!"

I dragged one hand slowly down the slope of her stomach, pausing just above her pussy. My fingers barely brushed the inside of her thigh. She jolted like I’d zapped her. At the same time my pant and boxer disappeared so fast than she could follow.

"You can," I murmured. "You will. You’ll fall apart right here, in front of yourself. And you’ll watch it happen."

"Ahhh—hnnnhh—ohmygod..." Her voice was higher now, breathier. Her legs were shaking like she was about to drop.

She pressed her forehead against the mirror, panting against the glass, fogging it again. A single droplet ran down from where her skin touched it—sweat or steam, I couldn’t tell.

I leaned in tighter behind her, grinding my hard cock slow into her asscrack so she could feel what she was doing to me. And fuck, she did.

"Mmmnhh—Peter—please... I need—" Her words were full of static. Desperate. Her ass crack cracked even wider open as she felt my impossibly huge penis invading her cracked region slowly grazing her wet treasure cave.

I growled into her neck again, dragging my teeth down to her collarbone, her she held me in her crack to give me a good squeeze with her great ass, my hand slid even lower now—still not touching her fully, just letting the promise of contact drive her mad.

"Say it," I ordered. "Beg for it."

She gasped. Voice shaking. "I need it—I need you, Peter—please touch me, please—ahhh—please—"

And fuck me—she begged like she meant every syllable.

Her reflection... she was a mess of skin and wet hair and lust and surrender. Her body had stopped pretending. Her soul had stopped pretending. She was ready.

And I wasn’t gonna make her wait much longer. I spun her gently, backing her into the vanity until the cool marble met the heat of her skin. Her breath hitched, her legs unsteady, and for a second she just stared up at me—lips parted, chest rising, eyes wide like she wasn’t sure this was still real.

Like maybe she thought she’d imagined it all.

I cupped her face. Slow. Soft. Thumb brushing the water from her cheek like it was holy. Then I leaned in and kissed her—not rough, not rushed—but deep and slow and mine.

She whimpered into my mouth.

"Mmh—Peter..."

Her hands gripped my shoulders like she was drowning, her fingers trembling as they tried to hold on.

"I’ve got you," I breathed against her lips. "All the way."

Then I lifted her.

One arm under her thighs, one hand cradling her back as I carried her to the shower wall. Water poured down around us, drenching her again like baptism, like cleansing before the storm. The tiles were slick, the air thick with heat and need, and her body? Fuck—it molded into me like we’d done this a thousand times in every lifetime we ever lived.

I pressed her back to the warm wall, her legs wrapped around my waist. My body locked against hers.

Her eyes met mine—and there it was.

That complete, desperate surrender.

"Are you sure?" I whispered, voice low, breath heavy.

She nodded—quick, frantic—then said it out loud, because she needed me to hear it.

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