Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 656

Chapter 656: Salt, Skin, and Sinful (r-18)

The sun hung low and golden over the Pacific, a molten coin dripping fire across the waves, turning every crest into liquid amber. The beach thrummed—salt wind whipping, gulls screaming overhead, the rhythmic crash of breakers pounding sand like a lover’s heartbeat.

The beach stretched endless under a sky bleached white-hot, sun a relentless lover pouring gold across every curve of sand and skin. I’d promised Ava a date—her exact words after the mansion: "Take me somewhere the only thing bleeding is my bikini tan lines."

So here we were, private cove south of the city, no paparazzi, no corpses, just salt wind, turquoise water, and the kind of heat that made clothes feel like crimes.

I stepped from the Jeep shirtless, board shorts riding low on hips that could carve marble.

Ava unfolded from the passenger side like liquid sin. Her bikini was a dare—black micro-triangles tied with strings that begged pulling.

Her bikini was a scandal—black scraps of fabric, barely legal, clinging to curves honed by blood and blades.

The bra cupped her tits like a lover’s hands, full DDs straining the ties. The top barely contained her full, high tits, the fabric stretched taut, nipples stiff peaks pressing through, dark areolas ghosting beneath like secrets.

Her torso tapered to a waist I could span with both hands.

Her abs rippled, a six-pack carved deep, sweat and saltwater glistening in every valley, trailing down to the panties—a thong so low it was more suggestion than clothing.

The fabric rode her hips, digging into the flare, her ass two perfect globes bouncing with each step, toned yet juicy, dimples winking, the string disappearing between cheeks that could crack walnuts.

The thong bottom a whisper of cloth riding low, molding to the plump, sculpted mound between her thighs, lips outlined thick and obscene, the string vanishing between round, toned ass cheeks that bounced with each step—firm yet juicy, dimples winking, a faint sheen of sweat tracing the cleft.

The front triangle molded to her fat, plump pussy, lips outlined thick and obscene, cameltoe a wet invitation that pulsed with her strut.

Her thighs were weapons—muscle corded, skin bronzed, a faint scar slicing one like a love bite from war.

Her calves flexed, ankles delicate but deadly, toes painted crimson sinking into sand. Her hair whipped wild, raven strands sticking to sweat-slick neck, collarbones sharp enough to cut glass, lips parted in a giggle that was pure sex, tongue teasing teeth.

I stood at the shoreline, shirtless, board shorts slung low on carved hips, the fabric clinging to thighs that could crush steel.

Sun sweat beaded on my skin, rolling down the ridges of abs that looked etched by divine chisel, each droplet catching light like diamonds on sin. From the tips of my toes—perfect, arched, dusted with sand—to the tousled crown of hair whipping in the breeze, every inch screamed godhood. Not the pious kind.

The kind that made knees weak, panties drop, and hearts stutter. Level 11 2000 charm stats pulsed beneath the surface, an aura of raw lust radiating, thick as the humidity, bending the air around me into a haze of want.

Women froze mid-step, phones slipping from fingers, their lips parting in silent gasps, eyes devouring the V of my pelvis disappearing into shorts, the bulge there heavy, promising ruin. Men averted gazes, sensing an apex, knowing they were prey in my shadow.

Ava strode beside me, a predator goddess in her own right, and fuck, the beach burned for her too.

"Gods, Eros," she purred, voice husky, salt-kissed, "you’re making virgins faint and wives cheat just standing there." She pressed closer, tit brushing my arm, nipple hard as bullet, heat searing through me.

"That dick print in your shorts? Criminal. Gonna need a surfboard to hide the bodies you’re dropping."

"You’re a literal walking wet dream. Every chick here’s creaming her bikini bottoms just breathing your air."

I grinned slow, letting charm leak—air thickening, her breath hitching, her thighs rubbing subtle. "And you, love? You’re a goddess carved from pure temptation. That body’s a sin I’d confess to daily."

My hand slid low, fingers grazing the curve of her ass—flesh yielding soft then snapping firm, a peach begging bite. "Date’s on. Let’s make the beach jealous."

The cabana’s linen drapes fluttered like teasing fingers, framing our private slice of paradise. The blanket was a canvas of indulgence: a wicker basket overflowing with mango slices glistening like molten gold, pineapple spears dripping sticky-sweet nectar, chilled shrimp curled in pink spirals, their tails flicking with ocean brine, and a cracked coconut spilling creamy milk into a silver bowl.

Rosé chilled in an ice bucket, beads of condensation racing down the bottle like sweat on a lover’s spine. The sun baked everything—sand, skin, desire—into a haze of heat and want.

Ava lounged on her side, one leg bent, hip cocked high, ass a perfect heart of toned muscle and plush curve, the black thong riding so deep the string vanished between cheeks that bounced with every subtle shift.

The bikini top strained, her full tits spilling slightly at the edges, nipples stiff peaks pressing fabric, dark areolas ghosting like forbidden promises.

Her abs rippled, sweat tracing every ridge, pooling in her navel before dripping to the plump mound molded by her panties, lips outlined thick and obscene, a faint wet patch darkening the cloth.

"Sweet," she moaned, "but not as sweet as what I’m craving later."

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