Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 664

Chapter 664: Living Room Carnage (r-18)

I hooked my fingers around her left ankle mid-ride, grip locking like iron around slick, trembling skin, and yanked her leg high in one savage pull.

Her knee bent sharp, thigh quivering uncontrollably as I forced her foot over my shoulder and slammed it against the sofa backrest. The leather groaned under the impact, a deep, wet creak vibrating through the frame.

Cool air rushed between her spread thighs, brushing her exposed pussy—lips already swollen and parted, inner folds glistening deep pink under the shifting neon, slick cream coating every crease.

A thick drop of her arousal broke free, trailing slow and hot down the inside of her thigh before falling onto my chest.

Both hands clamped her waist, fingers sinking deep into soft, yielding flesh, nails carving angry red crescents that welled tiny beads of blood under the colored lights.

I held her suspended—ass lifted, pussy stretched impossibly wide around my buried cock, inner walls clamped in a scorching, pulsing vise, heat pouring off her like a furnace. The scent of her—raw musk, salt, and slick cream—filled my lungs until I could taste her on every breath.

Then I made it happen.

My cock swelled inside her—growing thicker, longer, veins bulging like hot steel cables, the flared head widening until it forced her entrance to burn white at the edges. She felt every impossible inch of the expansion, her walls stretching to their absolute limit, yielding in fiery, reluctant pulses.

"EEEEEEEE—!" A single, piercing scream tore from her throat, raw and shaking, echoing off the glass walls.

I gave her no time to adjust.

My hips snapped upward—brutal, relentless pistoning, driving my now-monstrous shaft into her with punishing force. Her ass crashed against my thighs on every downstroke, cheeks rippling in violent waves, skin blooming deeper crimson with each impact.

Her pussy made obscene, wet sounds around me—thick, creamy squelches as I pulled back, then sharp, gushing splashes when I slammed home.

From this angle everything was exposed, mercilessly visible: My cock—glistening with her cream, veins throbbing angrily, head flared wide and purple-red—stretching her entrance so thin the rim looked painted on.

On every withdrawal her pussy clung desperately, inner lips dragging outward in slick pink rings, hole gaping open for a heartbeat—inner walls fluttering, desperate, dripping thick strands of arousal that stretched and snapped before falling hot across my stomach.

Then I drove back in, burying myself to the root, her lips sealing tight around my base, juices forced out in pressurized arcs that sprayed across the leather and my thighs.

Her raised leg shook violently beside my head—calf flexed hard, muscles twitching, toes curled tight, heel grinding into the sofa back as she fought for leverage. Her breasts bounced wildly with every thrust, heavy and slick with sweat, nipples dark and stiff, tracing frantic arcs in the air.

I tightened my grip on her waist, bruising deeper, and forced her down to meet every upward slam, controlling the rhythm completely—lifting her slightly on the withdrawal, then yanking her down as I surged up, spearing her so deep her whole body jerked.

The sofa creaked and shifted beneath us, seams straining, cushions sinking into the growing pool of her release.

Her cries never broke—high, frantic, breathless "Eeee—! Eeee—!"—shrill enough to cut glass, vibrating through my bones with every punishing stroke. Sweat flew from her skin, catching the neon in shimmering droplets.

Again my cock swelled—impossibly larger, forcing another raw stretch inside her. Her walls spasmed in protest and surrender, clamping down in rhythmic, milking waves, trying to take the new girth.

Juices poured out around the seal, thick and creamy, coating my shaft, running in rivers down my balls, soaking everything beneath us.

The view was hypnotic, obscene: Withdrawal—slow, deliberate pull—shaft emerging inch by glistening inch, coated in frothy white, her entrance gaping wider than ever, inner pink glistening and pulsing.

Then the slam—full-length drive—cock vanishing completely, her lips stretched to breaking, juices exploding outward in hot, messy sprays.

Over and over. Harder. Faster.

The leather split along a seam with a sharp rip, cushions drowning deeper in the flood of her arousal. The air was nothing but heat, salt, and the overwhelming scent of her ruined body taking everything I gave.

My cock swelled again—impossible, monstrous, veins throbbing like molten steel, the flared head widening until it forced her entrance to burn raw. She felt every ruthless pulse of growth, her inner walls stretching to their breaking point, scorching heat clamping down in desperate, fluttering surrender.

Second wave: The clench deepened, inner pink rippling in visible waves, squeezing along every bulging vein. Her raised thigh quivered harder, muscles locking tight against my face. Hotter floods poured out, soaking my pelvis, running in slick rivers over the ruined leather.

Her cries climbed—"Eeee—! Eeee—!"—higher, breathless, edged with raw desperation.

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