Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 675

Chapter 675: NightFall

The bedroom smelled like sex, steak, and melted butter.

Ava stood in front of the full-length mirror, sliding into the dress she’d chosen like it was made for war.

Black mesh over black satin, sheer from collarbone to navel, then again from mid-thigh to the hem that barely skimmed the bottom curve of her ass.

The fabric clung to every lethal curve: heavy tits straining the mesh, nipples dark shadows beneath, waist cinched so tight it looked illegal, hips flaring into thighs that could crush a man’s skull and make him thank her for it.

Her long black hair fell in a straight, glossy waterfall down to the small of her back, ends brushing the dimples above her ass every time she moved.

She looked twenty-two, maybe twenty-three in the right light, but the way she smiled in the mirror was pure thirties: knowing, hungry, already three steps ahead of everyone in the room.

She caught my eyes in the reflection and grinned, sharp and young and free.

"Tonight I’m not Agent Ava," she said, voice low and thrilled. "Tonight I’m just Ava. Looking like twenty-something, reckless, and about to ruin every girl at that party by existing."

I pulled on black pants, black tee, sleeves tight around biceps still pumped from the beach, boots heavy enough to crack marble.

She turned, hair whipping like a black flag, and launched herself at me. Arms around my neck, tits crushed to my chest, mouth on mine, tasting like butter and sin.

"Drive fast," she whispered against my lips. "I want the wind to rip this dress off before we even get there."

Night had swallowed the beach whole. The second I opened the garage door the salt wind hit us like a slap. I fired up another jeep matte-black Jeep Trackhawk, 1,000 horsepower snarling awake.

Ava vaulted into the passenger seat before I could open the door for her, dress riding high enough to flash the fact she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

She threw her head back and laughed, wild and young and mine.

I punched it.

We shot out into the darkness, windows down, engine roaring like a demon.

Ava’s hair whipped behind her in a black storm, strands lashing my arm where she clung to it with both hands. The night artificial lights blurred into streaks of gold and red, bass from distant clubs thrumming through the frame.

She leaned over, tits spilling against my bicep, and screamed into the wind, pure joy, no mission, no orders, just alive.

I chuckled low, shifted into sixth, and let the jeep eat the road.

This was probably the first time she had so much fun in a single day. Life as an Agent did not have this kind of freedom, recklessness and doing whatever fuck you wanted.

I was going to make sure she enjoyed as much as she could as long as she’s with me.

Twenty minutes later we crested the hill and the mansion hit us like a punch to the chest.

Three stories of white stone and glass perched on the cliff edge, every window bleeding colored light: neon blue, blood red, acid green.

Cars lined the drive like a luxury dealership had vomited: G-Wagens, Lambos, 911s, a matte-pink Cybertruck someone had already puked on. At least two hundred people already here, maybe more.

Music thumped so hard the ground vibrated under the tires: deep, filthy bass you felt in your balls and clit at the same time. Cheers and screams spilled out every open door, bodies grinding on the front lawn, red cups glowing under black-lights.

The top floor was dim, windows dark except for the occasional flicker of movement: shadows too deliberate to be drunk kids. Off-limits.

Perfect.

Ava’s eyes went feral. "Fuck yes."

I rolled to a stop at the valet stand. Kid in a black vest took one look at the jeep, then at Ava stepping out: dress riding high, thighs gleaming, hair wild from the wind, tits barely contained, and nearly dropped the keys.

She didn’t wait. Grabbed my arm, nails digging in, and dragged me toward the chaos like a queen leading her king into battle.

The night swallowed us whole.

The doors gaped like the gates of a private inferno. The bass slammed into us first: brutal, obscene, a living pulse that punched lungs and made every cock in the room twitch.

Strobes carved the darkness into electric shards: cobalt knives, venom-green razors, freezing bodies mid-fuck, mid-suck, mid-scream.

The air was saturated: skunk weed, top-shelf tequila, coconut oil, dripping pussy, and the scorched-plastic burn of phones live-streaming to millions.

They saw me. Then they saw her.

Silence detonated like a kill-switch.

Two hundred throats choked at once. Red cups froze mid-air.

A blonde on the staircase mid-body-shot dropped the lime, eyes locked on Ava: black mesh shredded by wind and strobe, tits rising like weapons with every breath, abs carved under transparent fabric, thighs flexing like she could crush diamonds between them and make the dust beg for mercy.

Her hair lashed across her face in a black storm, lips curled in a half-smile that said I own every soul in this room and I haven’t even spoken yet.

"EROS!"

"BEACH KING!" he roared, voice shredding over the beat. "THE KING HAS FUCKING ARRIVED!"

"EROS! EROS! EROS!"

Ava let it ride for two seconds.

Then she moved.

The entire swarm froze mid-motion.

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