Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 703

Chapter 703: Midnight Brings Confessions

The room was dark—the kind of dark that came at 2:47 AM when even LA’s light pollution couldn’t penetrate blackout curtains that cost more than my old wardrobe.

Madison slept beside me, one arm draped across my chest, her bare skin warm and soft against mine, breathing deep and even with the peaceful unconsciousness of someone who’d had three glasses of wine and knew she was safe.

Her thigh was slung over my hip, the heat of her pussy pressed lightly against my side through the thin sheet, a lazy, possessive claim even in sleep.

I wasn’t asleep. Hadn’t been for the last hour. Just lay there in the dark, processing the weight of normalcy from dinner—the arguments, the laughter, Mom’s threat to abandon us for reality TV if we didn’t stop being dramatic.

The family chaos that felt more valuable than every supernatural ability I’d collected. My cock still half-hard from the memory of Jasmine’s taste on the balcony, her broken moans echoing in my skull like a filthy lullaby.

The door opened. Silent. Careful.

The stealth that came from years of sneaking past a light-sleeping mother who worked night shifts and had developed superhuman hearing for the sound of teenagers doing things they weren’t supposed to.

The faint creak of the hinge was a whisper of sin in the quiet.

I didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

I just watched through barely-open eyes as a silhouette slipped inside, closed the door with a soft click that sounded loud in the silence, like the snap of a lock on a cage she was walking into willingly.

Jasmine.

Of course it was Jasmine.

She stood there for a moment—frozen, probably letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, probably questioning every decision that had led her to sneaking into her nephew’s bedroom at three in the morning while his girlfriend slept beside him and her sister slept down the hall.

Her silhouette trembled slightly, the oversized t-shirt clinging to her curves in the faint moonlight, nipples hard and visible through the fabric, thighs pressed together like she was fighting the ache between them.

Smart people would’ve turned around. Would’ve gone back to the guest room and pretended this impulse never happened.

Jasmine had always been smart. But smart people did stupid things when desire stopped being theoretical and became something that kept them awake at night, counting heartbeats, wondering what if—wondering how her nephew’s tongue would feel buried inside her again, how his cock would stretch her, fill her, breed her.

"I know you’re awake," she whispered, voice barely audible over Madison’s breathing, husky with need and shame.

I opened my eyes fully. Let her see me seeing her. "You should go back to your room."

"I know."

She didn’t move.

Her bare feet rooted to the carpet, toes curling into the plush fibers, her breath coming in shallow pants that made her breasts rise and fall under the shirt.

The moonlight sliced through the curtains like a lover’s gaze, catching her face in silver shards—cheekbones sharp enough to cut, lips parted and swollen from biting back moans, eyes wide and glassy with sleepless hunger.

Blonde hair spilled wild over her shoulders, tangled from restless fingers, framing the flush that crawled down her throat and disappeared beneath the only thing she wore: a threadbare, oversized t-shirt that clung to her like a second skin, hem skimming the tops of her thighs and fluttering with every shaky breath.

No bra. No panties.

The cotton was damp where it brushed her pussy, molding to swollen lips, the outline of her clit a faint, treacherous shadow.

Every shift of her hips made the fabric ride higher, exposing the slick trail cooling on the inside of her thigh, the air thick with the raw, unmistakable scent of her need—musky, sweet, desperate.

Her nipples pressed hard against the shirt, dark peaks begging for teeth, and when she swallowed, the motion dragged the hem up just enough to flash the curve where thigh met ass, bare, trembling, naked to anyone who knew how to look.

"This is a bad idea," I said quietly, not moving, not disturbing Madison who still slept peacefully against my side, her pussy’s warmth a steady pulse against my skin.

"I know that too."

Still didn’t leave. Her thighs rubbed together subtly, a desperate friction, her fingers twisting at the hem of her shirt like she wanted me to come over myself to her side and lift it, expose her while she begs.

Her breath hitched, a soft, needy whimper escaping her lips. "Yes."

The honesty that only happened at three in the morning when defenses were down and consequences felt distant enough to ignore, when all that mattered was the ache between her legs and the cock she could see tenting my boxers.

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