Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 883

Chapter 883: The Sins of Sarah~ 2 (r-18)

She was shaking violently now—legs threatening to give, back arched off the wall, fingers pulsing in my hair in time with her heartbeat.

Hips rolling in tiny, desperate circles, smearing wet heat across my lips, my chin. A thin thread of saliva and her slick connected my tongue to the cotton when I pulled back for a breath. Filthy. Beautiful.

She saw it—eyes fluttering open just long enough—and the sight pushed another broken sob out of her.

We were still in the hallway. Door inches away. Voices and floorboards quiet somewhere deeper in the house. But neither of us moved to open it. Not yet. This—this trembling, filthy, reverent edge we were balanced on—was the best part of the walk.

And neither of us was ready to step over it. Because once we crossed that threshold, the princess would be gone. Only the corrupted little devil would remain—wet, wrecked, and finally free.

****

He carried her to the bed. Excruciatingly slow.

One knee sank into the mattress first. The bed sighed beneath his weight—a soft creak of springs, the intimate rustle of Egyptian cotton giving way.

He never once let her feel unsupported: one arm locked strong behind her back, broad hand splayed high between her shoulder blades, the other cradling the backs of her thighs, fingers sinking just deep enough into plush flesh to brand the message into her skin—she was held, cherished, desperately wanted.

Sarah’s breath caught as the mattress dipped and welcomed her body. Her ass settled first, then the graceful curve of her lower back, shoulders following, until she lay half-reclined, legs still wrapped possessively around his hips.

Her thighs squeezed tighter on instinct, heels digging into the firm muscle at the backs of his thighs, silently begging—pull me closer, don’t you dare stop.

He obeyed without a word. Lowered himself over her in torturously measured inches—his chest brushing hers first, the hard, heated planes of him sinking her softer curves deeper into the sheets.

The weight of him was perfect: heavy enough to pin her in place, light enough to let her breathe, solid enough to make every untouched inch of her skin scream for contact.

Forearms braced on either side of her head, he caged her gently, heat pouring off him in slow, rolling waves that made her shiver.

Their faces hovered, breaths colliding—hot, ragged, unsteady. Her lips fell open on a trembling exhale; his eyes—black with hunger—locked onto hers like the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

She moved first.

Fingers speared into his hair, tugged—not gently, not anymore—dragging his mouth back down to hers. The kiss was raw, consuming, tongues sliding deep and languid, tasting everything still clinging between them: salt from his skin, the lingering musk of her arousal he’d licked from the insides of her thighs earlier.

A low, throaty moan spilled from her straight into his mouth—vibrating down his spine, making his cock jerk hard against the soaked cotton still separating them.

He answered with a broken groan of his own. One hand glided down her side—tracing the dramatic dip of her waist, the generous flare of her hip—until his palm cupped her ass again, lifting her just enough to grind their hips tighter together.

The thick ridge of him dragged against her clit through fabric; she gasped sharply, nails raking lightly down his scalp, urging him deeper, harder.

He tore his mouth from hers only to map lower—open, wet kisses along her jaw, lingering at the tender spot beneath her ear that made her whimper, then down to the frantic pulse at the side of her throat.

He sucked—gentle at first, then harder—leaving faint, blooming red marks she would press her fingers to tomorrow and remember exactly how his mouth had claimed her.

Her neck arched, offering more. Chest thrust upward. Breasts strained against the thin tank, nipples tight and shamelessly visible.

His mouth returned to her breast—no barrier now. Lips closed around one aching nipple, tongue circling lazily before he sucked—hard.

A soft, broken "ohhh" tore from her throat; her back bowed sharply off the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets. The sound was raw, intimate, echoing faintly in the quiet room like a secret only they would ever hear.

She whimpered—high, needy, completely undone. "Peter..." His name left her on a shaky, pleading breath. "Please."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify