Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 892

Chapter 892: Pride and Compensation 2(r-18)

She didn’t care.

"For the record," she said, voice steady despite the shaking, despite the way her pussy was already clenching in nervous, greedy anticipation against his tip, "this is what wounded pride looks like."

And before he could respond—before he could tease, or laugh, or offer that devastating gentleness that had ruined her last night—Sarah sank down.

One inch.

Two.

Three.

The stretch burned fresh and bright—her sore walls protesting, fluttering, stretching taut around his thickness all over again.

"Ahhhhh... Peter~"

A broken, breathless moan tore from her throat; she didn’t bother muffling it.

Fuck it.

She’d already given this man everything. Her head tipped back. Nails dug into his chest, leaving faint red crescents. Her pussy opened for him—slow, reluctant, desperately tight—every veined inch dragging against oversensitive nerves until the sound that escaped her was somewhere between agony and worship.

She didn’t stop.

Deeper.

Deeper still.

Until her hips met his. Until he was buried to the base inside her—full, claimed, hers.

Peter stared up at her—golden morning light haloing her wild hair, breasts swaying with each ragged breath, tears of overwhelmed pleasure pricking the corners of her eyes from the brutal stretch—and his expression shifted into something beyond lust, beyond amusement, beyond anything she had words for.

Pride. Awe. Love so fierce it looked like it hurt.

"Mom could never," Sarah whispered, voice cracked and triumphant.

Then she began to move.

Slow at first—testing, savoring the deep ache, the way her tender walls fluttered and gripped him like they never wanted to let go. Her hips rolled in small, deliberate circles, grinding down so the thick base pressed hard against her swollen clit.

A soft, shattered whimper escaped her.

She leaned forward—hands braced on his chest—hair falling like a curtain around them both.

Peter’s hands found her hips—fingers digging in just enough to steady her, not to control. His thumbs traced soothing arcs over the sensitive skin there even as his cock throbbed deep inside her.

Her thighs quivered uncontrollably where they framed his hips—inner muscles still spasming in tiny, helpless aftershocks.

Her pussy gripped him in slow, greedy ripples, reluctant to release even a fraction of him; each flutter sent fresh warmth leaking out around his base, trickling down the cleft of her ass in slow, tickling rivulets that made her shiver.

Peter kissed her temple—soft, lingering—lips brushing sweat-salty skin, tasting the faint sweetness of her exertion.

Then he murmured against, breath hot and velvet-rough against her ear: "I want to see you like this... all of you... open and taking me." The words vibrated through her skull, low and reverent, thick with care and barely-leashed hunger. "Let me turn you. Slowly. I’ve got you."

She nodded—small, shy, still dazed from the last shattering climax—her fingers clutching weakly at his shoulders, nails leaving faint crescent indents in his skin. He slid his hands under her thighs and lower back in one smooth, possessive motion, palms broad and scorching, lifting her without ever fully withdrawing.

The shift made his cock drag agonizingly slow along her front wall; the thick ridge of his crown scraped over every oversensitive nerve ending still raw from overuse.

She whimpered—high, fractured—fresh slick surging out around his base in a warm, slippery rush that coated his balls and dripped audibly onto the sheets.

He sat back on his heels—knees spread wide on the mattress, thighs powerful and steady—guiding her legs to wrap around his waist.

He kept one arm locked strong behind her back—forearm like iron, hand splayed wide across her shoulder blades—while the other hand cupped her ass, fingers digging into soft flesh, spreading her cheeks slightly so he could feel the slick heat where they joined even more intimately.

"Easy... breathe... take me deeper," he coached softly, eyes locked on hers the entire time, dark and molten. His thick cock—still rock-hard, veins standing out like cords under the taut skin, glistening with her glossy release—slid even deeper as her own body weight impaled her fully.

She gasped—sharp, high, almost a sob—nails raking down his shoulders as the fullness bloomed deeper than before, a dense, aching pressure that made her lower belly flutter and her vision white at the edges.

She obeyed—eyes dropping, glassy and wide, pupils blown black. The sight was obscene, graphic, undeniable: her swollen outer lips stretched taut and dark pink around the thick base of his cock, clinging desperately to every veined inch like they were trying to pull him back in.

Not thrusting up.

Just rolling her forward and back in tiny circles on his lap so the thick ridge of his crown ground relentlessly against that spongy front wall while her clit rubbed firmly at his thick rolling root—wet, electric friction that made her toes curl and her breath hitch into tiny, broken gasps.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify