Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs - Chapter 540

Chapter 540: Brilliant. Ferocious (R-18)
Her nails raked my back, leaving furrows of stinging fire that bloomed hot and bright across my skin—lines of possession, marking me as hers while I branded her as mine with every brutal thrust.

The sharp scent of sweat and sex hung thick in the air, our bodies slick, sliding together in a wet, primal rhythm. Her back arched completely off the bed, spine bowing like a drawn bowstring, her full tits bouncing heavily with the violence of my strokes, nipples drawn tight into dark, aching peaks that begged for my mouth.

“Ah—ah—god—yes—fuck—” she chanted, voice cracking, raw, the words punched out of her on every slam of my hips.

“Peter—Peter—Peter—” My name became her prayer, her plea, her entire world narrowed down to the thick cock splitting her open.

“Don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—” she begged, nails scrabbling over my shoulders, my arms, anywhere she could reach, leaving red trails that burned deliciously.

I gave her no mercy.

I angled my hips just right, driving deep enough to kiss her cervix while dragging the swollen head of my cock across her G-spot in one devastating stroke after another.

Each time I bottomed out I ground forward, crushing her slick, throbbing clit against my pelvis until she sobbed.

My hands were iron on her hips—fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise, branding those glowing spots only I could see—holding her exactly where I needed her while I fucked her like I was trying to imprint myself into her soul.

Our bodies were drenched, skin slapping wetly, the obscene squelch of her soaked pussy taking me over and over filling the room along with the musky reek of arousal and sweat. Her tits crushed against my chest with every thrust, those stiff nipples scraping across my skin like live wires, sending shocks straight to my balls.

She grabbed my hand in a sudden, desperate move and brought it to her mouth. Kissed my knuckles, tongue flicking out to taste the salt on my skin.

“What are you?” she whispered, voice trembling against my fingers.

“Yours,” I growled. “Tonight, completely fucking yours.”

“Not human.”

My hand slid down her sweat-slick stomach, over the quiver of her abs, lower. Found her drenched, swollen, still fluttering from the last orgasm. One finger slipped inside easily—then two—her walls clamping down greedily, so hot and wet I could feel her pulse around me.

She gasped, hips jerking. “Peter—I can’t—”

“You can.” I curled my fingers, stroked that ridged spot inside her that made her eyes roll back. “You will.”

“Oh gods—”

Already climbing again. Her hips rolled shamelessly against my hand, chasing more, even while she whimpered that it was too much.

I leaned down, mouthed the side of her neck where that bright point blazed under my tongue, tasted her sweat and the faint trace of jasmine still clinging to her skin, then bit down just hard enough to make her cry out.

Her hand snaked between us, found my cock—rock-hard, slick with her—and stroked once, twice, squeezing the base until I hissed.

“Again?” Disbelief and hunger thick in her voice.

“Again.”

I pulled my fingers free; she whined at the loss, empty and aching. I flipped her, dragged her up until she straddled me, thighs trembling. She hovered over my cock, lips swollen and shining with her own juices.

“Ride me, Priya.”

Her eyes went huge, dark, stunned. “I don’t think I—”

I gripped her hips and pulled her down—slowly, relentlessly—watching her face the entire time as I split her open again. Inch by thick inch disappeared into that tight, greedy heat until she was fully seated, impaled, her breath hitching on a broken moan.

“Oh—oh fuck—”

I let her adjust, let her feel every throbbing inch stretching her. Then her hands braced on my chest, nails digging crescents into my skin, and she started to move.

Tentative at first, testing, rising up until just the head remained inside, then sinking back down with a wet sound that made my vision blur. Faster. Harder. Her tits bouncing wildly, hair a dark storm around her face, sweat dripping down the valley between her breasts.

“There—right there—fuck—”

I slid my hands up, cupped those heavy, perfect tits, rolled her nipples between my thumbs until she keened. She leaned forward, changing the angle, grinding her clit against my pelvis with every roll of her hips.

I sat up, wrapped my arms around her sweat-slick back, crushed her to me—chest to chest, heartbeats slamming together—and kissed her filthy and deep, swallowing every moan as she rode me like she was trying to fuse us together.

“Peter—I’m—”

“Come.”

She shattered. Her pussy clamped down so hard I saw stars, pulsing around me in long, milking waves while she shook and sobbed into my mouth.

I didn’t give her time to breathe. Flipped us again, pinned her beneath me, still buried deep. Started driving into her again—hard, punishing strokes that made the headboard slam against the wall.

“No—too much—”

I ignored her, sucked a nipple into my mouth, grazed it with my teeth until she arched off the bed with a scream. Her legs locked around my waist, heels digging into my ass, urging me deeper even as she begged.

I hooked her knees over my elbows, folded her in half—ankles by her ears—and pounded into her at that brutal new angle, hitting so deep she couldn’t form words, only broken, wet sounds. My thumb found her clit again, rubbed tight, ruthless circles.

“Can’t—I can’t—”

“You will.”

And she did. Her fourth orgasm tore through her like a seizure—back bowing, pussy gushing around my cock, a raw, guttural cry ripping from her throat as her entire body locked up.

I pulled out; she gasped at the sudden emptiness, betrayed and aching. “Turn over.”

“I can’t move—”

I turned her anyway, arranged her limp body exactly how I wanted—face down, hips lifted just enough. Straddled her thighs and slid back in from behind. Tighter this way, hotter, her ass pressed flush to my hips on every stroke.

“Fuck—Peter—”

I draped myself over her back, chest to spine, lips at her ear. “One more, baby. Give me one more.”

“I’ll die—”

“You won’t.”

Slow now. Deep, grinding thrusts that dragged over every sensitive inch inside her. My hand snaked beneath her, fingers finding her clit again—swollen, hypersensitive. She tried to squirm away; I pinned her hips and kept circling, gentle but relentless.

“Peter—please—too much—”

“Shh. Just feel me.”

I stroked her hair with my free hand, soothing, tender, while I fucked her open with long, deliberate strokes that lit up every secret spot inside her. Built her slowly this time, inexorably, until her breath hitched on tiny, overwhelmed sobs and her body started trembling again.

“That’s it. Let it happen. I’ve got you.”

She broke—quieter this time, deeper, a wave that started in her toes and rolled up through her whole body until she was shaking apart beneath me, tears soaking the pillow, pussy fluttering in soft, endless pulses that pulled me over the edge with her.

I came with a groan, buried to the hilt, filling her again while her walls milked every drop.

Collapsed beside her, both of us wrecked, chests heaving, skin sticky with sweat and sex. The room smelled like us—like sin and surrender.

Long minutes of nothing but ragged breathing.

Then a weak, wondering laugh against my shoulder.

“Five,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “You made me come five times.” Another shattered laugh. “I didn’t know that was physically possible.”

I pulled her closer, tucked her sweat-damp body against mine, kissed the top of her head. “Now you do.”

She tilted her face up, those dark eyes searching mine, soft and wrecked and utterly unafraid.

“What are you?”

I brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Told you. Yours.”

“Just for tonight?”

I thought about the others. About tomorrow. About all the complications waiting outside that door.

“We’ll see.”

Her smile was small, tired, radiant. “I’ll take that.”

“Sleep, Priya.”

“Can’t. Brain won’t—” A huge yawn cut her off. “—stop…”

She was out in seconds, breath evening out against my chest.

I lay awake a little longer, tracing idle patterns over the marks I’d left on her skin, breathing her in—jasmine and sex and something uniquely her.

Priya Sharma. Brilliant. Ferocious.