Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs - Chapter 549

Chapter 549: Silk Folds (R-18)
Rebecca’s moan was all the permission I needed. A broken, desperate sound that said she was done with gentle, done with being treated like she was fragile.

I didn’t give her time to think. I wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her cleanly off her feet. A sharp gasp of surprise as I carried her the few steps to the bed. I laid her down, not on her back, but on her stomach, her face turned to the side on the plush duvet.

“When was the last time a man took control, Rebecca?” I asked, my voice low as I knelt over her, my hands on the zipper of her sensible slacks.

“I…” she breathed, the word muffled by the bedding. “I don’t remember.”

“Good.”

Her kiss was a desperate, clumsy thing, but I tasted the courage beneath it. I crushed my mouth to hers, a possessive, claiming gesture that wiped every other thought from her mind. There was no gentleness, only a raw, hungry clash. My tongue wasn’t asking for permission; it was taking, delving deep to duel with hers, a wet, slick battle for dominance that she surrendered to with a sobbing moan.

I tasted her tears, her desperation, and the raw, untapped desire she’d kept locked away for so long.

I broke the kiss, both of us panting. “Shhh,” I murmured, my voice a low rumble against her swollen lips. “Let me show you.”

I didn’t wait for an answer. My gaze was a physical touch, searing a path down her body as I leaned in, pressing my lips to the frantic pulse point in her neck. She tasted of salt and expensive perfume. A soft sigh escaped her, her head lolling to the side, giving me better access.

My hands slid down her arms, finding the edge of her navy blazer. With agonizing slowness, I pushed it from her shoulders, letting it pool on the floor.

My knuckles brushed the side of her breast, and she jumped as if struck, a sharp, high-pitched sound tearing from her throat. Her entire body was a live wire, and I was barely even touching it yet.

The new expanse of skin was a canvas. Using my lips, I painted a path from the delicate curve of her shoulder to the tender skin behind her ear. I took the soft lobe between my teeth and bit down gently.

She whimpered, her hands flying to my biceps, her nails digging in. I felt the tremors that ran through her, a wave of gooseflesh rising in the wake of my mouth.

Next was the blouse. Her fingers, which had been clenched at her sides, now fumbled with the buttons. I covered her hands with mine. “No. Let me.”

My eyes held hers as I undid the first button. The simple act made her breath hitch. My mouth lowered, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the skin I’d just revealed—the hollow of her throat.

Another button.

I let my finger drag slowly down the line of her sternum before my mouth followed, and a shuddering gasp was her reward. Her chest was heaving now, the fabric stretching taut over breasts that begged for freedom.

I could see the edge of her bra, simple beige lace. Practical. Futile. I worked my way down, unbuttoning, kissing. A button at her ribs. A kiss to the soft, warm skin of her stomach. The muscles beneath her fluttered, her back arching, instinctually offering herself to me.

When the last button was undone, I peeled the fabric back, revealing her to me. The bra was a cage for breasts that were fuller, more perfect than I’d imagined, the dips and curves of her body a study in soft, feminine beauty.

My gaze devoured her, and she shivered, a soft moan escaping her lips.

My hands moved around her back, searching for the clasp. The hooks were simple, functional. I flicked them open.

The lace went slack. Instead of pulling it away, I slid my hands around to her front, my palms deliberately brushing against the sides of her breasts. Her breath hitched, a sharp, needy sound. I could feel her heart hammering against my wrist, a frantic bird in a cage of bone.

Only then did I draw the bra down her arms, freeing her. Her nipples were tight, dusky rose buds, already pearled with arousal. I didn’t touch them. Not yet. I leaned in and pressed a fervent, worshipful kiss to the center of her chest, right over her thundering heart.

I knelt before her then, looking up at the glorious sight of her: flushed, trembling, her body a symphony of gooseflesh and soft curves. My hands hooked into the waistband of her slacks. The button popped, the zipper hissed down.

I tugged the fabric down over her hips, down her thighs, letting it fall to her ankles.

My eyes devoured the newly exposed skin of her hips, the gentle swell of her stomach, the sensitive crease where her thigh met her torso. I pressed a series of soft, deliberate kisses along the waistband of her panties, tracing the elastic with my tongue. Her hands flew to my hair, her fingers tangling in the strands, a silent, desperate plea.

Finally, only one piece of fabric remained. The simple beige cotton was dark with her arousal, a testament to her desperate need. My hands slid up the back of her thighs, cupping the full, soft weight of her ass, feeling her tremble under my grip. I hooked my fingers into the final barrier.

I looked up one last time, meeting her dazed, passion-glazed eyes. “I’m going to worship every inch of you, Rebecca.”

Then, I peeled the damp cotton away, leaving her completely, beautifully bare. Her sex was slick and flushed, the dark curls damp with her need. The intoxicating, musky scent of her filled my head.

And I began my work.

I guided her to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling before her. I placed her legs over my shoulders, my hands gripping her thighs, pulling her forward. I blew a soft, cool stream of air over her slick folds, and her entire body jerked. Her head fell back, a low moan filling the room.

Then, I tasted her.

I flattened my tongue and lapped, one long, slow stroke from her entrance to her clit. She bucked, a strangled cry ripping from her as I circled the throbbing, sensitive bud with the tip of my tongue.

Her thighs tightened around my head, her heels digging into my back.

I delved deeper, my tongue exploring her, tasting her, fucking her with my mouth. I sucked her clit, gently at first, then harder, using the rhythm I knew would drive her mad. Her moans became cries, her hands fisting in the sheets, her body moving in a frantic, primal dance against my face.

I wasn’t just worshipping her; I was devouring her, and with every stroke of my tongue, I was erasing him, replacing every lie with a new, undeniable truth.

She was wanted. She was desired. And she was about to come completely, undone.