Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 24: Taking Control: My First Time 4(R-18)

The nerves were still there—but buried under sothing else. A heat crawling under my skin like liquid confidence. Years of curiosity, late‑night research, half-ford fantasies and dreams that never made sense until this exact mont—now flooding all at once.

All those hours of "educational research" were finally about to pay off.

And suddenly, I wasn’t just letting this happen to .

I took control.

My hands seized her hips, fingers sinking in with a grip I didn’t know I had. My eyes locked on hers—glassy, stunned, still trying to process how completely filled she was.

Then I thrust up.

Hard.

She yelped—her mouth falling open, her whole body jolting like I’d sent an electric current through her spine.

"Peter—"

Another thrust. Deep. Precise. Not reckless, not rushed—just deliberate, like I knew what her body needed before she did.

And holy fuck, I was actually making her lose control.

Her eyes rolled back in a way that should’ve probably co with a warning label.

She moaned—loud enough that her neighbors were probably googling my na—and that was when it hit :I could destroy her composure.

I had her. Right there. Wrapped around tighter than anything I’d ever imagined.And she couldn’t stop shaking.

"You wanted all of it," I muttered, breath ragged, pulling out until just the tip remained—then driving back in with terrifying precision. "You’re gonna take what you can handle."

"Oh, fuck—"

She couldn’t form complete sentences anymore.

And I was the reason.

She clawed at my chest as I established a rhythm—slow, deep strokes that hit her at angles she clearly hadn’t prepared for. Her legs tightened around , her hips ground desperately, but I didn’t let her control the pace anymore.

It was mine now.

Her moans turned ssy—broken and desperate. Her words dissolved into pure sound.

All that internet research was finally paying dividends.

I rembered everything I’d absorbed from countless hours of "educational content"—hip angles, rhythm changes, the art of pulling out slow and going back in with purpose. I did all of it—every technique, every angle that had looked effective.

Her hands scrambled for purchase—my chest, the sheets, her own thighs—anything to anchor her as I set the rhythm. Controlled. Deep. Unrelenting.

Her moans turned ssy. Raw. Like her voice couldn’t decide between crying out in pleasure or begging for rcy.

I leaned up, one hand still gripping her waist, the other sliding up to her breast, and when my palm cupped it—soft and flushed and bouncing gently with every thrust—it was like touching sothing sacred. My thumb brushed her nipple, and the way her body twitched in response sent a surge through I couldn’t explain. Not with words. Not with logic.

I lowered my head—didn’t even think. I just acted. Instinct took the wheel.

My mouth closed over her nipple and I sucked. Slow at first. Gentle. Like I was tasting sothing forbidden. My tongue flicked over the tip and her entire spine arched like I’d lit a fuse.

"Oh my God, Peter—~~"

Her voice broke.

Her hands flew to the back of my head, holding there like she needed my mouth on her. Like she couldn’t survive if I stopped. I rolled her nipple between my lips, sucked again, harder this ti, and her body clamped down around so violently I thought I might co right then and there.

She was unraveling. Because of .

Because I had her breast in my mouth and most of my cock buried inside her at once, and I couldn’t tell anymore where I ended and she began.

I switched sides—kissed across her chest, lips and tongue dragging heat across her flushed skin—then took her other nipple in my mouth and sucked again like I knew what I was doing.

Truth? I had no clue.

I was faking it. Riding pure instinct and porn mory and desperation to please.

But judging by the gasping, cursing, half-moan, half-sob sounds pouring out of Madison Torres’s mouth... I was nailing it.

She looked down at , eyes wide and wet and dazed. Like she couldn’t believe the virgin nerd had just taken control of her body like this.

Like I was rewriting her understanding of who I really was.

And maybe... I was.

And her body responded like I had just discovered the cheat codes to human pleasure.

Her walls clenched around with enough force to probably cause structural damage.

She had a full‑system ltdown and I was the cause.

I leaned up, wrapped one arm around her back, and flipped her with strength I didn’t know I possessed—rolling her onto her back as I hovered over her with newfound confidence.She blinked up at —surprised, dazed, and turned on beyond all rational thought.The look on her face said she definitely hadn’t expected virgin nerd Peter to take charge like that.

"You’re supposed to be a virgin," she panted with whatever breath she could manage.

I thrusted into her—deeper now that I had leverage and gravity on my side. Her eyes fluttered like she was about to pass out from sensory overload.

Ti to blow her mind with the power of extensive theoretical knowledge.

"I did a lot of research," I grunted, hips driving into hers with rhythm that would have made my internet browsing history proud.

Her hands reached for anything—my arms, the expensive sheets, her own hair—as I started to really move, not like so clueless first‑tir but like soone who had been preparing for that mont his entire pathetic existence.

All those years of being ignored by girls just beca the ultimate training montage.

She could barely breathe—moaning uncontrollably, gasping between fragnted attempts at speech.

Her mouth dropped open, a helpless moan spilling out like she’d been ambushed by her own nerves. Her nails scraped down my back, leaving trails of heat as her thighs locked around , trying to pull even deeper.

"Jesus, Peter—" she gasped. "You’re actually fucking ."

Her voice cracked on the word fucking, like she couldn’t believe it was real—like the whole idea of , the so-called virgin nerd, turning into this version of myself in front of her very eyes was short-circuiting every expectation she’d ever had.

I leaned down to her neck, did exactly what I’d learned from every "study session" I ever had—kissed her skin just beneath her jaw, then dragged my tongue along that pulse point, slow and deliberate, before biting gently down.

She arched into , body spasming under mine.

"Oh my God, don’t stop," she whispered, voice broken and reverent like prayer. "Please don’t fucking stop."

I didn’t.

I picked up the rhythm—harder now, deeper, but never losing that deliberate timing. My hips snapped forward with the kind of precision that made her eyes roll back every ti I bottod out, and her breath kept hitching like she was chasing the edge of sothing she didn’t want to reach too soon.

"Fuck, Peter... You feel so good."

I grinned—barely—but it was there. The first real smirk I’d ever earned.

Because for the first ti in my entire life... I wasn’t imagining it.

I was the one driving her crazy.

.

Peter Carter.

And this—this mont, this girl, this fire building between us like we were about to break the bed fra and set the walls on fire—it was all fucking real.

"Peter... oh my god... you’re... you’re fucking so good."

She sounded genuinely shocked that the virgin nerd was rocking her world.

I leaned down against her neck, doing exactly what had looked most effective in all my research. "Damn right I am."

I gripped her thigh, pulled her leg higher over my shoulder, pushed as deep as her anatomy would allow. Her back arched like she had been possessed. Her moans turned into sounds that probably didn’t have nas in any language.

"YES! Oh fuck, Peter! Just like that!" she scread, her voice echoing off the walls. "Don’t you dare stop!"

She was completely losing her shit and I was the reason.

She was losing all control, and I was finding mine for the first ti in my life.

"Harder! Please, harder!" she begged, her nails digging into my back. "You’re so fucking deep! I can’t... I can’t think!"

The girl who was always in control was literally begging .

I picked up the pace—hips pistoning with a savage, deliberate power—and she reacted like I’d punched in a secret Konami code straight to her nervous system.

"Oh my God, Peter! You’re mine now!" she gasped, voice shredding under the weight of pleasure. "You’re fucking mine! No one else gets to have this!"

She was staking her claim while I was buried inside her to the hilt.

"You’re gonna be my man from now on," she panted—desperate, possessive, half‑feral. "This cock is mine. You’re mine."

Her words detonated in my bloodstream—pure electrical fire. I slamd deeper, faster. She scread, back arching off the bed like a live wire.

"FUCK YES! That’s it—that’s my man!" The walls must’ve rattled with how loud she moaned. "You’re ruining for everyone else!"

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