Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 367: Taste of the Forbidden (R-18)

Emma’s POV

The flas surged again—not warmth, but fire roaring from sowhere deep beneath my stomach. Heat coiled like molten tal, thick and aching, demanding the oblivion he’d only hinted at before. Now it scread. His waistband was tight under my grip, my knuckles white.

This was really happening. Years of hidden glances, midnight fantasies—a lifeti of wanting Peter—and now his hands were on my hips, his breath warm against my skin. It felt unreal, like stepping into a dream I’d been too afraid to ever fully imagine.

But then—abruptly—he stopped. He dropped to his knees.

The thud was heavy, tallic against the carpet, startling in the sudden silence. A small cry escaped my throat—surprise? Disbelief? That this man, this Peter, was kneeling before ? Everything just... stopped.

His eyes. Even in the dimness, they burned, glowing fiercely amber-yellow. Not just light... hunger. Ancient, devouring. And that look... it wasn’t the gentle admiration I’d pictured. It was possession. Raw. Primal. As if after all this ti, he’d finally decided to claim what was his. It stole my breath. My possession.

His gaze locked between my thighs, the intensity visceral. My own lips parted unconsciously, my vision stunned—fixed on him. He was really looking. The sheer intimacy of it, the way his eyes devoured a part of no one had ever seen, sent a jolt of pure electric terror through .

I froze. Instinct took over—my hands flew forward, trying to cover myself. Sha sliced through the raw hunger he could feel radiating from , just for a half-second.

This was too new. Too exposed. The innocence I’d guarded so fiercely felt suddenly flayed open.

Before my fingers could even obscure his view, he shook his head. It was almost imperceptible, but it radiated pure command. One sharp gesture: Stop. Do not.His voice cut through the stillness, dark velvet layered over sothing heavier, like silk hiding a blade.

"Move them, sweetness?" he asked, conversationally laced with velvet darkness. That low tone, a voice I’d heard tease and command a thousand tis, now wrapped around an order that shook to my core.

I hesitated, trapped between mortification and an arousal that scread for him to see, to possess what I’d never willingly shown to anyone... until my hands fell nervelessly away. Surrendering felt like stepping off a cliff into terrifying, exhilarating air.

Then, sensation ignited for . Like nothing I’d ever imagined. Like a live wire scorching over oversensitive skin. His touch slid down my inner thigh to my knee, parting with absolute dominance.

His hands gripped possessively, spreading—finally, uncooperingly—my legs apart beneath his command, like a sculptor molding flesh to his will. The sheer strength in those hands, the casual way he positioned my body exactly as he wanted it, was overwhelming.

He was so sure, and I was completely lost.

That exposure... complete vulnerability. Utterly terrifying. I felt utterly naked, not just physically, but soul-deep. Every secret yearning, every stolen look, laid bare before him. Yet, it was thrilling beyond all limits.

A single, wet bead traced slowly downward from my glistening entrance. I could feel it and his eyes on it.

His hungry eyes worshiped it, staring as if it were an altar offering ant to be devoured.

The reverence in his gaze was almost as potent as the touch itself. Then... just a slow lick, right there, along the delicate folds. Contact. Heat. Wetness. My entire world narrowed to that one point of impossible sensation. My back arched violently, a gasp tearing from as my whole spine jolted upright. It felt like lightning striking water.

I jamd my own fingers against my mouth, muffling the cry, my eyes squeezing shut, terrified soone would hear, would discover this stolen, unbelievable night.

Then: another wet lap. Slow, shockingly possessive, his flat tongue dragging straight up the seam to the tight bundle beneath its hood. Once around it... deliberately... twice... Every movent was a revelation. A language my body understood instantly, but my mind reeled to comprehend.

More intense than any dream of him I have had for years, more real than any touch I’d ever given myself.

Fire exploded within . Liquid wildfire flooded my pelvis, an unexpected force that made my toes curl tight against the bed.

This was... this was the peak? This fire, this unstoppable wave?

It was terrifying in its power, unlike anything I’d ever felt. A whimper caught painfully behind my bitten knuckles; silent tears stread down my face. Tears of pure, overwhelming sensation. Of disbelief that this was finally happening, and that it was Peter undoing so completely.

"Easy for to taste now? I’ll show you heaven’s threshold itself, big sister..." The words, that forbidden na—big sister—sent another terrifying thrill through .

The na, once familiar teasing, now twisted into sothing dark, forbidden, and sinfully exciting. We weren’t that anymore, I scread silently inside. That illicit height added a deeper wave that crashed relentlessly, nearly blinding . The taboo was gasoline on the fire.

"Quiet, sweetness..." His voice vibrated over my exposed flesh, sending aftershocks through the oversensitive bundle he teased. Now, he added rhythmic flicks—fast, unrelenting, directly on the epicenter.

It was too much. Too intense. Too new. My body didn’t know how to process this concentrated pleasure. My vision narrowed, focused inward on the crushing liquid release building unstoppable.

I trembled, muscles locking in violent anticipation.

He moved like the master he was, sensing every tremor. He knew my body better than I did. He alternated between relentless attack and retreating gently, tracing around the entrance, feeling that near-breaking point just beyond.

My hips moved without command, grinding upward, craving more, please NOW, while ragged hitches escaped my breath. My body was acting on pure instinct, driven by a force I couldn’t na, chasing an oblivion only he seed able to grant.

My mind shattered. Oh GOD Peter YES, more more— Then terror jolted through —panic. Doors. A sound in the hallway. The hallway light turning on. Then darkness again. Silence. The intrusion of the outside world was a brutal splash of cold water. It was too close. A fraction off safety.

The risk magnified everything. The fear of discovery warred with the terror of stopping, of being left hanging on this unbearable edge Peter had built.

Even as my hands flew from my mouth, desperate to grasp the headboard, his large, deliberate hand smothered my gasps into oblivion.

His mouth and hand covered , his onslaught redoubling—fiercer now, demanding—knowing I could barely keep silent while he drank, knowing my breaking point was coming whether anyone stood there or not.

My fingers flexed tight around the headboard, white-knuckled, fighting the need to scream his na. He took the swollen pearl between skilled lips, finding a possessive rhythm, sucking, claiming .

The suction, the deliberate rhythm, felt like he was drawing out my very soul. Wet slick heat poured from , shaless evidence into his consuming kiss. The world shrank for to that single point of sensation. My awareness dissolved. There was only the fire, the pressure, the terrifying intensity building deep inside.

My body locked rigid, vibrating on the unbearable verge... snapping... but it didn’t. Yet.

He sensed it, relented, easing back to the razor’s edge. He knew I’d endured too long. He would reward my waiting soon; he felt the pulsion in my tense muscles. But the door outside creaked again.

Hold...my mind whispered, praying. Please... don’t. Don’t stop. Panic clawed at . Please, Peter, don’t stop now! I need this. I need you. Peter heard it in my locked limbs, in the desperate thrum of my pulse against his eager tongue—my silent prayer written in body language: Don’t. Fucking. Stop.

And he rewarded my courage under fire, for the forbidden flas rising within: pressure renewed, harder, deeper, until... I exploded in a silent scream muffled against his skin and muscle.

The world fractured. Shattered. Pure, liquid fire consud from the inside out, a release so powerful it felt like annihilation and rebirth in the sa breath. He swallowed every pulse I offered, silently, until the release stopped, only my thighs shaking softly beneath him.

He looked up at my beautiful, undone face. Hunger. Sated. I lay utterly spent, boneless, my mind reeling. That was what I’d been missing? What he could do? It was unbelievable.

Evident glory. Worship paid. Virgin sacrifice wasn’t just accepted; it was devoured, cherished. Pleasured. Completely, utterly wrecked in the best possible way. Now owned. I felt the truth of it deep in my bones. His hunger? Barely begun its feast upon this forbidden fruit.