Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 990: Office Edge (r-18)

I caught her chin—thumb and forefinger, firm—tilted her face up until those dark, blown pupils locked onto mine. Lashes fluttered once, heavy, defeated.

Then I dropped my mouth to her neck like I owned it.

First kiss was a ghost—lips barely brushing the frantic hamr of her pulse.

Then I opened wide, sucked hard, pulling her tender sweet skin between my teeth with wet, filthy pressure.

She jerked against —full-body seizure—breasts smashing harder into my chest.

A cracked, needy "mmphhh..." ripped out of her throat, high and broken at the edges.

That sound... gods, it was so broken and needy filled with the entire story of how much she’s been wanting from the day we first t at the Rivera residence.

I dragged my mouth lower—open, sloppy, obscene trail down the elegant column of her throat. My tongue flicked out, tasting salt, jasmine, and the sweet panic of a woman finally losing the plot.

I latched onto the hollow at her collarbone—sucked brutally—teeth scraping tendon until she arched like soone yanked her spine backward. Head thudded against the glass. Throat offered up completely.

Another moan spilled—"hahhh... ahhh..."—raw, trembling, vibrating straight down my cock like a personal invitation.

My free hand claid her ass again—both cheeks this ti. Fingers dug in deep through the silk, spreading the plush, obscene flesh wide.

The dress stretched to breaking, molding to every jiggle as her glutes flexed and quivered against my grip. I kneaded roughly—slow, possessive circles—lifting her just enough to force her hips forward.

Soaked center ground hard against the thick, straining ridge in my pants. Dress rode up. Bare thigh t fabric. Fever-hot. Shaking.

She whimpered—"nnghhh..."—sound fracturing into sothing softer, more pathetic, hips bucking on pure animal instinct to chase the friction.

I spun her—fast, fluid—back slamming against the glass wall.

She went without resistance, palms slapping flat above her head like she’d been waiting for the order her whole life... like she wasn’t a mature woman with a teenager lover. Her wrists crossed high. Arms stretched.

Breasts thrust forward so violently the bodice looked ready to rip.

Nipples stabbed through silk like they were trying to escape. Gold chain had slipped low, pendant lost in the deep valley between heaving tits. Spine bowed. Ass pushed out—round, full, begging.

I caged her—one thick forearm braced beside her head, the other diving under the hem. Fingers finally found bare skin—silky, scorching, quivering. Spread wide. Squeezed both cheeks with bruising force.

I dug deep enough to part her slightly, feeling the blistering heat rolling off her drenched core. Lifted. Rolled her hips forward in slow, filthy rhythm—grinding her dripping pussy against my cock through every layer of denial. Lace thong soaked through.

Wet heat seeped into my pants. Swollen lips pressed insistently, shalessly, like they were trying to brand back.

Her moan tore out louder—"mmmmmhhh... hahhh..."—guttural, shaless, pouring from her like she’d forgotten how to be quiet. Hips bucked forward. I answered with harder grinds—deliberate, punishing rolls—letting her feel every thick, veined inch drag along her clit until her thighs trembled violently.

I kissed back up her neck—sucking viciously at the pulse point under her jaw, hard enough to bloom a dark, possessive hickey she’d have to turtleneck through tomorrow’s board eting.

Teeth grazed. Nipped. Sharp little bites that turned her gasp into a fractured "nnnghhh... fuckkk..."—first real word she’d let slip, dripping lust and surrender.

I pulled back just enough to look.

Eyes glassy. Heavy-lidded. Tears of pure frustration clinging to her lashes. Lips swollen, parted, spit-shiny.

Cheeks blazing crimson. Hair wrecked—strands glued to damp skin. Gold chain rising and falling between those wrecked tits with every ragged inhale.

She looked beautifull and ready to be destroyed—and I hadn’t even kissed her mouth yet.

I leaned in—lips brushing hers, hovering, teasing the final line.

She answered with a low, feral "mmphhh..."— half growl, half sob—hips rolling shalessly, grinding her soaked cunt against like she’d combust if I stopped.

That was it.

Breaking point reached. No take-backs.

I took her mouth—hard. Claiming.

Tongue forcing past her lips to plunder deep. She t like she was starving—ssy, wet, teeth clashing, desperate. One hand finally dropped from the wall to fist my shirt and yank closer—nails scraping like she wanted to crawl inside my skin.

The other stayed high, trembling against the glass, still chained by whatever invisible command I’d burned into her.

My hand on her ass squeezed one last brutal ti—fingers digging into bare, quivering flesh, spreading her cheeks wide, kneading until the plush at jiggled in thick, obscene waves against my palm—while I devoured her mouth.

Swallowed every broken, wordless moan she poured down my throat. Ground her dripping pussy against my cock in filthy, relentless rhythm until the only sounds left in that glass tower were:

wet, obscene kisses ragged, gasping breaths and the shaless, filthy symphony of Sable Rivera finally coming undone.

The kiss broke with a wet, filthy pop—her lips swollen and bruised-red, mine slick with the sweet-salt cocktail of her desperation, jasmine, and pure, unfiltered sin.

Sable’s eyes were gone—feral black pools, pupils blown so wide they swallowed the irises whole—locked on mine in a stare that scread "Don’t you fucking dare stop now, you godly bastard."

I wasn’t stopping.

I dropped low, hooked one thick arm under the crease of her thighs, banded the other around her lower back like a steel strap, and lifted her in one clean, claiming sweep.

She felt lighter than physics should allow for curves that obscene—but that heavy, plush ass settled right into my palm like God Himself had custom-molded it for my grip.

Her legs snapped around my waist on instinct; crystal heels stabbed into the small of my back like she was trying to pin in place.

The dress was already bunched high—scandalously high—baring the creamy undersides of her thighs and flashing lace every ti she shifted. The gold chain swung between us, cold tal kissing my overheated skin like a taunt.