Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 1095: Taking Away Her Control (r-18)

The world became her sole focus.

My hands moved instinctively before my mind could catch up, fingers finding the remnants of silk at her hips and pulling it down completely. The fabric fell to the floor with a soft sound, as if acknowledging its surrender to a deity consumed by desire.

Then, I turned her slowly. The gentle motion pressed her back against the cool, smooth surface of the island counter, allowing me to feast my gaze upon her completely.

Every single detail. Every divine, flawless inch of the exquisite Russian woman I adored.

She was sculpted like a weapon from the fires of paradise, disguised as living art.

Her breasts were positioned high and full, two opulent, pale orbs heavy enough to make ordinary men weak, their nipples already taut and eagerly awaiting conquest.

The kind of chest that had led mortals astray and made deities like myself feel compelled to kneel for just a single taste. Her pale skin was flushed a soft, alluring rose at the edges, bathed in light as if meticulously crafted in a divine laboratory for ultimate seduction.

Her slender waist flowed into hips that could make a man forget his own name, complemented by thighs that were thick and powerful, capable of crushing skulls or encircling a waist to hold a prize forever.

And her posterior—oh, the sweet, infernal mercy of it. Round, firm, two magnificent, plush orbs of resilient perfection that inspired belief in divine intervention, as no mortal creator could have sculpted something so phenomenal.

The cosmos and the Divine Seed had done their work, only enhancing the inherent sinfulness she always possessed!

I could no longer maintain restraint, dropping to my knees as if gravity itself had betrayed me, handing her the reins of my sanity.

I began at her throat.

My mouth found the pulse point just beneath her jaw, and I bit down, my teeth grazing her skin just enough to elicit a low, throaty moan from her depths—

"Ahh—!" The sound was soft yet held a hint of wildness, a plea from my princess who had decided the morning was hers to claim and mine to command.

I traced a path down the elegant line of her neck, gently nipping the curve of her shoulder with a slow, possessive grip, then moved lower. My tongue followed the line of her collarbone while my hands, empowered by Touch ability, roamed like they owned the very flesh beneath them, eliciting moans of pleasure with every second.

My palms glided up her ribs, my thumbs brushing the sensitive skin just beneath her perfect breasts before I finally succumbed and cupped them fully. Despite their size, they felt exquisite in my hands as I began to gently squeeze, kneading their luxurious weight as they spilled and overflowed between my fingers like a rich, heavy harvest.

Anastasia arched into me, her back bowing with the pleasure I was awakening within her, pushing those full, heaving breasts directly into my face like a sacred offering from a goddess who knew her power.

I took one of her stiff nipples between my teeth and tugged, then rolled it on my tongue, sucking deeply until her moan shifted into something sharper.

The other breast received the same attention, but this time with my teeth scraping, accompanied by my tongue's caress, while the flat of my palm delivered a light, stinging slap against the side of her breast, just to witness the heavy flesh jiggle obscenely before my eyes.

The sounds she made were a mix of laughter and gasps, as if she couldn't decide whether to curse my name or beg me to hasten her ruin.

I repeated the action.

With more force.

Her hands clenched in my hair, but she wasn't guiding me—only using me to steady herself as I devoured every curve as if they owed me eternal tribute.

I continued my descent between her chest, my tongue tracing the soft, inviting valley between her breasts before moving lower. I kissed the tender underside of one breast, then moved to the other, nipping the sensitive skin until faint red marks bloomed on both, like temporary tattoos declaring my ownership, etched with my teeth in the language only teeth could write, in inks of passion.

My palms slid down to her waist, gripping hard enough to leave perfect imprints of ownership, then moved around to that glorious posterior.

Damn, that womanly ass.

I squeezed both cheeks with unyielding force, unwilling to do anything by halves. My hands parted her cheeks, digging my fingers deep into the plush, yielding flesh as I kissed lower, across the flat plane of her stomach, lingering at the soft skin just above her hip bone until she shivered uncontrollably.

I slapped her rear once—a light, sharp sound that echoed off the curved walls like a starting pistol for sheer sin.

Her moan transformed into a broken little laugh that pierced my core with its sheer beauty—

I complied as if she had begged.

I gave her two more swift slaps, one on each cheek, watching the heavy flesh jiggle and flush pink beautifully under my hands, as if blushing just for me.

Before I knew it, I was kissing there too—my mouth finding the curve of her hip, my teeth sinking in with a slow, rolling clamp that made her hips jerk forward greedily.

My tongue traced the crease where thigh met body, teasing, biting the inside of her thigh hard enough to leave a vivid, claiming mark while my hands continued their work on her ass—squeezing, spreading, kneading the plump globes as if they were dough I fully intended to ruin before the sun climbed higher.

She was trembling now, but not from weakness, rather from pure, electric, cock-starved want for her pussy.

Her thighs parted just a fraction on instinct, and I rewarded her by licking a slow, deliberate stripe up the outside of one, then the other, biting the thick meat of her quad until she hissed my name like a curse and a prayer intertwined in the only way she knew how—

I stood back up, spinning her again so her front pressed against the cool stone of the island. The stark contrast of her hot, flushed skin against the cold surface ripped a sharp gasp from her—

Perfect... that was just perfect... my woman singing praises to me. I kicked her feet wider apart, then dropped back down behind her because that ass deserved a proper, reverent audience.

I kissed the base of her spine first. Slowly, with my mouth open, I dropped lower, dragging my teeth over each perfect cheek while my hands spread her wide open, my tongue tracing every inch except the one place she ached for—because rules were rules, and delicious torment was half the divine game.

I bit down on the underside of her ass, hard, sucking until the skin bruised prettily under my mouth in a deep, possessive bloom. I gave her another light slap.

Then a harder one.

Her moan vibrated through her whole body, hips pushing back against me as if she could force me where she wanted—

I laughed against her skin—a dark, low sound, the sound of a man who knew exactly how much godlike power he held at that moment.

"You’re shaking, Anastasia," I murmured, my voice rough as ancient stone. "And I haven’t even gotten to your legs yet. How will you react if I do?"

I did just that to see her fall apart... I kissed down the backs of her thighs, biting the sensitive spots behind her knees until her legs trembled harder and she whimpered loudly.

I squeezed her calves and ran my palms up her smooth, powerful muscle, then back up to that glorious ass for another round of greedy, bruising handfuls and sharp little slaps that turned her moans into full-on, broken whimpers—

"Ah—yes—more—!"

By the time I stood again, pulling her back against my chest so I could reach around and fill my hands with her tits once more—squeezing, pinching, rolling those stiff peaks while my mouth attacked the side of her neck with a fresh, savage bite—I was raging with need, and she was a glorious mess of flushed skin, bitten marks, and soft, desperate sounds that filled the chamber like a hymn written for ruin.

Her head fell back against my shoulder, lips parted, breath coming in short, needy gasps.

I bit her earlobe, hard.

"Paris can wait another hour," I growled against her ear, one hand sliding down to grip her hip while the other continued to torture her breast. "Maybe two."

She laughed—breathless, wicked, already plotting her revenge.

And the closet, that bastard, dimmed the lights just a fraction as if it knew exactly how this morning was going to end.