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 something else. A heat crawling under my skin like liquid confidence. Years of curiosity, late‑night research, half-formed fantasies and dreams that never made sense until this exact moment—now flooding me 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 me.

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. freeweɓnovel~cѳm

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 come with a warning label.

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

I had her. Right there. Wrapped around me 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 me, her hips ground desperately, but I didn’t let her control the pace anymore.

It was mine now.

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

All that internet research was finally paying dividends.

I remembered 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 messy. Raw. Like her voice couldn’t decide between crying out in pleasure or begging for mercy.

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 something sacred. My thumb brushed her nipple, and the way her body twitched in response sent a surge through me 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 something 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 me 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 time, and her body clamped down around me so violently I thought I might come right then and there.

She was unraveling. Because of me.

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 memory 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 me, 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 me with enough force to probably cause structural damage.

She had a full‑system meltdown 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 me—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.

Time 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 some clueless first‑timer but like someone who had been preparing for that moment his entire pathetic existence.

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

She could barely breathe—moaning uncontrollably, gasping between fragmented 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 me, trying to pull me even deeper.

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

Her voice cracked on the word fucking, like she couldn’t believe it was real—like the whole idea of me, 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 me, 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 time I bottomed out, and her breath kept hitching like she was chasing the edge of something 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 time in my entire life... I wasn’t imagining it.

I was the one driving her crazy.

Me.

Peter Carter.

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

"Peter... oh my god... you’re... you’re fucking me 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 names in any language.

"YES! Oh fuck, Peter! Just like that!" she screamed, 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 time 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 me.

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 slammed deeper, faster. She screamed, 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 me for everyone else!"

***

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