Veil System: Running a Model, High-End Escort and Marriage Agency
Chapter 63: Finesse of Lust and Seduction

Chapter 63: Finesse of Lust and Seduction

Her smirk was razor-sharp, laced with arrogance, as if she truly believed she had control. That this little act of hers—this poised, calculated seduction—was enough to rattle him. Enough to make him cave.

Cute.

Justin didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he let the moment stretch, his silence thickening the air between them. The kind of silence that weighed heavy, that turned anticipation into something unbearable.

And she noticed.

But Justin was looking at her status instead!

Name: [Isabella Reynolds]

Soul: [Not Snatched]

Fear: [05]

Dark Lust: [70]

Stand/Trust: [20]

Take: [Snatch at all cost, Seduce, and Recruit] he smiled faintly.

Her fingers twitched slightly against his chin—subtle, barely there, but he caught it. A crack in her performance. A sign that, despite her confidence, she wasn’t immune to the pressure he exuded.

Justin’s lips quirked. "You’re real good at this, huh?" His voice was low, slow, amused. "Like, this whole seduction act. The ’oh no, I tripped and fell into your lap’ routine. Gotta say, impressive commitment."

Her smirk deepened, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. Irritation? Annoyance? Good.

"You think I’m acting?" she mused, tilting her head. "How cute."

"Oh, sweetheart," Justin sighed, shaking his head. "I don’t think. I know."

And then, before she could react, he moved.

His hands found her thighs, slow and deliberate, fingertips ghosting over soft, smooth skin. Not gripping. Not taking. Just... feeling. Testing. Measuring the way her muscles tensed beneath his touch, the way her breath caught for just a second before she forced it steady.

She expected him to grab her. To claim her. To play into whatever game she thought she was controlling.

But Justin?

Justin did the opposite.

He sank lower.

Lower.

Until he was on his fucking knees before her.

Her confidence flickered, surprise flashing across her face for the briefest moment before she schooled her expression. But Justin saw it. Felt it. That tiny little shift in control.

And he wasn’t done.

His hands, still teasingly light, slid higher, fingers tracing the hem of her dress before—slowly, so fucking slowly—lifting it.

Higher.

Higher.

Until her thighs were completely exposed to him.

And then?

Then, he leaned in.

His lips brushed against her skin—just barely, just enough for her to feel the heat of his breath. A whisper of a touch. A ghost of a kiss.

And she—

Did. Not. Move.

Not away. Not closer. Just frozen, her body taut like a string pulled too tight.

[Ding! +Lust 75! 20% Soul Snatched!]

Interesting.

Justin chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin. "No protests?"

Nothing.

No words. No sharp comebacks. Just the steady rise and fall of her chest, her hands clenching slightly as if debating whether to push him away or pull him closer.

So he tested her further.

"Ahhh~~"

Another kiss. This one deliberate. Placed just above her knee, feather-light but full of promise. Then another. Higher. And another. Higher.

[Ding +Lust 78! 35% Soul Snatched!]

A slow, torturous climb.

And she?

"Justin~" She exhaled sharply, her fingers twitching at her sides. Still resisting. Still holding out.

Justin smirked against her thigh. "You sure you’re not acting?" He teased already seeing his end goal.

Her head tilted downward, eyes dark, challenging. "You’re on your knees for me," she countered, voice steady. "Who’s really in control here?"

Oh, she was good.

Justin hummed, his lips now just a breath away from the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Close. So close. Close enough that she had to feel the heat of him, had to anticipate the inevitable.

But he didn’t give it to her.

Not yet.

Instead, he lifted his gaze, locking onto hers, his smirk lazy. "Funny thing about power," he murmured, "it shifts real fucking fast."

[Ding! +Lust 80. 40% Soul Snatched]

And just like that—

He stood.

Fast. Effortless. Fluid.

One second he was kneeling. The next? He was towering over her, his body pressing forward, forcing her backward. A step. Then another. Until her back hit the cold, expensive leather of the couch, and he was caging her in.

Her breath hitched.

Justin braced a hand against the armrest beside her head, the other trailing down her side—slow, teasing, like he had all the time in the world.

[Ding! Isabella Reynolds is being affected by Dark Lust!]

"You really thought you had me, didn’t you?" he murmured, amusement threading through his tone. Her lips parted—maybe to deny, maybe to counter—but he didn’t give her the chance.

His fingers caught her chin, tilting her face up, his mouth hovering just over hers. So close. So fucking close.

But he didn’t kiss her.

Not yet.

Because he wanted her to want it. To need it. To break first.

And she knew it.

He could see it in the way she clenched her jaw, the way her eyes darkened, the way her nails dug into the couch like she was trying so hard to maintain control.

Justin smiled. Slow. Wicked.

Then—

"Beg."

One word. A command wrapped in silk, sharp enough to cut.

Her breath stuttered.

And for the first time—

She hesitated.

He chuckled, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip. "See?" he whispered, voice a taunt. "Told you power shifts fast."

And just like that—

She was the one caught in his game.

Silence.

Thick, heavy, and absolutely suffocating.

Not the awkward kind. Not the kind where words get lost.

No.

This? This was the kind of silence that came when something shifted. When something changed.

Justin’s fingers didn’t still, didn’t stop their lazy exploration. They traveled up her thighs in slow, deliberate circles, light, teasing touches that felt almost unintentional. Like he wasn’t doing it on purpose. His hand just happened to skim over her skin in the most calculated, subtle way, making her feel like he was playing some slow, dangerous game with her. But she wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what he was doing.

[Ding +Lust 87!]

And it infuriated her. God, did it infuriate her.

The worst part? She couldn’t even call him out on it.

Not when her own body was betraying her in every way imaginable.

Not when her breath hitched, her lashes fluttered with a flutter of nerves that she couldn’t hide, when her fingers twitched, itching to grip him, to pull him closer, to make him stop teasing her—but not in the way she should be in control of this situation. She wasn’t the one leading this dance, but she should have been.

She was supposed to be the one to seduce him, to be the one testing him, breaking him down. Instead, she was the one being broken.

And yet—