Seven Sins System Chapter 660. The Real Me
Seven Sins System Chapter 660. The Real Me
The word ripped out of me.
Not whispered. Not growled.
Commanded.
It wasn’t my Dr. Allen’s voice.
No.
This was me.
The real me.
The one that had once screamed across the battlefield loud enough to make angels fall from the sky clutching their ears.
Julia stilled for half a second.
Her lashes fluttered.
Then she obeyed.
Deeper.
She adjusted, slow at first, sinking down until the tension in my thighs tightened like drawn bowstrings. Until my breath hitched and my fingers in her hair went white-knuckled. Until my chest rumbled with a sound that wasn’t quite a moan, wasn’t quite a growl—just hunger.
It wasn’t about dominance.
This wasn’t me taking control.
It was me being forced to acknowledge the control I’d given.
And her?
She handled it like it was nothing.
Like kneeling in the dark for a devil.
No flinch. No break. She took me in, and her hands gripped my thighs, grounding me even as the fire under my ribs climbed higher—hot and molten and impossible to shake.
My breath came faster now. Rougher.
But I didn’t stop her.
I couldn’t.
She was the only thing anchoring me in this moment. The only one who could take me this close to madness without turning to ash.
And the worst part?
I didn’t want her to stop.
Not because I wanted release.
But because I needed the reminder.
That I was still powerful. Still wanted. Still dangerous.
Still a goddamn devil, not some conflicted thing sipping mortal coffee and pretending books were enough.
I clutched her hair tighter.
Not pulling. Just holding.
Like she was a lifeline dragging me back from the edge of whatever cliff Puriel had shoved me off.
I grit my teeth. My jaw locked.
My chest rose like a storm swell. My heart beat too loud in my ears.
“F*ck—Julia—” I hissed, voice cracking between heat and hellfire.
She didn’t stop.
Didn’t pause.
Her pace quickened just enough, her rhythm perfect, divine in its own way.
Her hand reached up and pressed flat against my abdomen, grounding me again. Her fingers splayed out like she was claiming me. As if to say…
“You’re not falling apart. I’ve got you.”
She did.
I couldn’t think. Could barely see.
My body trembled under her. My core was screaming.
Not in pain.
In recognition.
Of who I was. Of who I’d been. Of the devil still inside me.
And that devil?
He was howling. Awake. Hungry. Home.
I laughed—just once. Sharp. Low. Ragged.
Because yeah.
This. This was what I needed.
A reckoning. A reminder.
Not of lust.
But of who the fuck I am.
The Wrath Lord. The Devil of Shadows. The storm that burned kingdoms and bent fate.
And Julia?
She never bowed.
She knelt because she wanted to.
She touched because she chose to.
And when she finally pulled back just slightly, her lips swollen, breath fogging warm against my skin, she looked up at me—not submissive, not small.
But like the only woman in all the realms who could handle what I really was.
Her voice was hoarse, flushed with exertion and defiance.
“Welcome back,” she whispered.
And just like that…
I breathed again.
The world steadied.
Not softened. Not healed. Just… steadied.
I looked down at her—those lips flushed from devotion, her breath still uneven, her eyes glowing with something fierce and hot and unapologetically hers.
Not a servant.
Not a follower.
But a woman who could take the full weight of what I was and dare me to give more.
And I was so tired of pretending to be less.
The grin returned.
Not the polite smile. Not the fake, socially-adjusted smirk I used in the academy halls.
The real one.
The wicked one.
The grin that cracked kingdoms.
I leaned in, letting my breath ghost over her lips before I kissed her.
Hard.
Not gentle. Not grateful.
But devouring.
Like I’d just remembered I was built for hunger.
Like I wanted to drink the part of her that had dared to carry me when I forgot how to stand.
Her body pressed up into mine as my mouth claimed hers. Her moan—sweet and sultry—was swallowed between our lips, her fingers fisting the front of my shirt like she needed me as much as I needed her.
My hands slid down her back, over the curve of her spine, anchoring us together with a growl low in my throat. I broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against her lips.
“Strip.”
It wasn’t a request.
She stilled.
Then—smiled.
Not a cute little blush-and-turn-away smile.
No.
Julia smiled like sin incarnate.
Like she’d been waiting for me to wake up.
She stood slowly, her hair falling in waves as she rose to her full height.
And she performed.
She started with her blouse, fingers slipping the buttons free one by one, revealing soft skin, smooth collarbones, a hint of black lace underneath.
Her blouse slid off her shoulders.
She didn’t rush.
Didn’t look away.
Her eyes stayed on me—pinning me, provoking me.
Challenging me.
She stepped out of her pants next, hips swaying with each slow movement. Her underwear clung like an afterthought, sheer and teasing. When she hooked her thumbs into the waistband and dragged them down, she didn’t break eye contact for even a breath.
By the time she was bare before me, I was already gone.
Gone in that headspace that didn’t belong to mortals.
Gone in that part of me I’d kept on a leash.
She didn’t cower. Didn’t fidget.
She owned the moment.
Then she walked back to me—naked, flushed—and slid herself into my lap like a queen claiming her throne. Her thighs cradled me, heat against heat, and her hands found my chest, slowly unbuttoning what was left of my shirt.
Her fingers brushed over my skin.
And then?
She pinched my chin.
Firm. Sharp. Just enough to make my head snap back to her, eyes locked.
“No distractions,” she murmured. “Only me.”
And it worked.