He’s hot and he’s handsome. He’s cornered me at my own wedding, pulling me into an empty room and pinning me up against the wall. I want this but there is just one problem: he isn’t the groom, he’s the best man.
It all started at my bachelorette party. We were out at a club and I was getting some air when he came to me, my husband’s best friend.
He said he was there by coincidence and offered to be my chaperone for the night. He knew I was uncomfortable in places like this, and it was nice to have someone by my side I actually liked.
And when we were on the dance floor it was like the whole world melted away. It was like I finally realized who he was and finally knew what he could offer to me. Something hard and physical. Something so intense it spoke to a darkness in my soul.
We haven’t stopped talking since that night, but we haven’t crossed any real lines yet. I could pass this all off as innocent flirting, just a bit of pre-wedding jitters.
But I know he’s just holding out for the right moment. I know that soon he will have me.
It’s on my wedding day that he makes his move. Pulling me away from the crowds and into someplace quiet for just the two of us. With a glance I know that he’s going to have me. With a beat of my heart I know that I’m going to give myself to him.
Because I only feel alive when I’m with him. He’s the only one who can stoke the fires of my heart and my body.
It’s so wrong but it feels so right. And I can’t wait another moment.
Excerpt
There always seems to be a moment between the ceremony and everything else that follows. Pictures and all that happen before the celebration, but before then the wedding party gathers in a quiet space all their own and they blow off the steam of what just happened.
I felt excluded, all of them close and chattering away and talking about how lovely it all was while they snapped candid pictures of themselves sipping on cocktails.
It seemed so droll to me, so very unlike me. I’d been needed to get some space and get some air for so long so I stepped out onto the balcony of the country mansion that Scott had rented for our wedding ceremony and reception, and I took in great gulps of air while looking over the fields of flowers that stretched in all directions.
I could feel him, feel him step out onto the balcony with me. He seemed to suck all of the air out of the world and make me dizzy and I knew that it was going to happen.
It was going to happen now.
He moved in behind, standing off and to the side. I found that I was holding my breath, the bodice of my dress suffocating me far less than the mere presence of him.
“I knew I’d find you out here,” he said, but I didn’t hear that I heard his words to me over the past few weeks. Instead he was telling me, “I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”
“I needed some air,” I replied, “That whole ceremony was intense.”
“You looked beautiful,” he told me, but I heard instead, “I want to see you beg for me. I want to watch you tear your clothing from your body and pull my hands to your skin.”
I couldn’t speak. All I could do was listen as his steps drew closer.
“It was a lovely ceremony,” he lied, and I heard, “I’m going to make you mine. You’ll be married to him but you’ll belong to me forever. I’m going to make you crave me, worship me. Not as a partner but as a master. I’ll have you on your knees for me, begging me for more.”
I turned and looked at him, his presence so dark and so close to me. The contrast of him stark in comparison to me, in comparison to Scott, in comparison to everyone I’ve ever known.
He was a terrible man. An asshole and a user. He’d wormed his way into the lives of these people and they loved him for it.
And he would be my ruin. He would do it just because he could. He would have me any way that he wanted me and I wouldn’t be able to deny him.
Because I knew that I needed him, that some dark and broken piece inside of me craved the depravity of him. Knowing it was wrong all along but going along with it anyways. Because I needed it. Because even if it hurt, it would hurt so good.
Reaching a hand out he stroked my cheek and I trembled. I shook so violently that my hands clenched the railing to keep myself upright. Over the railing people were gathered after the ceremony, mingling and talking and enjoying their cocktails. Through the door on the other side of the balcony the glass was clear and open, my new husband and all of his friends chatting and preparing for the photos to come.
Any one of them could look at this moment and see what was about to happen. Any one of them could see how I felt. Any one of them could know what I was about to do.
And what he was about to do to me.
“Scott is a lucky man,” Alexander said, stepping in so close to me that I could feel his breath on my skin, “But I’m luckier. He gets to have you as his darling wife and partner. I get to have you as my supplicating whore.”