Victor’s grip on my wrist is iron as he pulls me from the wine cellar’s wreckage straight into the master bedroom.
The king bed dominates the room—dark silk sheets already rumpled from our earlier round, moonlight slicing through the windows.
He shoves me onto the mattress on my back, climbs over me, and pins my wrists above my head with one hand.
His c**k is rock-hard again, slapping heavy against my stomach.
“Look at you,” he rasps, eyes raking over my marked body—red handprints on my ass, c*m drying on my thighs, p***y swollen and glistening.
“My son’s bride, dripping for Daddy’s c**k hours before the wedding.”
I arch up, desperate. “Please, Daddy—f**k me again. I need it so bad.”
He smirks, releases my wrists, and grabs my ankles instead spreading me wide, folding my legs back
