He walked out, leaving the door still half-open. I stayed on my knees, trembling, cunt throbbing, listening to him praise my sister’s dress in the next room. The same hands that had just held my head down were now adjusting the strap of her gown. The same c**k that had just used my throat was going to be inside her later tonight if she let him.
I hated her for it. I hated myself more.
When he finally came back, Mia was still in the bedroom, chatting on the phone to her bridesmaid. Ronan closed the bathroom door this time, locked it, and looked at me like he owned every filthy inch.
“Stand up. Turn around. Hands on the sink.”
I obeyed. The mirror showed everything: my smeared makeup, the red marks on my throat, the way my dress was still hiked up from when I’d first dropped to my knees.
