She stared at herself in the mirror, her hands brushing down the fitted bodice of the dress for the third time in five minutes. It hugged her perfectly—cinched at the waist, flaring at the hips, the back open and dramatic, a trail of satin flowing behind her like liquid light.
But all she could feel was the ache between her legs.
The soreness still pulsing in her cunt.
The weight of Xavier’s c*m still sliding out of her with every slow breath.
She didn’t wear panties.
He hadn’t let her.
And now she stood here, soaked in silk and sin, her skin buzzing like a live wire, as if the wedding hadn’t even started and she was already owned.
Her voice cracked in the quiet.
“Look at you…” she whispered to her reflection, eyes glossing. “From strip malls to marble halls. From scraping to survi
