Page 81 of Broken Vows

“That’s right, my dirty, beautiful girl. You know you want this.” He reaches under my dress and inside my panties and I whimper. His touch is rough and demanding and so fucking good. “Tell me who this belongs to.”

Mmmm… My legs quiver. This is wrong… so, so wrong. We’re in his bedroom at his parents’ house. There are staff and people… and… ohhhh… his grip tightens on my pussy and my breath locks in my throat.

“Tell me who owns this beautiful fucking cunt,” he says with a rasped, throaty breath as his palm grinds into me. “Say it.”

Need and heat ripples through me. I reach behind me to grip his legs and push him harder into me, shamelessly grinding into his length. My thong is already wet, filled with my unabashed arousal. My body begs to be filled, but we shouldn’t… His hand slides up to my neck and he squeezes. “Fucking tell me.”

Hot, erotic fear tears through me. His hold on my throat tightens enough where I can feel my pulse thud against his palm. “You…” I stammer, breathless from restricted air and dizzy with desire. “It belongs to you.”

“That’s my good fucking girl.” He drops his hands and swings me to face him. Even in the dim light, I can see his eyes darken with a look that sends me stumbling back until I hit the bed. “Lift up your dress and show me your perfect tight pussy.”

A hard swallow rolls through my tender throat. I bunch the fabric in my palm, until I expose my white lace fabric.

A wolfish grin forms, and he licks his lips. “Mmm… so beautiful…” he growls. “Sit on the bed, spread your legs, and show me what’s mine.”

Like I’m possessed, my body shivers as I slide back on the bed, dangle my legs off the mattress and tug my panties to the side.

“Wider.”

I spread my legs farther and tug. I hear him move towards me before I feel him pulling me onto my feet and flipping me over. I brace my palms on the mattress as air rips from my lungs. A belt buckle unclasping and zipper being pulled is the only sound before he yanks my panties down to my knees and slams into me so hard I’m lifted onto my tiptoes. The impact crushes my insides, but the pain is so good, so deep, and I want more. He pulls completely out and does it again. The single, brutal thrust is raw and possessive. He’s claiming me. Marking me. And God, I want to be marked and scarred and branded. I want to keep him with me, etched into my soul, feel him from the inside forever. One more time, all the way out, and he crashes back into me with such ruthless force my body lurches forward.

“Oh God, yes… more…”

And then, he moves. Fast, hard, carnal. “That’s right, fuck… take this cock. This beautiful fucking cunt is mine. Do you hear me? It belongs to me.” His words are as harsh as his movements and my ass slaps against him. “Stick your ass out more. Higher. That’s right, baby… Oh… right there, right fucking there. You know exactly how to take me, don’t you? Good girl. Such a good fucking girl.” He fucks me with a frenzied possessiveness. With a raw savageness. Like a man possessed. Over and over, he pounds. My head wildly jars with each thrust. His fingers dig into my hips. Guttural moans and screams echo in the room. Dizzying stars fill my vision. My breath seizes and locks as he keeps going, furious and unrestrained. I grip the bed, the comforter, anything in reach, but I’m losing balance, losing air, and it’s so fucking good.

“Give it to me, give it all to me,” I demand with a thick, husky breath. “Show me what you can do. I want you to prove that you fucking own me.”

He perches my ass and rails into me. Frenzied. Frantic. Unhinged. My heartbeat thunders against my chest. Choked cries rush from my mouth. He pushes into me, pumping more and more until my body, my entire being, trembles as urgency builds. I want him to keep going, to never stop, to brand me and bruise me and own me. I want the pain, the break, the way he’ll rebuild me. “Fuck, yes, right there…” I scream and everything in me clenches and shakes, ravaging me with a rattled sob. His cock throbs inside of me and he collapses against my back as the pulses continue, as his warm cum fills my insides and slides down my thighs. He stays there, holding me, pulsing, his heart beating so fast I can feel it on my back.

When his cock stops throbbing, he pulls out but pushes me onto the bed and puts his thumb inside me. “Keep it in you. Absorb me,” he says against my ear as his thumb stays in me. “And know that you will always belong to me.”

35 Lexie

“So, do I owe you my left or right kidney for covering me at that Boston wedding?” Justin asks as he steps next to me in the breakroom.

“Ah, welcome back!” I hop up from the table. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen him and I give him the gentlest hug I can muster after his appendicitis surgery. “I missed you.”

“Same,” he says, easing gingerly into the chair. Even though we’ve texted almost every day, he didn’t want any visitors while recovering. I notice he’s a little thinner, a little paler—but his golden smile is still there. “All right,” he adds, grinning. “Catch me up. What did I miss?”

If he only knew.

I wish I could tell Justin everything. My God would my best friend grab a bowl of popcorn and eat this up like he was watching one of his reality shows. I hate lying to him. Hate. It. But instead, I weave as much truth as I can into my story and pray that lying by omission counts as a forgivable best friend sin.

Over the past two nights, Theo and I have talked at length about when the details will finally be settled—when we won’t have to hide anymore. It’s not that I need some sort of grand, public declaration that he’s mine. I just want to have an ordinary relationship, one where I can hold his hand on the sidewalk or kiss him at dinner in public without feeling like we’re living in shame.

I’m trying—really trying—not to be paranoid and clingy, but I can’t quiet the worry. I have no control over the timeline, but what I do realize is that the longer the wedding charade continues, the more believable it looks as last-minute cold feet and doesn’t raise suspicion. It also doesn’t hurt that extending the withdrawal date means our company retains more of its fees.

And if I’m being honest, part of me is banking on Sydney seeing the sheer amount of work I’ve poured into making this wedding perfect—and it might be enough for her to still consider my promotion.

But still… my gut knots.

“Lexie?” Justin says, waving a hand in front of me, trying to grab my attention. “The wedding?”

“Oh sorry, my mind was elsewhere. Ah… It was good,” I say avoiding his eyes. I can’t tell him that I took a client to the wedding, even if he did show up unannounced. I definitely can’t tell him I crossed every professional line imaginable and snuck away to have mind-blowing sex with the very client whose wedding I’m in charge of.

A piece of me still feels like I’m living in a dream that’s set to end in seven weeks. I know the crash is looming—there’s a high chance my world will implode and leave me broken. For once in my life, I’m trying to ignore that and simply enjoy being wanted and worshipped.

I don’t come from a billionaire family like Annabelle, so when Theo tells me the logistics around cancelling the wedding are taking longer than expected, I want to believe him. But in the quiet moments, the doubt creeps in, reminding me of how much I stand to lose if I’m wrong.