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I glance at the clock again. Fourteen minutes to go before Father knocks on the door to lead me down the aisle to my fate. My bridesmaids—who are all part of my personal staff since I have no real friends—are outside in the anteroom. I told them to leave me alone for the last hour of my freedom.
Not sure why.
After all, Zedd isn’t crazy enough to—
And then comes the knock on the window overlooking a private garden.
My heart suddenly comes to life with wild hope, desperate joy.
It’s Zedd, and I rush over to the window, pushing it up, stepping back as he clambers into my bridal chamber.
But my excitement turns to dread when I see Zedd’s face.
Eyes red and bloodshot, wild with violence, manic with murder.
He hasn’t slept, hasn’t eaten, hasn’t even changed out of the clothes he wore to my room last night. The smell of my sex is all over his grizzled face from when he’d eaten my pussy like a starving animal last night, like he wanted to consume me entirely, take me into his belly so nobody else could ever get close.
“Ohmygod, Zedd!” My words barely make their way out because of the terror constricting my throat. “Why are you here? You can’t seriously be thinking about killing Ralph in front of a thousand guests and a hundred armed mafia soldiers.”
He comes to me, takes me into his arms, tries to kiss my painted lips. But I resist, turning my face away even though it’s the most difficult thing I’ve had to do in my young life.
“No,” I whisper urgently. “They’ll kill you if you walk out there looking like this, Zedd. Anyone can see the murder in your eyes, feel it in your dark energy. Go, Zedd. Please. It’s going to be hard enough for me as it is. But at least if you’re alive, I can survive with the hope that someday we’ll be together, even if it’s when we’re both old and wrinkled. Hope will keep me alive. But I won’t survive if you’re dead, Zedd. Please go. For me. I want you to go.”
“No, you don’t.” Zedd tries to kiss me again, this time grabbing the back of my head and turning me roughly towards him. I close my eyes, knowing that if I look upon his face I’ll melt, break, shatter. “You want me to stay. You want me to kill him. Kill them all. Your fiancé, your father, your maids, your cooks, the guests, the bridesmaids, the priest, the wedding planners, even the fucking pigeons waiting to gorge themselves on rice. You want me to kill them all and claim you right out there under the bright noonday sun, rivers of fresh blood flowing around us like champagne, groans of people dying playing our song as I fuck you face-down in your own filthy wedding cake.”
My mind almost breaks when I see the deranged glint in Zedd’s eyes. For three weeks we’ve played with fantasies that have taken us both to very dark places, that surreal space which Zedd explained is where sex and violence meet, the lines blurring in a way that can easily spiral out of control without the balancing power of true love to keep everything in the realm of fantasy and not bleed through into reality.
Except Zedd’s mind is breaking from the knowledge that I’m so close to becoming another man’s wife. He knows that my heart will always be his, knows that my pussy is his too, will always be his in that dimension where our love exists for eternity. But there’s too much possessive fire in him for his body to back down. He’s a killer, and the violence is winning right now, taking over his will, turning his obsession into a weapon that’s about to self-destruct.
“Please,” I whisper as Zedd kisses me roughly on the mouth, then turns and makes for the door. I grab him around the waist, drop to my knees, lock my arms around his thighs so he can’t walk out there to certain death.
Suddenly I’m face-to-face with his crotch. His bulge is about as big as my head, and immediately my body tells me what I have to do to take the edge off, swing the balance from violence back to sex.
There isn’t time to undress and let Zedd fuck me before Father knocks at the door to lead me down the aisle. So as Zedd starts to peel me off his legs, I unzip him and reach for his cock and pull it out and close my lips around his thick shaft, holding on to his belt with one hand, gripping his balls with the other, sucking with everything I have, all my sex, all my love, all my fire, all my fury.
“Oh, fuck, baby.” Zedd groans as he stumbles back, then slides both hands into my hair, pushing my hairpins into my scalp as my clean white wedding veil goes askew while I bob back and forth, furiously sucking Zedd’s dick as the clock ticks down to my wedding vows. “Oh, fuck, Princess, you look so hot in that wedding dress, your hair all done up. That’s it, suck me harder so I come fast. Fuck, I’m going to come in your hair, all over your face so everyone knows you’re mine when you walk out there all sticky and sweet, claimed by my semen, marked by my seed. That’s it, baby, open your throat like I taught you, fuck, you’re so good, so perfect, those lips are mine, Ralph Romero won’t even get to kiss them before I end him, before I shoot him in the back of the head then cut his dick off and shove it down his damn—”
“No!” I gurgle, pulling out well before that now-familiar flex which signals he’s about to explode. “No, Zedd. Look at me. Look at me, baby.”
Zedd growls in anger at my sudden withdrawal. He grabs my head and tries to shove his cock back into my mouth so he can fuck it like he’s done so many times these past twenty-one days, forcing me to deep-throat him until I gag, sometimes pouring himself down my throat, other times coming all over my neck and nipples, painting my belly and pussy like a mad artist signing his work.
I’ve loved all of it, and the truth is the idea of walking out there covered in my man’s seed makes me wet in the filthiest way. But right now I’m playing this game for his life. Zedd has lost his grip on what’s fantasy and what’s real, and I have to stay strong and bring him back into balance with my love, stand him down long enough to save his life.
“Zedd, look at me,” I plead from my knees, using both hands to hold his thick long cock even as he bucks his hips in a desperate attempt to jerk himself off and come all over my hair and face. But I need to make him come in my mouth. “Look at my lips, baby. See how wet they are? Now imagine coming into my mouth, filling me as I swallow. When Ralph kisses the bride he’s going to be tasting your seed, baby. He won’t understand what’s happening, but we’ll know, you’ll know, our bodies will know, our hearts will know. I’m yours, Zedd. I’ll always be yours. I’m your bride, not his. Your wife, not his.” I lick his throbbing cockhead, slowly take him back into my mouth, feeling his violence finally melting away as I give him my sex, give him my love, give him my throat, start sucking him again, sensing him flex now, that telltale sign which means he’s about to come, come on now, baby, fill me with your seed, that’s it, I’m open wide for you, always for you, forever for you.
And with a choking growl Zedd comes just as a knock sounds at the door.
My eyes flick open but I keep sucking, force my throat to stay open as I gulp down his thick seed, swallowing like a fish as Zedd staggers back against the half-open window, dragging me along with him, my head still attached to his cock, still sucking and swallowing like I want to drain him, take the flame of his violence and smother it with my love, save his life just like he’s saved mine, shown me parts of myself that no other man could safely expose, no other man could legitimately claim, no other man will ever truly own.
“I’m yours forever,” comes my wet whisper as I pull his dripping throbbing cock out of my panting mouth and hurriedly get up off my knees, pushing him towards the open window with reluctant urgency as the knock sounds again, the bell tolling for me to walk down the aisle to my fate. “Now, go, baby. I love you and I’ll always love you. So long as we’re both alive there’s still a chance fate will turn in our direction, Zedd. Have some faith. What we’ve shared the past three weeks has real power. Maybe the power to change destiny. But you have to go. Go. Just fuckinggo.”
Zedd stares into my eyes, that glint still there in his burning gaze. But it doesn’t have that same manic edge, and although I see the beast still roaring in him, some of its reckless power has been drained with the force of his climax, the spent seed that still swirls in the back of my throat, coats my tongue and teeth like armor against the looming kiss that seals my fate.
The knocks hammer at the door now, and Zedd kisses me one last time and then is gone, his big body disappearing out the window with the grace of a panther, the silence of a ghost.
Hurriedly I fix my hair and smooth out my veil, wipe my lips dry and re-apply my lipstick. Can’t hide the flush on my cheeks, but I look presentable enough that hopefully nobody will suspect the virgin bride was just down on her knees sucking cock while Father Dearest banged on the door and Loving Fiancé waited at the altar.
Except it’s not Father at the door.
