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Start to raise my wedding dress.
Then I stop, blink self-consciously, glance over at the six gaping mafia thugs, then back at Ralph.
“Not with them watching,” I say softly, flashing a shy trembling smile at Ralph, praying I can pull this off. Ralph isn’t an idiot. He can’t think I love him or actually want to be with him. But he's hard and heavy in his pants, that need to possess burning in his caveman core. And there’s no denying that I’m wet and aroused, my cheeks flush and rosy, my pussy plump and primed in my panties. My body is reacting to the crackling sexual energy in the room, the wild possessiveness of two alpha beasts with hard cocks yearning to fill me. Of course, my heart only wants Zedd, but the situation has also awoken the primitive female in me just like it’s turned these two men into panting beasts. “I’m still a princess, Ralph. And you’re Don Romero. You want your men to watch you fuck me?”
Ralph’s body tightens. He’s in a tailored black Italian funeral suit, crisp white silk shirt, no tie, no jacket. His crotch is obscenely filled out, a massive peak of cock straining at the fabric. His throat moves as he swallows, then he grunts and glances towards his men who are still standing watch over my Zedd.
“Tie him to that chair over by the wall,” Ralph says, gesturing towards Zedd, then nodding towards the door. “Then get out. All of you. I don’t need you guys jerking off to the sight of my princess’s pussy.”
The soldiers hesitate, then two of them grab Zedd by the arms, drag him to his feet. Another thug leaves the room for a moment, comes back with a spool of synthetic rope.
Soon Zedd is tied to the heavy wooden chair set against the dark red bedroom wall. The blood from his broken nose is drying and forming a dark crust, making him look like some kind of monster.
But his eyes still burn with the man in him.
My man.
“Boss, listen, we can’t leave you alone in here with them,” says one of Ralph’s men. “At least let two of us stay in the room while you do whatever you need to do.”
Ralph chuckles scornfully. “What, you want to see my dick? Is that what you want, you fucking pervert? Get the hell out of here before I shove my gun back down your throat and pull the fucking trigger this time.”
The man’s face darkens. He rubs his eyes, then sighs. He walks over to Zedd in the chair, checks the knots to make sure they’re tight, then leaves the room along with the rest of Romero’s thugs. The door closes behind them, and now Ralph turns back to me.
“All right, Princess,” he whispers, unbuckling his leather belt, sliding it out from the loops, then unbuttoning and unzipping. His tailored black pants drop to the floor, and he steps out of them while pulling his white shirt off over his head and tossing it away.
Now he’s wearing black silk boxer-briefs, bulging monstrously at the crotch. He’s nowhere near as muscular as Zedd, but Ralph is still lean and fit, with tight pectorals and a six-pack of hard abdomen muscles. He rubs his bulge vigorously through his underwear, then gestures with his head towards me.
“I asked you to lift up your wedding dress and show me the panties you chose for our wedding night,” he snarls, still rubbing his bulge, now pushing his briefs down until his cock springs out, long and hard, not as thick as Zedd’s but still big and heavy, with a dark red bulb gleaming with pre-cum. “Don’t make me ask again, Princess.”
From the corner of my eye I see Zedd’s neck thicken as he strains at his bonds. Fresh blood oozes out of his broken nose from the effort, but he can’t summon the strength to rip through knots of synthetic rope.
Not yet, at least.
Now my mind spins through all those stories of people summoning superhuman strength when something really important is on the line.
When something precious is in danger.
When something they love is at risk.
Like a mother lifting up a car to save her child, soldiers taking multiple bullets and still fighting for their brothers. There’s no doubt these things actually happened, even though no scientist can explain it.
But right now I understand it.
I understand that intense emotion based in love can transcend physical reality, which means it can transcend the ordinary laws of physics, allow a hundred-pound mother to lift a thousand-pound car to save her toddler, allow a soldier to take three bullets to the heart but keep charging.
Allow my man to break free to save his woman.
By combining the power of sex and violence, the need to possess and the need to destroy, the need to claim and the need to conquer.
The need to protect what’s his.
To take what’s his.
So now I lift my wedding dress up over my hips, slowly push down my virgin-white panties, feeling the entire universe shift as Ralph’s cock flexes and Zedd’s body strains and the scent of my sex fills the room.
“Oh, fuck,” Ralph groans, fisting his cock and staggering towards the bed. “I’ve never been so hard in my life, never wanted to fuck a woman as bad as this. Your photographs don’t do you justice, Princess. There’s something about you in the flesh that gets me dangerously aroused, like I need to possess you, own you, fill you, fuck you.”
“No!” roars Zedd, struggling wildly against his bonds, the heavy chair hammering against the wall as he thrashes and flails, his broken nose gushing blood down his lips and chin. “Don’t you fucking touch her, you piece of shit. No. No.No!”
