Bound by the Larsen kings

Chapter 1

Keresse

“What the fuck is happening here!” A scream tore through my lungs as I stared at the scene before me.

“K-Keresse—it’s not…” My palm connected hard with his face. The slap echoed in the bridal suite. I turned my gaze to my sister, standing there in her bridesmaid dress, lipstick smudged, hair messed up exactly like his.

“You’re sleeping with the man I’m supposed to marry on my wedding day! Elara, you’re my fucking sister!” I shrieked, tears burning my eyes.

“K-keresse, i-i—”

“You what? Elara, I raised you! Every single thing you are today, I did! I made you, and this is how you choose to pay me? By sleeping with him?” Tears rolled down my face uncontrollably while she stared back at me with cold indifference.

“I didn’t ask you to,” she blurted.

My palm cracked against her face hard, shoving it sideways. The sound was sickeningly satisfying.

“And you,” I said, staring at his face, “I should have known better than to trust a man who had me pay for every fucking thing. I paid for this wedding, remember?”

“I’m sorry, Keresse. It just… happened. We’re in love.”

I laughed. The sound came out broken and ugly. “Get out. Both of you. Now.”

They left. I stood there in my white gown, chest heaving, then forced myself out to the main hall where guests were seated and whispering. Heads turned. Phones were already recording.

“The wedding is cancelled,” I announced, voice ringing clear despite the tears. “My groom ran off with my sister. Enjoy the open bar on me.” Gasps and murmurs erupted, but I turned on my heel and walked out, leaving the ruined day behind.

I went home, locked the door, and didn’t open it for two days. No food. No water. Just darkness, rage, and the crushing weight of betrayal. My phone stayed off. The world could burn.

On the third day, my best friend Mia pounded on the door until I cracked it open. “Keresse Voss, you are not dying in there over that trash. We’re going out. Club. Now. Shower and get dressed or I’m dragging you in your robe.”

I let her pull me along. Numb, I threw on the sluttiest thing in my closet—a tight tank top and a tiny skirt that barely covered anything. We hit Eclipse, the city’s hottest club, and I drank like I wanted to forget my own name. Shots burned down my throat. The music pulsed through my veins.

I stumbled toward the restroom, pushing open a door that wasn’t the ladies’. And there he was.

Rhysand.

Tall, dark-haired, devastatingly handsome in a black shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He stood at the urinal, magnificent cock in hand—thick, long, veined, already half-hard. I froze, staring. He didn’t flinch or cover up immediately. Instead, he took his time, those intense eyes locking onto mine as he slowly tucked himself away and zipped up with deliberate calm.

“You lost, sweetheart?” His voice was low, rough velvet.

Heat flooded my body. Alcohol and pain made me reckless. “Fuck me,” I blurted. I yanked at my tank top, pulling it down so half my breasts spilled out, nipples hardening in the cool air. My skirt rode up dangerously; one bend and my ass would be fully on display. “I saw that cock. I want it.”

Rhysand’s gaze darkened, raking over my exposed skin. “I don’t fuck drunk women.”

“Please,” I whispered, stepping closer, pressing my body against his. My hand brushed the growing bulge in his pants. “I need to feel something other than this emptiness. Just one night. Use me.”

He exhaled sharply, jaw tight, but the hunger in his eyes won. “You’re going to regret this tomorrow.” Still, he let me pull him into a private VIP room down the hall.

The door barely clicked shut before I dropped to my knees, fingers trembling with need as I pulled his belt open and yanked his pants down. His cock sprang free—thick, heavy, pulsing. Up close it was even more impressive, the head glistening. I wrapped both hands around the base, stroking the velvet steel length, then leaned in and took him into my mouth.

I swirled my tongue around the head, tasting the salty precum, then sank deeper, relaxing my throat to take as much of him as I could. He groaned, fingers threading through my hair. “Fuck, just like that.” I bobbed my head, sucking hard, hollowing my cheeks while my tongue worked the underside. Saliva dripped down my chin as I took him deeper, gagging slightly when he hit the back of my throat, but I didn’t stop. I worshipped him—licking, sucking, stroking the part I couldn’t fit, moaning around his thickness. His hips bucked, fucking my mouth with controlled thrusts, the wet sounds filthy and loud in the small room.

“Enough,” he growled suddenly, pulling me up. He spun me around, bending me over the couch. My skirt flipped up, exposing everything. With one powerful thrust he buried himself inside me to the hilt.

I cried out at the stretch, the burning fullness. He was huge, splitting me open, but the pain melted into blinding pleasure. Rhysand gripped my hips hard, pounding into me with deep, ruthless strokes. Each thrust slammed against that perfect spot, his balls slapping against me. “So fucking tight,” he grunted, one hand reaching around to pinch my nipple. I pushed back against him, desperate, drunk on the sensation of being claimed so completely.

He fucked me harder, faster, the wet slap of skin echoing. My orgasm crashed over me without warning, walls clenching around his cock as I screamed. He followed with a low groan, burying himself deep and spilling inside me in hot pulses.

We stayed locked together, breathing hard.

If one betrayal could destroy me, maybe this stranger—this god with a cock like sin—could make me feel alive again.

But as the haze cleared slightly, I realized I still didn’t know his last name.