Stolen on My Wedding Day {I}

CHAPTER ONE

“You’re dripping for me already, Mrs. Perfect Wife… and your husband is still out there promising you forever.”

Damien’s low, mocking growl vibrated against my ear the second his strong hand clamped around my wrist in the glittering ballroom.

My heart slammed against my ribs as champagne glasses clinked and laughter swirled around us like nothing was wrong.

I was supposed to be celebrating. I had just married Mark. Yet here I was, being dragged through a side door by the one man who could ruin everything with a single sentence.

“Damien, stop—” I hissed, but he didn’t. He shoved me into the private bridal bathroom and slammed the lock with a loud, final click.

The heavy scent of white roses still clung to my veil, but all I could smell now was him dark cologne, raw masculinity, and pure sin.

“It’s my fucking wedding day!” I whispered furiously, backing up until my hips hit the cold marble sink.

My white gown rustled loudly, the layers of silk and tulle suddenly feeling like a ridiculous cage. “You weren’t even invited. Get out before someone sees us!”

Damien stepped closer, crowding me against the counter, his tall, powerful body radiating heat.

That arrogant, devilish smirk curved his lips as his dark eyes raked over me from head to toe. “You look like sin wrapped in white, Soph. But we both know this pretty dress belongs on the floor while I fuck you senseless.”

My breath caught. Heat flooded between my thighs even as shame burned my cheeks. “Mark is right outside giving his speech. If he finds us—”

“Then he’ll learn every filthy thing you let me do to you while you were still pretending to love him,”

Damien cut in, voice rough and low.

He dropped to his knees right there on the polished tile, eyes never leaving mine. “One last taste, baby. Before you pretend to be his perfect little wife for the rest of your life.”

My hands gripped the edge of the sink so hard my knuckles turned white. “No. Damien, please—I’m married now. This is wrong.”

“Wrong?” He laughed darkly, shoving the heavy layers of my wedding gown up my thighs with rough, impatient hands.

The expensive fabric bunched around my waist. “You’re dripping already, Soph. I can smell how wet you are for me.”

With one sharp tug, he ripped my delicate white lace panties to the side. Cool air hit my exposed, aching pussy, making me shiver.

Then his mouth was on me—hot, greedy, and merciless.

“Oh fuck!” I gasped, my head falling back against the mirror.

Damien devoured me like a man starved.

His tongue lashed my swollen clit with brutal precision, sucking hard before plunging deep inside my slick folds.

Wet, obscene sounds filled the small bathroom as he licked and slurped, two thick fingers sliding into me without warning, curling viciously against my G-spot.

“You taste even sweeter on your wedding day,” he growled against my pussy, the vibration sending shocks through my thighs. “Does your husband eat this perfect cunt like I do? Does he make you soak his face?”

“Shut up—ahh!” I moaned, biting down hard on the edge of my veil to muffle the cries tearing from my throat.

My hips bucked involuntarily against his mouth.

He pulled back just enough to look up at me, lips shiny with my juices, eyes blazing with dark hunger. “Answer me, Sophia. Does he make you come this fast?

Or do you lie there thinking about my tongue while he fumbles between your legs?”

Tears of shame and overwhelming pleasure stung my eyes. “No… God, no—he doesn’t. But this is crazy. We have to stop!”

“Stop?” Damien chuckled, then dove back in, sucking my clit between his lips while his fingers fucked me harder, faster. “Your pussy is clenching around my fingers like it’s starving for cock.

You hate how much you still need me, don’t you?”

My legs trembled violently. The pleasure coiled tight and hot in my belly, building at terrifying speed.

I gripped his hair, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

“Damien… I’m going to—fuck, I’m coming!” I whimpered.

“Come for me, you cheating little bride,” he demanded, tongue flicking relentlessly. “Come on my tongue while your husband is out there promising forever to a woman who’s dripping for her ex.”

The orgasm crashed over me like a freight train.

I screamed into my veil, the fabric barely muffling the raw, broken sounds as my body convulsed.

My pussy gushed against his mouth, thighs clamping around his head while wave after wave of blinding pleasure ripped through me.

Damien didn’t stop—he licked and sucked every drop, groaning like he was addicted, drawing out my climax until my knees buckled.

When he finally rose to his feet, wiping his glistening mouth with the back of his hand, I was shaking, flushed, panting, my wedding dress wrinkled and my veil crooked.

“You bastard,” I whispered, voice shaky. But my traitorous eyes dropped to the massive bulge straining against his trousers. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He pressed against me, letting me feel how hard and thick he was. “You hate how much your body still belongs to

me. Tell me, Soph—does Mark’s cock make you this wet?

Does it stretch this greedy little pussy the way mine does?”

I pushed weakly at his chest, but my fingers curled into his shirt instead. “Stop talking like that…”

Damien leaned in, lips brushing my ear as he ground his erection against my thigh. “I’m not done with you. Not even close.

I want to bend you over this sink, flip up that virgin-white dress, and fuck you raw until you’re begging for my cum.”

A loud, urgent knock shattered the moment.

“Sophia? Honey, are you okay in there?”