The Substitute Bride’s First Night

Celine’s POV

The ring on my finger didn’t belong to me.

My pulse thudded beneath layers of lace and silk as the priest’s voice echoed through the cathedral. Every eye in the pews was fixed on me—or rather, on the woman they thought I was.

Celeste Ward.

The perfect bride.

I forced a smile as the veil blurred my vision. My father’s words replayed in my head: You’ll wear her ring. You’ll walk down that aisle. No one will know.

And when I had asked, “And if they do?”

He’d looked so sure of himself when he replied, “You’ll make sure they don’t.”

Across from me, Lucien Devereux stood as still as carved marble—tailored black suit, cold eyes, a face that gave nothing away. He was the most breathtaking man I’d ever seen, with dark, clever eyes that made my nerves fray and my heart race. When he finally lifted his gaze to mine, my breath turned uneven, and I was suddenly thankful for the veil hiding my face.

Did he know? Could he tell I wasn’t her?

“Do you, Celeste Ward, take Lucien Devereux…”

The priest’s words dissolved into static. My hands trembled, my throat went dry. I could hear my own heartbeat louder than his voice. Lucien’s fingers brushed against mine as he reached for the ring—his touch confident, deliberate, terrifyingly calm. The contact sent a jolt through me, sharp enough to make me flinch inwardly.

“Do you?”

I swallowed hard, my tongue heavy as stone.

“I… do.”

The lie left my lips like a sin.

Lucien’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing. He simply slid the ring onto my finger—the same ring my sister should have worn.

Then he leaned closer, lifting my veil. His gaze lingered on me a moment too long, long enough for my palms to sweat. A faint, unreadable expression crossed his face—displeasure? Disbelief? I couldn’t tell, but in that second, panic twisted my stomach. He knows.

He’s seen through me, and if I had any sense, I’d start begging for my life right now. Maybe then he’d spare me.

But instead, to my shock, he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine.

My chest fluttered; my eyes shut on instinct. The crowd erupted in applause.

And just like that—

I was Mrs. Lucien Devereux.

Hours later, I started to realize that my sister’s relationship with this man hadn’t been nearly as perfect as the media had made it seem. Every news channel replayed our ceremony, calling it the wedding of the year, showing clips of us smiling like a fairy-tale couple.

But when the cameras turned off, reality set in.

Lucien hadn’t spoken a word to me since we left the cathedral. He’d ordered that I ride in a separate car halfway to his estate, and once there, he disappeared.

It’s been eight hours.

Now, alone in his mansion, I tried to convince myself that I was grateful for his absence. At least there was silence here—a strange, uneasy peace I hadn’t felt in years.

The house itself was enormous, echoing and cold, filled with wealth that couldn’t hide the emptiness underneath. Every marble surface reflected a version of me that wasn’t mine. I ran my hand over the smooth banister as I climbed the stairs to what was now our bedroom, though it felt like a stranger’s life I’d stumbled into.

The bed was soft, plush, so different from the cramped mattress in my small apartment. I lowered myself onto it and let my eyes flutter shut, praying that, just for tonight, the quiet would be enough to drown out the truth.

I was just starting to drift off when the door to my room flew open.

The sharp sound split the quiet, jolting me upright.

In the doorway stood Lucien Devereux—tall, impossibly composed, his presence commanding the room before he even moved. The dim light caught the sharp lines of his suit, the shadow cast across his face, the faint intensity in his dark eyes. He looked like he belonged to another world—untouchable, dangerous, and magnetic all at once.

“You’re here…” I stuttered, fumbling with the hem of my nightdress. “I didn’t think you’d—”

He took a slow step closer, and I could feel the space between us shrink, every instinct screaming to move, but my body refused. He exuded control, effortless and unnerving.

I froze, my breath catching. Every word trembled between us.

He tilted his head, studying me, and the silence stretched until it felt suffocating. My hands clenched at my sides. My heart thundered in my chest like a warning drum.

“You’re quiet,” he said, almost a growl. “Not what I expected from my bride.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s… been a long day,” I whispered. My voice sounded smaller than I wanted it to be, trembling at the weight in his gaze.

A faint, unreadable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hmm.” He stepped closer, and the air between us thickened with something unspoken. His eyes didn’t leave mine, sharp and calculating. Every second felt deliberate, controlled, heavy.

Then he paused, just a breath away. “You’ll learn what it means to be mine,” he murmured. The words brushed against me, soft but full of quiet authority and menace.

“Strip, wife.”

“What?” I asked as he started to pull off his jacket, then moved to the buttons on his dress shirt, his eyes pinned on me. My heart was hammering in my chest. I guess Mom’s lecture about Celeste must have been effective, because he seemed to believe I was her. But… is he really thinking about doing what I’m thinking he is?

I didn’t think about the fact that, as a couple, we’d have to…

“You’re not taking your clothes off? Need me to do that for you?” he asked—but it was a rhetorical question.

“Lucien I…” I stuttered when he tossed his shirt aside revealing his strong body. My throat went dry and a very hungry voice in my ached to feel those muscles on me. How could someone with a face like that—black hair, piercing grey eyes, and jaw so sharp it could cut glass—also have the body of a god?

How was that even fair to other men?

He took a step forward, and my senses scrambled. His hand tugged the strap of my nightdress, warm and firm against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine, exposing my shoulders as his lips brushed my bare neck, rough with stubble yet soft enough to make me gasp. The sound that left my lips was unholy, a tiny moan I couldn’t hold back, my cheeks flushing and stomach fluttering at the sensation.

He began to undress me, and my heart pounded so fast I thought he might hear it.

“Wait, Lucien, I—” I started, my fingers curling into the sheets and my toes flexing involuntarily as a shiver ran down my spine.

He pulled my dress down, holding me with that intense gaze.

“What is it?” His eyes were darker now, filled with want and lust. My voice caught as he pressed closer, his whispered words grazing my ear.

I wanted to say, I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this, but the thought disappeared as his hand slipped under my clothing, warm and firm against my skin. His fingers teased me through my panties and I shivered, my hips arching slightly without realizing it.

I shivered and rested my head against his chest, feeling the steady warmth and strength beneath me. His chest rose and fell with each measured breath. My fingers dug lightly into the fabric of the bed, and a flutter of heat pooled low. 

I was surprised at how much I wanted him, even though every thought told me I shouldn’t.

“What’s the need for this?” he growled, tugging at the fabric and pressing his strong fingers against me. Heat spread rapidly, and I shivered at the pressure. The friction of his touch made my thighs tremble slightly. “It’s just an obstruction,” he murmured, and the sound of his voice undid something deep inside me. I inched closer, pressing against him, my pulse racing and stomach fluttering with each deliberate touch.

“It’s just an obstruction,” he murmured, and the sound of his voice undid something deep inside me. I inched closer, wanting more, craving every touch.

I raised my head to meet his eyes, and the words that left my lips surprised even me.

“Lucien… take it off.”

His jaw tightened. Instead of removing it, he pushed the fabric aside with one finger, then slid two fingers inside me.

“Ah…” I gasped as his fingers moved with precision. My hands twisted in the sheets behind me as he sped up, pumping in and out.

“Ha… Lucien…” I moaned, and he pulled me closer, laying me flat on the bed. His hands pinned my arms above my head, then he returned to pleasuring me—fingers and tongue working in tandem, sending shivers through my body.

I shut my eyes, arching into him, overwhelmed by the sensation. I tried to arch further, to claim his mouth with my pussy, but his hands held me down, keeping me helpless under his control.

The press of his fingers and tongue sent shivers rippling through me. He gave me what I wanted—but on his terms. My toes flexed and my fingers dug into the sheets, and I couldn’t help the soft gasps that escaped me.

When he withdrew his fingers, a hollow ache left me, spreading through my core and making my thighs tremble. I almost cried from the sudden emptiness, my hips instinctively trying to follow the memory of his touch. He raised his head, and I longed for his lips, only for him to shove a finger into my mouth, warm and sweet, slightly choking me. My tongue pressed against him reflexively, and a shiver ran through me, my body still pulsing from the sensation. 

Then he repositioned me, holding my legs apart as he lowered his head between them.

“Lucien… please… fuck me.”

He smirked. I swallowed my words as he rose, and an instinctive thrill ran through me.

“Patience, wife. I will.”

He pulled down his pants, leaving only his briefs. My heart threatened to leap from my chest as he revealed himself, and he seemed to revel in my reaction.

He lowered onto me, stroking as he aligned with me, his warmth pressing against my heat. I stared at him, consumed by a burning desire, my pulse racing and breath catching with every movement he made. Then he thrust slowly into my pussy, and a shiver ran from my toes to the base of my spine. I wrapped my hands around his neck, gripping tightly, craving the full weight of him.

The slick friction of his body against mine sent tremors through my thighs, and the low groan that escaped my lips only fueled him. My stomach fluttered uncontrollably, and I felt my body tense, then melt with each thrust as he increased his pace.

My eyes shut as I threw my head back, moaning, my body trembling under the intensity of him. The bed creaked beneath us, every pulse and movement pressing heat into me. I could feel the slick friction of him sliding inside me, growing inside of me and a shiver ran through my spine with every thrust.

My hands dug into the sheets, nails leaving faint marks as my thighs quivered uncontrollably. My stomach fluttered, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps, and I felt my muscles tighten and release with each deliberate movement. Every press, every pull of his hips made a wave of warmth and pleasure spread through me, leaving me weak yet desperate for more. I loved every bit of the forbidden pleasure.

Having someone as powerful as him to myself was intoxicating. Celeste may have been the woman lucky enough to be his fiancée, but I was the one in his bed, the one he was fucking with such lustfulness and desire. The thought made my body arch even more, craving every inch, every motion, every heated moment he gave me. I needed all of him, even if only for the night.

He pulled out, letting the cold air tease me before wetting his fingers and rubbing my wet core with it. He flipped me onto my stomach, and I felt him behind me, dominant and unrelenting. He took off my panties and tossed them aside, then drove into me fully, and I screamed at the sensation.

“Lu…cien,” I gasped as he pounded me hard from behind, my breasts bouncing with the rhythm of his thrusts. My moans filled the room, mingling with his low, feral grunts. He was a force, he ravaged me like no one ever had, like a fucking beast of lust, and I could do nothing but yield.

Suddenly, he stopped. I craned my neck, wondering why, and he slammed back in with one powerful thrust. I cried out, tears stinging, overwhelmed by the mix of pain and ecstasy. His hands gripped my neck as he hovered above me, and I stared into his grey eyes, lost in lust and submission. His dick still deep inside me. My eyes fall as I feel myself stretch out.

“Look at me, wife.” I opened my eyes slowly. He moved slowly again—not thrusting, just moving inside me, filling me completely. My heavy eyelids threatened to fall shut, but I forced them open when his palm tightened slightly against my neck. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him even if I tried anyway.

“Fuck…” he growled, and my body responded instantly. I felt my squirt tracing his dick. He pulled out and plunged back in, and I moaned uncontrollably, my walls tightening around him. My hands left the sheets, pressing against him for relief, but he restrained me, maintaining complete control.

“Lucien… wait… please wait…” I gasped, but he continued, over and over, until I could barely breathe. Finally, when he thrust deep one last time, he filled me completely, leaving me trembling in his arms.

I sighed heavily, thinking this was the best sex I’d ever had in my life—and also realizing that I probably wouldn’t be walking properly for a while. The lingering warmth of him pressed against my skin, and the cool air brushing my back made me shiver lightly. I stayed sprawled out on the bed, smiling to myself, my fingers trailing over the soft sheets and my muscles slowly relaxing, still twitching from the intensity. The sounds of our breathing filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of him, sharp and intoxicating. My body throbbed with residual heat, and a lazy ache pooled low, reminding me of every inch of him I’d just felt.

The sound of low groans made my eyes fly open. Lucien was stroking his dick, and I raised a brow at him.

“It’s barely 10 p.m.,” he said, “we still have all night.”