All Chapters of WET and Ruined( collection of short sweet stories) : Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

**Sienna’s POVThe proposal happened in the middle of the campus quad at noon.Eli went down on one knee between the library and the coffee cart, holding a small open box with a thin silver ring that caught the sun. A few people stopped to watch. Someone actually clapped. He looked up at me with hopeful, nervous eyes and asked the question loud enough for the little audience to hear.“Will you marry me?”I stared at him.Eli was kind. He was safe. He had spent months being patient and polite and completely unaware that the reason I sometimes went quiet mid-conversation was because I was remembering the way my stepdad’s cock felt when he was buried deep and telling me I belonged to him. Eli didn’t know about the secrets, the bruises that faded too fast, the nights I came home already wet from a single text.I said yes.The word left my mouth before I could stop it—half confusion, half something uglier. Revenge, maybe. At the life I couldn’t have. At the man I couldn’t claim in public.

Clara’s POVThe reception hall glittered under strings of warm lights.Eli’s hand rested at the small of my back as we moved between tables, accepting congratulations, smiling for phone cameras, pretending the white dress wasn’t already marked by everything that had happened in the coat room an hour earlier. Dominic’s cum had slowed to a sticky reminder between my thighs. The vibrator was back inside me—cleaned, reseated, and switched to a low, continuous pulse that kept me wet and on edge while I played the perfect bride.Mom looked radiant.She had cried through the ceremony, cried through the photos, and was now moving through the reception with a champagne flute in one hand and a pride so visible it made my stomach twist. Every time she looked at me her eyes shone. She believed this was the beginning of my happy, ordinary life. She had no idea her husband had already fucked me in a coat room in this same building and left me full of him under the dress she had helped me choose.Do

Vera’s POV The conference room was cold and quiet. Eli sat on the opposite side of the long table with his lawyer, eyes fixed on the documents in front of him. He looked smaller than he had on the beach. Smaller than he had at the altar. The marriage had lasted eleven weeks. Eleven weeks of careful silences, of me coming home late with excuses that grew thinner every time, of him finding more evidence he didn’t want to understand until he finally stopped pretending he didn’t. Now the papers were spread between us like a surrender. I signed where the lawyer pointed. My full name in black ink. The date. The quiet acknowledgment that the vows I had spoken in a white dress had meant nothing. Eli signed after me. His hand shook once. He didn’t look at me when he set the pen down. “It’s done,” his lawyer said. “The waiting period is waived by mutual consent. You’re both free.” Free. Eli stood first. For a moment I thought he might say something—anger, grief, a final accusation—but h

Nadia’s POVThe night bus smelled like rain and metal and too many bodies.I had taken the late route on purpose. The one that snaked through the industrial edge of the city before looping back toward the quieter neighborhoods. Dominic had texted only an address and a time. When I boarded at the nearly empty stop he was already standing near the back, one hand on the overhead rail, dark coat still damp from the weather outside. He didn’t look at me when I passed. He didn’t need to. I felt the weight of his attention like a hand on the back of my neck.I moved deeper into the bus and stopped a few feet in front of him, facing the windows. The skirt I wore was short and loose. No panties, the way he preferred when he sent messages like that. The bus lurched forward. A handful of passengers sat scattered through the seats—two teenagers with headphones near the front, an older woman dozing against the glass, a man in a gray hoodie three rows up on the opposite side who kept his eyes on hi

Gemma’s POVThe apartment was too quiet.I sat on the edge of the bed in one of his shirts with my arms wrapped around my own waist, staring at the floor between my bare feet. The night’s evidence was still there if anyone had known where to look—faint bruises on my hips, the lingering stretch in places that still felt open, the faint ache that always followed when he used me the way he had on the bus. My phone sat face-down on the nightstand. I hadn’t answered Mom’s last three texts. I hadn’t answered anyone.The double life had finally become too heavy to carry.When the front door opened and closed I didn’t move. Footsteps came down the short hallway. Then Victor was there in the doorway, still in the dark coat he had worn earlier, rain still drying on his shoulders. He looked at me for a long moment, reading the expression on my face the way he always did.“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.“I hate this.” The words came out raw and sudden. “I hate what I’ve turned into. I hate tha