Chapter 3 I Was A Fool

"On your Knees"

It wasn’t a request. It was a command, one that brooked no argument. My legs trembled as I sank to the floor, the skirts of my gown pooling around me like a ruined halo. The carpet was soft beneath my knees, but it did nothing to dull the ache between my thighs, the throb of my lips, still swollen from his fingers.

He didn’t wait. His hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back before he guided his cock to my lips. “Open.”

I did.

The first thrust was brutal, his hips snapping forward as he fucked into my mouth without mercy. I gagged, tears pricking my eyes, my hands flying to his thighs for balance. His skin was hot beneath my fingers, the muscles tensed as he drove deeper, his cock hitting the back of my throat.

“That’s it,” he growled, his grip on my hair tightening. “Take it. Take every fucking inch.”

I choked, saliva dripping down my chin, my nose pressing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. He didn’t care. He used me, his hips pistoning, his breath coming in rough grunts as he fucked my face like I was nothing more than a hole to fill.

“You’re nothing,” he snarled, his voice a dark rasp. “Just a pretty little cunt for me to use. A toy to break.

His words should have shattered me, but I didn't have time to process them. Because as his cock swelled, his grip turned punishing, something inside me burned. Not pleasure. Not pain. Something else. Something defiant.

Then he was pulling out, his cock jerking as ropes of cum splattered across my lips, my chin, my chest. I gasped, my body trembling, my fingers clutching at the carpet as I tried to steady myself. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t comfort me. Just stood there, his chest rising and falling as he looked down at me with cold disdain.

My eyes filled with tears I refused to shed. I didn't want to look at him. This was far from what I had expected my first time to be, my wedding night no less.

"Stand up", his tone as cold as before.

I did as ordered. He stepped closer. His expression is just empty.

“Do you know what they’ll say if we don’t complete the bond?”

“That we’re unbound,” I don't know how I formed those words.

“That you’re guilty.” Walking me back to the bed, our wedding bed. There was no gentleness I had wanted or hoped for in his touch. This should not feel like a nightmare, so why did it? I had no idea.

His claws came out, and he tore my wedding dress in one sweep, leaving it in tatters on the floor like discarded promises. He harshly pushed me onto the mattress. He flipped me on my stomach, and I was on all fours.

He didn't bother undressing or preparing me; he just lined himself with my entrance and breached it in one brutal thrust.

I cried out in pain, tears pricking my eyes, but he didn't stop to wait for my body to adjust to his size and started moving with urgency.

I was too shocked to react or too much in pain to protest. My wolf was whimpering alongside me, but I had accepted him as my mate and my alpha, so we couldn't stop him or refuse him.

Grayson’s claws raked down my back. I knew this wasn’t just sex; it was punishment. His grip was iron, his breath hot against my ear as he slammed me onto the silk-draped bed, the fabric cool against my bare skin.

His body pressed mine into the mattress, the weight of him crushing, suffocating, but I didn’t fight. I never did. Not when his teeth grazed my throat, not when his claws pricked my thighs, not when his cock drove into me with a brutality that stole my breath.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood, my fingers twisting into the sheets as he fucked me like he hated me. Maybe he did. His hips snapped against mine, each thrust punishing, his growls low and guttural, more animal than man. The gilded mirrors lining the walls reflected us, his dark suit half-undone, my skin flushed and marked by his claws.

The scent of roses and champagne still clung to the air, but beneath it was something darker: sweat, musk, the raw, metallic tang of arousal. My body betrayed me, clenching around him despite the pain, my traitorous pussy slick with need.

I told myself it was just biology, just the mating bond pulling at my instincts, but the way my nipples hardened under his rough palms, the way my back arched when his teeth sank into my shoulder, it wasn’t just instinct. It was something worse. Something like want.

He didn’t kiss me. Not once. His mouth was for biting, for snarling curses against my skin, for growling my name like it was a slur.

“Evangeline.”

It tasted bitter. Like I was nothing. His claws dug into my hips, bruising, and I whimpered, not from pain, but from the way my body responded, my thighs trembling, my core tightening around him. I was a virgin before him, but he didn’t care. He took what he wanted, stretching me, filling me until I thought I’d break. And when I did, when the orgasm ripped through me with a cry I couldn’t suppress, he didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, his rhythm relentless, his cock swelling inside me as his own release neared.

The first spurt of his cum was scalding, filling me so deep I felt it in my throat. His growl vibrated against my neck, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside me, marking me again in the most primal way. For a second, I let myself believe it meant something. That this brutal, desperate fucking was his way of claiming me, of needing me. That maybe, beneath the cruelty, there was something real.

I was a fool...