Chapter 5
The reception stretched late into the night, growing louder and more chaotic as bottles of vintage champagne and aged whiskey disappeared. Liora sat beside her husband, her body still buzzing from Kael's filthy whispers on the dance floor. Every time she shifted in her seat, she felt the lingering dampness between her thighs.
Silas, however, was drinking heavily.
What started as calculated toasts quickly spiraled. He laughed too loud at his own jokes, his usually sharp blue eyes glazing over. By the time the final guests were saying their goodbyes, Silas could barely stand straight.
"Come on, Mrs. Voss," he slurred, grabbing her arm a little too roughly as they were ushered toward the private elevator that led to the honeymoon suite. "Time to consummate this... alliance."
Liora's heart raced with nervous excitement as they entered the lavish presidential suite. The room was a fantasy of romance-rose petals scattered across the massive king bed, soft golden lighting, a bottle of chilled champagne waiting beside two crystal flutes. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the glittering city below.
While Silas disappeared into the bathroom, Liora slipped into the dressing room. With trembling fingers, she removed her wedding gown, letting it pool at her feet like spilled cream. Beneath it, she wore the sheer white lingerie she had chosen specifically for tonight-delicate lace that barely covered her full breasts, a tiny thong that disappeared between her round ass cheeks, and a matching garter belt.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Porcelain skin flushed pink. Nipples visibly hard against the transparent lace. Her long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. She looked like pure temptation.
Tonight, she told herself again, biting her lip. Tonight he'll finally touch me.
When she stepped back into the bedroom, Silas was already on the bed, shirt half-unbuttoned, tie loosened. He looked up at her, his gaze sliding over her barely-covered body with mild appreciation.
"Not bad," he muttered. "You clean up well."
He reached for her clumsily, pulling her onto the bed. His kiss was sloppy and whiskey-sour. His hands pawed at her breasts for a few seconds-mechanical, almost bored-before he suddenly groaned and collapsed back onto the pillows.
"Silas?" Liora whispered, hovering over him.
A loud snore answered her.
He was out cold. Blackout drunk.
Liora sat there in stunned silence, her body aching with unfulfilled need. Her pussy throbbed painfully, desperate for touch, for friction, for anything. She was soaking wet, her tiny thong ruined, her thighs sticky with arousal that had been building since Kael's dirty words on the dance floor.
She gently shook his shoulder. "Silas... please..."
Nothing.
Humiliation burned through her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she curled up beside him in her expensive, seductive lingerie-designed to be ripped off, not ignored. The man who had just married her lay snoring on his back, fully dressed, while his virgin bride trembled with two years of pent-up sexual frustration.
Liora pressed her thighs together tightly, trying to ease the deep, empty ache. Her hand drifted down her stomach, hovering just above her aching core, but she stopped herself.
Not like this, she thought bitterly. Not on my wedding night.
She slipped out of bed and walked barefoot to the large balcony doors. The cool night air kissed her heated skin as she stepped outside, wrapping her arms around herself. The city lights sparkled far below, indifferent to her disappointment.
Her nipples tightened painfully against the lace. Her clit pulsed with every heartbeat.
She was married.
She was rich.
She was still untouched.
And more desperately horny than she had ever been in her life.
Liora didn't know that her salvation-and her complete ruin-was already watching her from the shadows of the balcony.
