The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

Sunlight pierced the room, a blade of gold slicing through half-drawn curtains. It struck Cathleen’s eyes, a sharp reminder that dawn had come uninvited. She stirred, consciousness creeping in like an unwelcome guest. Her body ached, a delicious, tender soreness between her thighs. Eyes fluttering open, she expected the hard lines of Xavier beside her-instead, Bella’s soft breathing filled the space.

“Fuck,” she murmured. “There was no way what happened was a dream.” The memory of being fucked hard with a dildo flashed vividly in her mind, Xavier’s stern gaze watching her every moan. But how the hell did New York’s skyline replace Miami’s nocturnal glow?

Her heart raced. Need clawed at her insides, raw and demanding. Xavier. Why only a toy? His flesh was what she craved. A dick not a fucking dildo!

She rose, each movement igniting the embers left by last night’s fire. Slipping from Bella’s bed, she padded toward their room, intent on washing away the confusion and the ache for more.

Steam veiled the bathroom as water cascaded over her, but it couldn’t wash away the hunger. She slipped into lingerie that whispered against her skin, a promise of what could come. A long coat draped over her curves, heels clicking a seductive rhythm against the floor.

The study door loomed before her. She didn’t knock. She pushed inside, ready to demand him-all of him. “Mr. Knight, you can’t fuck me with a dildo and expect me not to want your dick, do you?”

Gasps shredded the air. He wasn’t alone. Fuck!Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

Business suits and wide eyes surrounded Xavier. Her coat hit the floor before she realized her mistake. Mortification bloomed hot on her cheeks, and she scrambled, clutching the coat to her chest, fleeing the scene of her shame.

“Mr. Knight, I didn’t know your wife was the famous lawyer.” The words followed her escape, mocking, curious.

“Isn’t she the face of Glow Girl?” another whispered, disbelief lacing the question.

Xavier’s voice, cold as winter ice, sliced through the tension. “If anyone dares talk of what just happened here, I will withdraw my partnership with Glow Girl.”

His threat hung heavy in the room, a warning cloaked in frost. Silence answered him, thick and complicit.

Cathleen ran, her heels a staccato beat against her pounding heart. She never should have assumed, never should have exposed herself like that. Xavier’s world had rules she was still fumbling to grasp. And she’d pay for every misstep.

The air in Xavier’s study was stale with the remnants of tension. The women from Glow Girl, their laughter a flimsy veil over the crackling atmosphere, fluttered out with their signed contracts clutched like trophies.

“Mr. Knight, don’t worry,” one cooed, her voice dripping faux innocence. “We too play naughty with our husbands at home.”

Xavier’s jaw clenched as he scribbled his signature, not a flicker of interest in his cold eyes. The door clicked shut behind them, and silence loomed heavy and thick.

“Mrs. Knight sure is naughty. I must get a wife like her.” Caleb’s voice cut through the quiet, an attempt at humor perhaps, but it hung awkwardly between them.

Xavier fixed him with a glacial stare, one that usually made men twice Caleb’s size wither. But Caleb merely shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Go look for her then; take the whole day off,” Xavier dismissed with a wave of his hand, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“Sir, but you still have a meeting with BBI.” Caleb’s reminder was tentative, probing.

“Cancel it; I have a family to take care of.” Xavier’s words were sharp, final.

Caleb stifled a chuckle. He knew the score-Xavier was itching to track down Cathleen. With a knowing nod, he exited, leaving Xavier to his brooding solitude.

The halls of the Knight residence whispered secrets, shadows clinging to corners. Xavier stalked through them, a predator honing in on his prey. Cathleen wasn’t in their room. Of course she wasn’t. His steps quickened, leading him to Bella’s room.

“Is Bella sleeping?” His voice was low, barely concealing the tremor of underlying urgency.

Cathleen’s nod was meek, a far cry from the brazen woman who had stormed his study. Shame colored her cheeks, her gaze cast downward.

“You are nodding at me, Cat?” Xavier’s tone was edged with a challenge, daring her to meet his gaze.

“Yes, Bella is sleeping.” Her small and tight voice betrayed her turmoil.

“Follow me.” It wasn’t a request. Xavier didn’t wait for compliance; he knew she would obey.

They traversed the threshold of their bedroom, stepping into the walk-in closet-a place of silks and leathers, now the antechamber to a darker sanctum. Xavier’s fingers brushed over the drawer, his movements precise as he pressed the hidden button. The wall slid back with a hush, revealing a door cloaked in secrecy.

His index finger rested against the sensor, the door yielding to his touch, unlocking another world. He stepped inside, Cathleen trailing behind, her heels a soft echo in the vastness of the dungeon.

Cathleen’s eyes went wide. A dungeon. Here. In their home.

“Surprised, Cat?” Xavier’s voice was steel wrapped in velvet, his back to her as he surveyed the room-their room.

“Xavier, I-” Cathleen began, only to be cut short by his raised hand.

“Here,” he said, turning to face her, his eyes dark and unwavering, “you will address me properly.”

Tension wound tight between them, a silent battle of wills in the dim light of the dungeon.

Cold stone underfoot. The dungeon’s air, heavy with a musk of leather and latent power, clung to Cathleen’s skin. Mirrored walls threw back her image-a woman on the verge of defiance, yet ensnared by an enigmatic force.

“You are defying me, Cat.” His voice sliced through the stillness as his hands clasped behind him, commanding her attention without a touch.

“Xavier I…” Her protest died in her throat, snuffed out by his unwavering gaze.

“Stop.” A command, and more-an assertion of control. “In here, it’s not Xavier. You know the rules.”

Cathleen swallowed the lump in her throat, an ember of rebellion flickering within. “Daddy, I am not okay, you just used that massive dildo on me; I wanted your flesh, sir.”

The twinge in his eyes told her she’d struck a nerve. “You can never learn,” he growled. His steps deliberate, he turned away from her, toward the coiled whips that hung like serpents waiting to strike.

“Strip!” No room for hesitation in his tone.

Her fingers fumbled with the coat, dropping it to reveal the lingerie that was more promise than fabric. His predatory gaze devoured her sight.

“Good. Now take it off.” Each word was a nail in the coffin of her autonomy.

Lace and silk fell away, puddling at her feet. Vulnerability seared her flesh more than the chill in the air ever could.

“Kneel.” Simple. Unyielding.

She descended, knees meeting the ground, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

The cane’s kiss came without warning, a bolt of fire across her back. Cathleen’s scream pierced the silence. Pain bloomed, radiating outward, a cruel blossom unfurling petal by petal.

“Adjust,” he ordered, as if pain was a garment to be worn with grace.

“Please…” she whimpered, but there was no mercy in the dungeon.

“Respect me. Take what I give,” Xavier demanded, discarding the cane for the whip.

“Y-Yes, sir.” Tears stained her cheeks, a baptism of suffering.

The whip danced again, a brutal choreography marking her skin. She jumped, an instinctive betrayal of her resolve.

“Stand still or I’ll bind you to the cross; use the cane until you understand.” His threat was a dark promise.

“Understand?” he barked, his voice the crack of thunder in a storm.

“Y-Yes.” Obedience was her only refuge now.

“Get up. Leave.” Dismissed like a servant after being scolded.

She stumbled to her feet, the coat barely concealing her nakedness, the lingerie discarded like a forgotten dream. With each step away from him, a shard of her dignity returned, though her skin still sang with the echoes of his discipline.

Cathleen’s frantic escape halted, her breath a hiss of shock. The door wouldn’t yield. It was locked. The click of the mechanism echoed in the cold silence-a mocking retort to her desperation. She spun around, her eyes wide and wild, meeting Xavier’s amused gaze. His low and sinister laughter filled the space between them.

“Sir,” she whispered, her voice trembling as much as her hands. “Can you please unlock the door for me?”

Xavier’s lips curled into a smile, a predator baring teeth. “Good girl,” he purred, approval lacing the words that dripped like honeyed venom. “You ask, Cat. You don’t demand.” He got up from where he was sitting and then hung the cane back where it was. “Use your right index finger.”

Her mind raced, questions clawing for attention, but fear snuffed them out. Survival instinct took over. Get out. Now. She extended her right index finger, hesitating only a moment before pressing it against the cold, unyielding sensor. A soft beep signaled compliance, and the locks disengaged with an audible click that was almost a relief.

The door swung open, and Cathleen didn’t look back. Her feet carried her through the threshold, away from the dungeon that mirrored Miami’s dark allure. Away from Xavier’s twisted affection. Away from the pain that still throbbed in time with her pulse. She ran, the taste of freedom bittersweet on her lips.