The rain falls heavy now against the windows. The cherry blossoms have just started to bloom in New York, and the petals are everywhere, including the front courtyard of this tiny townhouse in Queens. I look over my shoulder and see that some of the crushed petals are clinging to the window outside.

It’s everything I had imagined for a wedding day — and yet, none of it was how it should be. It wasn’t real. It’s not like I cling to scripture or the Bible or any of that anymore, but I’d imagined true love. And I’d wondered what it would feel like to walk down the aisle with someone who wanted to be with me forever, someone who would put me first above everything.

But I look into Liam’s changeable eyes and realize that maybe this is better. Lust. Aching, sweet desire pooling in my sex, my mouth watering for his cock. My body desperate and hungry for his touch.

Because I’d waited so long for Charlie, I had no concept of desire like this.

This man — with his dark eyes, his traditional tattoo that ties him to his family, his impeccable physique — he’s the Harlequin romance pirate. He’s the one who takes the virgin down to the hold and tastes her for the first time, the one who rips her bodice and ravishes her until she’s screaming his name.

I always wanted that to be me. And now it is.

Liam sets me down gently after we cross the threshold. I’m not entirely sure where my shoes went, but my feet are bare and wet from running down the sidewalk from the Catholic church in Queens.

“You were supposed to keep your heels on.” His voice is gruff, but his eyes spark when he speaks, like he’s amused. “I have to punish girls who don’t do exactly as I say.”

“I knew you liked the heels,” I reply. “But you didn’t tell me explicitly to wear them here. I don’t think they’re essential here.”

“Don’t be saucy with me,” he says, kissing my neck. He nips me there.

“I’ll be however I please, husband.”

Liam brings a strong hand to my neck and grasps me there like he did last night. Flames lick over my thighs and through my core.

“No. You’ll do what I please. What I want. Are you ready for this, librarian?”

“I am. I think.” The blush rises from deep within my body. There’s a sensation deep inside of me — one of fire and rain and earth. Something deeply elemental. As if in response, the rain picks up, beating hard against the windows.

He kisses me hard, pulling me into his body.

I go to unhook the back of my wedding dress, hands shaking. “I need you to help me.”

“I said you were going to keep it on. And I’m a man of my word.” He cups one of my breasts, roughly, his hand kneading the fabric. The pressure, almost at the tipping point of pain, makes me gasp. I groan slightly, throwing my head back. “But I am going to do something about this hair of yours.”

His hands go to the bun, pulling out the long pins that hold it in place. My hair, always too straight to stay up for long, falls loose and messy around my face. I bring a hand to it. “It doesn’t look right like this — ”

“Looks perfect to me.” His eyes bore into me, like he’s gazing into my soul. Like he’s undressing me and making me his all at once. Liam tangles his fingers in my hair, shaking it free. It brushes the tops of my shoulder, and I shiver.

I gulp. “Are we going to the bedroom or — ” I glance around. The apartment is still mostly bare. We brought in one of my overstuffed chairs and an old couch his mother had in her house. Beyond that, there’s only a coffee table.

He laughs, and he brings his hand to my collarbone, tracing his fingers over it. “We’ll go wherever the fuck I want to take you.” His eyes are animal then — wanting, searching.

Liam grabs me by the waist and lifts my dress with his free hand, bringing his fingers to the folds of my sex.

“Oh — ” I barely get out the sound before he slips a finger inside of me, exploring me. He carefully avoids my clit, instead slipping his fingers over my wetness and then inside me, tapping the ridged spot inside. The heat that’s been burning in my body all day starts to build to a crescendo of intensity. That’s when he stops, pulling his hand away.

He grins. “Thought I’d let you come that easily? I need you warmed up. Very warmed up for this.” He brings a hand to the pants of his tuxedo, stroking the outline of his hard cock. His fingers find the zipper and unleash its length.

I’ve seen it before, tasted it. But now, it’s supposed to fit somewhere else, and it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time ever.

I expect him to force me to my knees, take it to the back of my throat — like he did before. My mouth even waters for it. I want his taste in me, to be part of me.

Instead, he kneels before me and lifts my dress, bringing his fingers to the lace of my pink and white garter.

“Fuck, that looks beautiful.” His fingertips travel higher, touching the bare mound of my sex.

He brings his lips to my legs, kissing me on bare skin. He takes the garter in his teeth and pulls it down my leg, tossing it to the side of the room.

I shudder. I want him buried inside of me, his tongue on my skin, tasting me. He kisses up to the tops of my thighs, and I feel myself growing wet, slippery, ready for him even though he hasn’t touched me yet. The gauzy tulle of the wedding dress grazes the tops of my hips, and the corset-like bra holds me, tense and straight. Beneath the garment, my nipples stiffen, hard as pebbles. I moan — the need rising within me is something akin to pain. But I might like the pain. I might need it.

When his mouth is poised just before my bare sex, he breathes me in, looking up at me with hungry eyes.

“I need you ready, Skye. It’s your first time, for real. Isn’t it?”

I nod weakly, my legs trembling with desire. “Yes.”

“You’re my sweet virgin, and I’m going to teach you exactly what it takes to please me. Are you ready for that? For my cock?” His fingers find the entrance of my sex, teasing it, his thumb tapping lightly on my clit. A lightning bolt of need sears straight through me, to my very core.

That’s what he does to me. He shakes me to my core. Makes me someone different. A person I don’t recognize, standing in an apartment in Queens in a damn wedding dress. Married to a man I barely know.

Liam’s breath is hot against my sex. “Tell me what you want,” he says, panting.

“I want — ” I still blush when I try to tell him these things, but my need is overwhelming, pulsing through me like waves crashing against the shore. “I want your tongue on my clit. I want it.” I shudder when I say the words, and I hike the billowing skirt of the wedding dress higher.

Liam doesn’t hesitate, nearly growling with his own need as his mouth finds me. Before, he was slow and methodical when his tongue met my sex — but now, he devours me, thrusting his tongue inside of me, grabbing my hips with his hands. His fingers dig into my skin as his tongue circles my clit, his lips pulling against it. I’m shaking with need, hips bucking against his face. If it weren’t for his hands gripping my ass, I’m sure I’d fall in an embarrassing heap of lace and crinoline. But he holds me up, eating me, tongue thrusting inside of me like a man starving.

I come, shaking against him, closing my eyes, transported. My consciousness seems to flicker out for a moment, and from a distance, I hear myself moaning, crying out. The orgasm is so intense that I feel disembodied, absent from myself. The pulsing, throbbing intensity of it takes over every pore in my body, every cell.

And strangely, it leaves me unsatisfied, longing for more, even as I pant and writhe with his mouth against my bare sex.

I was always told wedding nights were reserved for love. But I never imagined it quite like this. Then again, this isn’t an ordinary wedding night.

I nearly collapse against him, but he brings me down to the floor with him, pulling me into his arms and kissing me hard. “You taste so fucking good, baby. I could live on that taste. Goddamn.”

Liam stands and lifts me again, like I weigh nothing, carrying me to the bedroom and placing me on the bed. When he undresses, I can see the bulge, pressing against the fabric of his tux, straining to be let free. I’ve tasted him, taken him all the way back to my throat, let him come. But this — this makes me nervous.

His cock is huge and thick, and he strokes himself. There’s a bead of precum at the tip, and he groans slightly as he brings his hand over the head of it.

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” he says, staring at me intently. “Spread your legs, and show me your pussy.”

“Do you want the dress on — ”

“Yes. Keep it on. And just do as I say. No talking back.”

I bring myself forward, heart pounding, spreading my legs, feet planted on the floor.

“Now touch yourself for me.”

I do as he says, spreading my lips apart, finding my clit. I slip one finger inside.

And then he comes to me, pulling my dress away from my shoulders while I’m still touching myself. The bra falls, and my breasts are exposed above the white lace. He roughly cups them and pinches my nipple, sending yet another wave of arousal to pool between my legs.

And then he tears at my dress, ripping it across one shoulder. He falls in bed next to me, palming my thigh and sliding his fingers up to my sex. Two fingers slip roughly inside of me, palm pressing against my clit, kneading it over and over until I’m breathless, panting, simmering close to the edge again.

He covers my mouth with his, his tongue meeting mine, rough and searching. Taking my wrists in his hand, he pulls my arms above my head, pushing me down into the bed. It’s just a mattress on the floor of a run-down old townhouse in Queens, but it feels transformed now.

“You want me inside of you, don’t you?” He kisses me again, nearly bruising me with his animal strength.

“Yeah,” I say with a moan in my voice. “I want you inside of me. Now.”

His fingers find me again, pulling circles of wetness over my clit. “Are you wet enough for me?” He gives my pussy a little smack, sending vibrations through my clit, bringing me closer to the edge of insanity. I’ve already tipped over the edge once tonight, but it feels like I might be close to losing my damn mind.

Just when I think I can’t bear it anymore, Liam pulls my body to his and places the head of his cock at the entrance of my pussy. He presses against my slick folds.

The head of his cock slips inside of me. He’s huge — thick — and even this small intrusion hurts more than I had imagined, stretching me beyond the point that his fingers or mine had ever taken me before.

“Liam — be — slow — ” I whisper the words, arching my back against the bed, hips rising to meet his. All at once, I want him inside of me, and yet, my body wants to draw away from him at the same time, to make the pain and discomfort end.

His hand finds my neck, warm, firm fingers against my skin. My breath hitches in my throat — the power of his body is apparent in his movements, even in the flick of his tongue over my exposed nipple. He holds the head of his cock inside of me, moaning slightly as he begins to thrust, ever so gently, pushing himself further inside.

“Don’t resist,” he says, groaning. “God, you’re tight. You’re so fucking tight.” He slips himself in a tiny bit further, and I feel myself opening for him. I shiver, goosebumps rising over my flesh from the tops of my shoulders, down to my curling toes.

“Oh God,” I moan. “I didn’t think it would be this — this thick.”

As he pushes in further, the pain starts to give way to pleasure, and the two sensations mix. I whimper, and Liam grunts, obviously holding himself back. “I’m not going to stop, little wife. You’re going to take my cock tonight. I’m going to claim you, make you mine.” He brings his hand to my hair and pulls it, making my neck arch back as he thrusts further inside, filling me nearly to the hilt.

I gasp. The feeling of his cock takes my breath away, and my vision goes blurry, nearly black. He pulls back and pushes himself inside of me again, filling me up entirely this time. The base of his hips meets my clit, and he grinds against me, bringing that pleasure back. The intensity rises, flames licking over my thighs, heat rising in my core to that tight coil at the center.

There’s been a place inside of me, dormant for years — a place no one else ever accessed. Bit by bit, Liam has been wearing it down, peeling away its edges. Perhaps that’s why I’m here right now — why I’ve stayed, why I found this place for him, why I moved in here with no questions asked.

“You like this, don’t you? You wanted this. A walk on the wild side with a bad boy. Someone you wouldn’t take home. Your thrill ride.”

He thrusts inside me, falling into a steady rhythm and bringing my legs to wrap around his waist. Each movement brings me higher and higher, and I know I’m reaching that point again, the place where my brain tips into oblivion.

“Yeah, I like it,” I whimper.

“What did you want when you first saw me?” His thrusts are even faster, meeting my clit each time, filling me like I’ve never been filled before.

“I wanted — ”

“Say it. Tell me what you wanted.”

“I wanted you to fuck me.” I cry out, and he grunts, filling me repeatedly. My legs start to shake, and my toes curl in response. “I wanted you to make me — make me yours — ”

“You are.”

“Yes. I am. Fuck me,” I whisper.

His body tenses, meeting mine over and over. I dig my nails into his back, and he growls. “You’re going to come for me. Come on my cock. I want to feel you do it.”

He whispers in my ear, the sound harsh. The vibrations of his voice seem to echo through my blood, and I’m a whimpering, babbling mess. The heat builds to overwhelming heights, and I come again, legs wrapped around him, welcoming him inside of me. I let out a long, low, animal moan, pussy swollen and pulsing, aching with pain and desire, all wrapped together in one.

“I own you, little girl,” he says, slowing for a moment before flipping me onto all fours. “You’re all mine. Every part of you.”

My voice fails me, and I can’t respond. Liam takes my hips in his strong hands and fucks me harder, riding me through the tail end of my orgasm. Another climax builds inside of me, and I close my eyes and let it come. Light and sound and energy swell into one powerful moment, centered between my legs. His cock invades me, impales me — it opens me like I’ve never been before.

My body shakes with the pleasure of it, and Liam picks up his pace. My pussy throbs and clenches around him, and I cry out, my voice echoing through the apartment.

“So fucking wet — my God — ” He grunts and thrusts one final time, coming deep inside of me and filling me with his hot essence. I vaguely think that we should have used a condom, but I know as he falls against me, pulling me down to the bed, that I wouldn’t want anything between us.

We face each other on the bed, and Liam brings his lips to mine, kissing me long and slow. “Fuck, that was good.”

I feel his cock start to stiffen again against my leg, and I smile. “So soon? I thought that wasn’t possible — ”

“You’re a special case, Skye Williams.” He kisses along my jawline. “Skye Dougherty when you change your name.”

When. Not if.

Before I can say anything, he lifts the skirt of my dress and pushes his cock inside of me again, shuddering. “You’re already so wet from my cum, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say, the word a desperate whimper.

He fucks me hard and fast, with abandon this time. I’m sore, and I know I’ll be unsteady tomorrow, but I want him again — I want him inside of me, to come inside of me.

“I’m going to fill you up again,” he says. He holds me tight to his chest, thrusting into me and grunting hard. He comes again in one final motion, and I sigh. The waves of my own pleasure take me over, and my heart beats hard in my ears. I shake against him, legs wrapped around him. When he kisses me, my heart pounds.

Perhaps it shouldn’t.

I know I never should have fallen into any of this.

But after I’ve tasted it this once, I know I’ll want it again — and I’m not sure I’ll ever stop wanting it.

He helps me peel out of the dress, and we fall to bed, laughing and tired.

Once my part of the deal is filled and his daughter is his again — where does that leave me?

I don’t linger on the thought. Instead, I opt for sleep. The next week will bring our visit with Brie.

Maybe I’ll know my own heart better by then — but as I rest in his arms, I’m not sure if that’s true or if I’m fooling myself like the little girl that I am.