Catrina
The Past…
Dear Diary,
Today is my wedding day. I shouldn’t be thinking about Heath, but I am. He just doesn’t get it. He never has. The money. The power. The social class. Heath needs money to survive while I need it to thrive. Yes, I love him. My body and soul crave him, ache for him. But how could he expect me to give up everything to be with him? My father’s business, who Heath helped run, would go under. I would lose my trust fund, leaving me penniless. I’m devastated that my father didn’t change his will. When Heath showed me the new one, the one that should’ve been in place, I thought I’d be able to have it all. Heath. The money. The power. The status. But then he told me it wasn’t signed, and in that moment I knew I would have to choose: love or money. Love doesn’t pay for homes or vacations or cars. It doesn’t buy food or clothes. Anybody who tells you they would choose love over money is either full of shit or has never enjoyed the comforts and luxuries money can buy.
It broke my heart to watch Heath get pulled from our home and escorted off our property the day of Daddy’s funeral. Even several weeks later, when I think about that day, I feel such pity for Heath and what he must’ve been going through. He loved my father and losing him was hard on us all. My heart aches knowing we can never be together. But the truth is we were never supposed to be together. He was a sneaky kiss in my bed, a dirty fuck in my closet. He was a craving, a guilty pleasure, but he was never supposed to be my forever. Feelings got involved and ideas got twisted and suddenly he was asking me to give up my life to be with him. If Heath truly loved me, he would’ve never asked that of me. He would understand why I need to marry Elliot. If Heath truly loved me, he would want what’s best for me.
-CC
I close my journal and place it into my purse, the one I will be taking with me on my honeymoon. Then I head into the dressing room to finish getting ready.
“Catrina, that dress looks exquisite on you,” Delores coos, and I turn in my ivory Oscar de la Renta wedding gown to look at myself in the mirror. My makeup is professionally done to perfection. My chocolate brown hair is down in perfect waves, topped with a Swarovski crystal bridal tiara. My attire is complete with Manolo Blahnik crystal suede point toe pumps. I swallow thickly, refusing to regret my decision. This is the life I was meant to live, not slumming it in some Motel 8 where I could catch a disease simply from using the shower there.
“Thank you, Delores.” I watch myself in the mirror as I tilt my head to the side slightly and smile wide.
“Are you sure you don’t want Hunter or Elliot’s father to walk you down the aisle? I can imagine how hard it must be to get married without your father being here to give you away.”
“I’m sure. This is something I need to do on my own.”
“Okay.” She leans in and gives me an air-kiss to each cheek. “I’m going to find my seat and we’ll see you at the end of the altar.” She closes the door behind her and I turn back to the mirror. When I see not only my reflection in the mirror but someone else’s I let out a screech, but it’s quickly muffled with a pair of large, rough hands.
Heath.
He spins me around to face him, and before I can scream, his lips crash into mine. Instantly, my body melts into his as his tongue finds its way into my mouth, lashing and laving with my own.
When he breaks our kiss, his chocolate eyes meet mine and the glare burning in his gaze sends shivers down my spine. Betrayal. Devastation. Heartache. All because of me. Before I can speak, try to explain, he whips me back around and my hands hit the couch cushion. He flips my dress up and rips my panties off my body. They’re part of my La Perla bridal lingerie. I should scream. Beg him to stop. I know what’s coming next. But I don’t do anything. I can’t. I can never deny this man my body.
His hand comes down and smacks my butt cheek. I squeal too loud and he hushes me before smacking my bottom again.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
My ass smarts in pain from his smacks, but my pussy clenches in anticipation. I should stop this. I should stop him. Instead, when his hand comes down again, this time the hardest of all, I let out a needy echo. I wait for another smack, but when it doesn’t come, I glance back to find him scowling at me. Anger blazing in his eyes. I open my mouth to apologize, but no words come out. I’m not sorry and he knows I’m not. It would just be a lie.
Instead I turn my head back around and lower it to the couch, ready and willing to take whatever it is he gives me. His fingers slide underneath me and fill my pussy. I’m drenched. He pumps them in and out of me, working me up into a frenzy, forcing me to once again forget the world around us. I’m about to come when he pulls them out. I let out an unsatisfied whine, but he just chuckles darkly. And that’s when it hits me. He’s here to punish me. The spanking and denying me of my orgasm. He’s hurt and he’s going to try to hurt me the only way he knows how. Sexually. Damn this man.
“Please,” I beg, but he ignores me. His fingers reenter my pussy and I breathe a sigh of relief, but then they’re gone again. A few seconds later, I can feel them a few inches higher as he pushes into my forbidden hole. We’ve only attempted to do this once before when he begged me. It hurt and we didn’t finish. Of course he would do it now. He’s taken me every other way possible. I should demand him to stop. I’m in my wedding dress, for God’s sake, about to say ‘I do’ to another man. But when he pushes his fingers deep into my ass, I let out a guttural groan and I know my body will never be able to tell him no. I need him to claim this last part of me before I walk down the aisle and give myself over to another man. The burn from his thick fingers is strong but after a few times, the pain turns into pleasure and before I know it, I’m writhing against his fingers, needing more.
I hear the sound of his pants unzip and I startle. He wouldn’t do what I think he’s going to do, would he? I sneak a glance back and watch him as he strokes his dick a few times. Then he enters me from behind, once again filling my pussy so deliciously. I moan out in pleasure as he simultaneously fucks my ass and pussy. Another orgasm builds. It feels so good. I need this release. I can feel it building higher and higher, and just as I’m about to explode around his cock, he pulls both his fingers and his cock out. I look back, confused, just in time to watch him press his thick cock against my ass. He pushes into me slowly and my forehead drops to the couch as I gasp. A mixture of pain and pleasure once again hitting me. I don’t know whether to scream or cry. Once he’s completely seated in me, he starts to thrust in and out of me. His hands gripping my hips to the point of pain. I can feel him losing control, his fingers digging into my flesh. I try to reach under me to find my clit, to seek out my own pleasure, but he growls and smacks my hand away.
“Please,” I plead, but he ignores me as he continues to savagely fuck my ass. The burning sensation serving as a reminder that I’ve hurt this man and deserve to be without pleasure. His movements turn frantic. His breathing heavy. He thrusts harder, deeper into my ass. It hurts, yet it also in some strange way feels good. And then he stills inside of me and I feel his warm seed shoot into me. Wordlessly, he pulls out, breaking our connection. He doesn’t kiss me or hold me or comfort me like he always does after we make love.
Flipping my gown back down, I stand and can feel his cum dribble out of my ass. I turn around to face him, furious that he’s treated me this way.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demand, my head held high. Heath grips my chin and growls.
“If you do this, Catrina. If you marry this cocksucker, it’s over between us. Do you understand me? Don’t you dare come crying back to me when he doesn’t satisfy you like I do.”
“Satisfy me?” I huff. “You didn’t satisfy me just now!” I scream into his face, not even caring that there are several hundred people on the other side of the door waiting for me to walk out and marry Elliot.
Heath grabs my hips and pushes me onto the couch. He flips my dress back up and before I can ask what he’s doing, he disappears underneath. Seconds later, his tongue is plunging into my wet folds. He licks and laves at my juices, working me up into a frenzy. He sucks on my clit and I lose it. My orgasm hits me hard and my body quivers in pleasure. My hand falls over my eyes as I try to control my breathing. I don’t even know how I’m going to walk down the aisle with my legs feeling like jelly.
“Heath,” I whisper his name. I can’t believe I let this happen. When he doesn’t answer me, I open my eyes, only to find myself alone in the room. Who the hell does he think he is to leave me with an ultimatum?
The room is silent, only the sound of my heels click-clacking against the tile as I make my way to the bathroom to clean up. Once I’m presentable, I open the door and head to the entryway to the church aisle. I hear the wedding procession playing and I breathe in a deep sigh of relief that I’m not too late.
Fuck Heath and his ultimatums. I’m about to become Mrs. Elliot Lincoln.
The wedding was beautiful and the reception was everything I expected it to be, complete with a five-course sit-down dinner and ending with the seven-tier wedding cake made with ivory fondant that matched my dress, with strings of diamonds draped along the edges that matched my tiara. Elliot made sure every one of my requests were met. He’s accommodating that way. We say our goodbyes to our guests and make our way up to our suite. We’re staying at The Plaza New York, which is also the same hotel where our reception took place. Heath could learn a thing or two from Elliot when it comes to picking hotels. He might be able to make my body sing, but he has no idea what it takes to satisfy my other needs.
Once the elevator reaches the top floor and we get out, Elliot guides me into the luxurious bedroom. Turning me around, he begins to undo the buttons on my dress. “You looked absolutely breathtaking,” he murmurs into my ear before he places a chaste kiss to my neck. Because my dress is strapless, it falls in a heap onto the floor. I’m left standing here in nothing but my ivory bra and heels. He doesn’t comment on the fact I’m not wearing any panties. Instead, he lifts me into his arms and settles me down on the bed. I’m lying on my back and he’s kneeling over me as he rains soft kisses along my collarbone and all over my breasts while whispering sweet and loving words to me. His hand comes up and massages my breast, and I let out a groan he mistakes for pleasure and not annoyance.
“Elliot, pinch my nipples,” I murmur, jutting out my breasts.
His brows furrow in confusion. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His words remind me of the way Heath claimed me just a few short hours ago. The way he unapologetically took my ass, leaving me in such pleasurable pain.
“I want you to hurt me,” I insist sweetly. “Pinch my nipples. Bite them. Suck on them, please.”
Elliot’s frown deepens. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you’re my wife and I’m not hurting you.” His voice tells me he’s done with this conversation, so I don’t bother to reply. He spreads my legs and enters me. I flinch slightly at the intrusion, still deliciously sore from earlier, and I’m thankful in this moment that Elliot never lasts long.
He makes love to me, continuing to kiss my breasts and my neck, and once he comes, he rolls to his side and says, “Maybe tonight we made a baby.” He grins. “One that will be half of each of us. I’ve seen you doting on Francesca’s baby. Would you like one of your own?”
I’m shocked still at his words. Have I ever considered having a baby of my own? Surely not. I am only nineteen years old. I’m too young to be weighed down by a baby. Sure, my sister-in-law’s son is quite adorable, but that’s only because once he starts crying I can give him back. However, my mind goes back to the will, the one that stated in order to receive a second trust, I must produce an heir.
“I suppose so,” I answer slowly, “but I would need Helen with me to help. I wouldn’t know the slightest thing about taking care of a baby.”
Elliot beams, happy that I’ve told him what he wants to hear. “This, I can do.”
“She may not come willingly,” I warn. “She can be a cranky witch when she wants to be.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll make it happen. Helen will come to live with us at Low Valley Estate. Thank you, Catrina, for once again making me happy.”