Chapter 11 A Bride
Without a word, he scooped her up, pressing her flush against his burning skin as he carried her across the room, his rod still throbbing inside her.
The soft rustle of fabric and their rapid breaths filled the quiet space between them. His mouth found hers in a fierce, demanding kiss as he laid her down on the bed, hands never stopping their exploration.
Lorenzo’s lips drifted down to her collarbone, tracing a path of fire as his teeth nipped gently at the sensitive skin. Then his mouth closed around her nipple, sucking and teasing with a slow, deliberate hunger that made her arch beneath him, a shiver running through her.
His hands gripped her hips tight, pulling her up to meet him as he slid deeper inside her once more.
The heat between them flared instantly, the slick press of her walls gripping him like a vice.
He started to move—slow, punishing strokes that drove deep, each one stoking the fire licking at his control.
Krystal’s breath hitched again, a soft moan slipping past her lips as Lorenzo’s mouth left her breast to trail hot kisses along her jaw and down her neck. The scent of her skin, the taste of her sweat and desire—it was addictive, making him lose himself piece by piece.
“Fuck, Krystal…” he groaned, voice thick and desperate. His hands tangled in her hair, holding her steady while his hips slammed harder, faster. “You’re mine. Every inch.”
Her nails raked his back, the only sound between their ragged breaths and the wet, urgent rhythm of their bodies colliding. Lorenzo’s grip tightened on her hips as his cock pulsed inside her, the promise of release trembling on the edge.
And then, at last, he tipped over the edge—raw, explosive, burning through every nerve—his body shuddering as he emptied himself deep inside her, a guttural cry lost in the dark.
Krystal clung to him, their sweat mingling as they tumbled together into the hot aftermath, the world shrinking to just their ragged breathing and the pounding of two hearts still racing. Her breath hitched in ragged gasps, eyes fluttering shut as her heart hammered wildly beneath his touch.
He pulled out of her, then slid down her body. His mouth dove between her thighs, hunting for her slick heat. His rough, primal tongue ravaged her wet channel with hungry ferocity—teeth biting and tugging at her swollen clit one moment before soothing it with wet, teasing laps.
“Mhmmmmmhmm…” Krystal whimpered, her moans swallowed by the intensity. She couldn’t hear herself anymore; all she could do was feel—every lick, every nip, every pull burning through her skin.
His fingers found her nipples, pinching them hard as his thumbs flicked the sensitive tips with expert precision. The sharp sting mixed with the rough pleasure of his teeth tugging at her clit, sending jolts of fire racing through her veins.
Without warning, his long, thick fingers slipped inside her slick warmth, plunging deep and writhing like snakes, curling to find her most sensitive spot.
His tongue flicked hungrily at her soaked cunt while his other hand toyed mercilessly with her nipple, sending shudders through her trembling body.
Krystal was trapped under him, helpless and exposed—whimpering, moaning, crying out, her entire body straining. She was a mess, completely at his mercy, and Lorenzo showed none.
“Ahhh…” her cries echoed in the room as she shattered, wetness spilling over his mouth and dripping from her softness, pooling beneath her on the sheets.
Her scent and taste only fueled his hunger more, driving him wild. He gripped the backs of her thighs, hauling them higher until she was spread wide open for him, completely vulnerable. Then, he slammed his thick girth back inside her, filling her completely.
Hours slipped by like moments. He kept switching—licking her raw heat with feverish hunger, then plunging deep again, fucking her hard and fast. The rhythm repeated, relentless and fierce, pushing her over the edge again and again.
***
Esther stood in front of the mirror in a sexy lace lingerie set, fluffing her curls and adjusting the barely-there dress that clung to her curves.
The neckline plunged shamelessly, revealing enough to tempt any man, and the hem barely covered her hips.
Her skin glowed, soaked in expensive bath oils, her body smelling sweet and ready.
She smiled seductively at her reflection.
“If I get pregnant tonight, he won’t have a choice,” she whispered to herself. “He’ll marry me, and I’ll be the queen of everything he owns.”
She slipped out of her room and hurried across the hall to the suite opposite hers. Pulling out the second key card, she quietly unlocked the door to VIP Room 15.
“Lorenzo…” she called out sweetly, stepping inside the dimly lit suite. Her eyes scanned every corner, her voice soft and sultry.
No answer.
She made her way to the bathroom. Still no sign of him.
Her heart skipped.
“Lorenzo?” she called again, louder this time.
Nothing.
Her voice turned frantic. “Lorenzo?!”
When the silence continued, her face drained of color. The realization hit her hard.
“What the fuck?!” she screamed, grabbing a glass off the bar counter and hurling it across the room. It shattered into pieces.
“I paid a goddamn million for this!” she shouted, fury burning in her chest. “Where the hell did he go?!”
Her scream echoed through the empty suite, her veins burning with rage. Her plan—ruined.
***
The dull ache in Krystal’s back woke her. She turned slightly, blinking at the soft morning light streaming through the curtains.
Turning over, her eyes landed on Lorenzo, fast asleep beside her, one strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist. His face was nestled against her neck, soft breaths tickling her skin, lips brushing gently over her shoulder in his sleep.
She blinked again, staring up at the ceiling.
‘What an irony,’ she thought bitterly. ‘I didn’t sleep with him once in our two-year marriage. And now, when we’re finally getting divorced… we end up like this.’
She blinked, her eyes burning, and sat up with a quiet groan. Her back ached. Slipping out of the bed, she looked around the unfamiliar room—her gaze inevitably falling back on Lorenzo, still asleep.
“I should leave before he wakes up,” she muttered under her breath, nerves tightening in her chest.
A flicker of panic tightened her chest. ‘If he wakes up... would he think I drugged him?’ she thought, barely breathing. ‘Who can predict this Cactus' mood.’
Biting her lip, she moved fast. Her panic sharpened every movement. She grabbed her clothes and slipped them on in a hurry, her fingers fumbling through buttons and zippers. Then she tiptoed to the door, careful not to make a sound, and rushed down the stairs, out of the hotel without looking back.
Across the street, Darren was slouched in the driver’s seat, half-asleep despite the loud blare of horns and morning traffic. His head snapped up when she slammed the door and jumped inside the car.
“Ah—you came back,” he mumbled, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth. He blinked at her, startled. “You didn’t come back all night?”
Krystla turned to him, her glare sharp. “And you didn’t even come up to check if I was dead or alive?”
Darren gave an awkward chuckle, squirming in his seat. “C’mon, who’s gonna mess with you and walk away with their ass intact, honey?”
The way her glare deepened had him shutting up fast.
He cleared his throat and tried again. “I already changed our flights to this morning. If we leave now, we can catch it.”
“Cancel it,” she said flatly, yanking the seatbelt over her shoulder and clicking it in.
“You’re not looking for that guy from two years ago anymore?” Darren raised an eyebrow.
Krystle hesitated, biting her bottom lip. Her voice dropped. “I slept with Lorenzo last night.”
Darren let out a low whistle, his eyes teasing.
“Shut it,” she snapped, cutting him off. “He smelled, and felt exactly like that man from two years ago.”
“You’re serious?” Darren straightened up, fully alert now. “You’re telling me Lorenzo’s the guy you slept with back then? Holy shit. For real?”
She gave a small nod. “It’s him.” Her voice turned grim. “And now someone’s drugged him again. Only person I can think of is Esther. She’s trying to control him. Find out if she was around when it happened before—we’ll know for sure.”
Darren’s jaw clenched. “I’ll get it checked. I’ll see if Esther was around when that incident happened to you two years ago.”
“Good,” she said. “Also… erase the hotel footage from last night.”
Darren shot her a glance. “You think he’ll come after you?”
“I don’t want him accusing me of crawling into his bed to avoid divorcing him.”
“Yes, boss.” Darren chuckled dryly, reaching for his sunglasses and sliding them on. He started the engine. The Ferrari roared to life and sped off down the street, vanishing into the traffic.
***
“What the fuck…” Lorenzo groaned as he jolted awake.
His head pounded like a drum, pain slicing through his temples. He pushed himself upright and glanced around the suite. Empty.
The bed beside him was cold.
He stood up slowly, cracking his neck, his body stiff and sore. His gaze swept across the room—no sign of anyone. Everything was foggy, like pieces of a half-remembered dream he couldn’t fully grasp.
“Krystal?” he whispered.
He got up from the bed and roamed around the suite, but she was nowhere in sight. Could it be that he was mistaken? That it wasn’t Krystal he slept with?
But the woman last night—her scent, the feel of her skin, the way her body wrapped around him—it was exactly the same as the woman from two years ago. He’d never been with anyone else. His body knew her, remembered every inch, every breath, every trace of her scent.
But two years ago, that woman was Esther?
The realization hit like a jolt. He sucked in a shuddering, panicked breath, snatched his phone off the nightstand, and dialed Esther.