Chapter 30
GRACE
My father walks me down the aisle, and I’m thankful that the device tucked into my panties and pressed to my clit hasn’t started vibrating yet.
Kacey leads the procession down the ivory runner, wearing a gorgeous sapphire-blue dress styled by Vivian. Then the music shifts—strings swelling into something grand and timeless—and every head turns to me.
My legs shake as I take the first step.
Asher waits at the altar, hands clasped in front of him. The sharp cut of his tuxedo makes him look like he stepped out of a magazine spread. But his eyes burn as they lock onto mine.
My pulse hammers against the pearl collar locked around my throat, each step bringing me closer to him.
When I reach the altar, Dad kisses my cheek, places my hand in Asher's, then steps back.
The ceremony is in the Terrace Room at The Plaza, an ornate space coated in gold with its nods to the Gilded Age. It feels quintessentially New York, and while it's a little bold for my taste—and far beyond my budget—I can’t deny that it’s turned out beautifully.
Spring blooms cascade from every surface in whites and soft pinks. Rows of gilt chairs face forward, and on Asher’s side, they’re filled with Manhattan's elite. My side, however, is sparse, with just my immediate family.
Dad takes his seat next to my mother, who’s already dabbing her eyes with tissues pulled from her purse.
My brothers are both there. Luke smiles at me, but Owen’s eyes are narrowed on Asher, like he’s assessing to make sure he’s good enough for me.
He hasn’t taken the quick marriage news well, not that I thought he would.
The officiant begins, voice droning through the traditional script.
"Dearly beloved..."
Asher's thumb strokes across my knuckles. Once. Twice.
Then the vibration starts.
At first, it’s a subtle feeling. Teasing but not enough to make me come, just enough to keep me flustered.
I can handle that.
If he keeps it at this level, I can get through the wedding and then beg him to fuck me after. Yeah, that will work.
The officiant continues the ceremony, all the while Asher’s eyes locked on mine. We’re in our own little universe, where I’m his sub and he’s my Dom. Nothing outside of our bubble matters.
My breath hitches at a sudden change in sensation. Heat blooms between my thighs, spreading fast and mercilessly. I lock my knees, fingers tightening around his.
The officiant continues. "...gathered here today..."
And then the vibrations increase, and I can see the little smile that tics up on Asher’s face as he enjoys torturing me. It’s not enough to push me over, but enough to make my thighs clench and my core tighten.
I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing my face into something resembling composure.
Smile. Breathe.
The vows begin, and Asher repeats each one while looking into my eyes. I can barely hear past the buzzing in my ears and the pleasure growing inside me.
When it’s my turn, he thankfully turns it back down, giving me a moment to catch my breath as the officiant guides me through my vows.
I sound shaken, and to anyone else, I probably look and sound like an emotional bride on her wedding day.
Which is probably better for the facade.
But internally, I’m melting, desperate for this whole thing to be over so I can finally come.
If only they knew.
But as soon as I say I do, the vibrations return with a vengeance. The speed has increased, and a tremor runs through me.
Please, god, no.
I can feel my orgasm cresting. I sway slightly.
The vibration pulses higher.
We must have reached the part when we exchange rings because Asher slides a platinum band onto my finger, the weight of it grounding and possessive all at once. I mirror the gesture, my hands trembling as I push the matching band onto his.
"By the power vested in me..."
My knees buckle. Asher's arm wraps around my waist, steadying me, pulling me close. To everyone else, it looks romantic. Protective.
Only I know the truth.
"...I now pronounce you husband and wife."
The pulse inside me crescendos; precision and cruelty wound tight together.
"You may kiss the bride."
Asher's hand slides to the small of my back, fingers pressing into the silk. He lowers his mouth to mine, claiming me in front of three hundred witnesses.
And I shatter.
The orgasm tears through me, white-hot and blinding, my body clenching around the toy as my lips part against his. He swallows my gasp, tongue sliding against mine, kissing me deeper as I come apart in his arms.
Applause erupts around us.
He pulls back just enough to murmur against my mouth, "Good girl."
My legs won't hold me. He keeps me upright, hand firm at my waist, that insufferable smirk hidden behind a mask of perfect composure.
The vibration stops, and I'm left shaking, flushed, barely able to stand as he turns us toward the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the officiant announces, "Mr. and Mrs. Caine."
Asher gets me out of the ceremony room as quickly as possible.
“Mr. Caine, we need to do photos–”
“Not now,” he snaps at the coordinator, shoving me back into my dressing room and locking the door.
I’m panting by the time we’re finally alone.
He pins me against the door, mouth crashing into mine before I can draw a breath.
"Asher…" I whimper. I’m feeling needier than I ever have.
His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back to expose the pearls locked at my throat. "You were perfect out there. Coming on command like the good little wife you are."
Heat floods through me, fresh arousal pooling despite the orgasm still thrumming in my veins.
His fingers find the zipper at my spine, dragging it down in one smooth motion. The bodice falls away, and he tugs the dress down my hips until it falls to the floor in a puddle of silk.
I stand before him in nothing but white lace panties, thigh-high stockings, and the collar.
"Look at you." His gaze rakes over me, possessive and hungry. "Wearing my ring. My collar. Still dripping from coming in front of hundreds of people like a dirty little slut."
A moan tears from my throat as my legs tremble. He’s right. I did love it. Obeying him, knowing that I belong to him, even in a room full of people, made me come harder than ever.
"You loved that, didn't you?" He circles me slowly, predatory. "Knowing there was nothing you could do as I controlled your pleasure."
"Yes, Sir," I respond breathlessly.
"You're my little plaything, aren't you, Sugar?" His hand slides between my thighs, fingers pressing against the soaked lace. "I can make you come wherever, whenever, and however much I want."
"Please—"
"Please, what?" He yanks the panties down, the vibrator tumbling out with them. "Use your words."
"Please, fuck me. Please…"
The sound he makes is dark and satisfied. He leans in, lips finding mine as he devours me. His fingers trace the curves of my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“I love hearing you beg,” he purrs against my throat, his teeth nipping at the skin. Electricity shoots down my spine, and my entire body tingles with the need coursing through me.
I open my mouth to beg him again, to plead with him to please fuck me because I need to know what it feels like to have him inside me, but I don’t get the chance.
Before I even catch my breath from the kiss, he’s spinning me around, and I gasp as he bends me over the vanity.
My palms hit the surface, sending lipsticks and brushes scattering.
I see myself in the mirror, looking like a wanton woman, desperate for anything this man might give me.
And that’s how I feel. It’s all consuming, the desire I have for him.
He meets my eyes in the mirror as he reaches around, palming my breast through my bra before slipping his fingers under the white material and pinching my nipple. I whimper, seeing the pleased look on his face, a look that only seems to make me wetter.
He lets go and I hear his belt, the rasp of his zipper, the crinkle of a condom wrapper. And then he's pressing against me, thick and impossibly hard.
God.
He's big, which I knew from sucking his cock, but now as the head nudges my entrance, hesitance momentarily takes over.
“It’s not–” I wiggle, pouting up at him in our reflection.
Shaking his head, he looks into my eyes, hands gripping my hips tightly. “It’ll fit, Sugar.”
I whimper as he stretches me, relishing the burn as he slides his way in.
"That's it." He pushes in farther, gripping my hair so my eyes stay on his in the mirror. "Take it all."
I bite down on my lip as he fills me, inch by devastating inch. The burn bleeds into pleasure, my body yielding to accommodate him until he's buried completely.
"Fuck." His fingers dig into my flesh. "So tight."
I’m so incredibly full of him, and immediately I love the feeling.
He pulls back and thrusts deep, setting a brutal rhythm that has me crying out with each stroke. The vanity rattles beneath us, the mirror reflecting my flushed face, my parted lips.
The collar catches the light with each movement.
“Keep your eyes on me, Sugar.”
I look up so our eyes meet in the mirror. His pupils are blown wide, and he’s gripping my hips as he slams into me.
"Such a good girl." His hand wraps around my throat, fingers pressing against the pearls. "Taking my cock so well on our wedding day. Tell me, wife, how much you love being my dirty little girl. I want to hear it.”
I'm floating, lost in sensation. Nothing exists except this—his body claiming mine, the praise falling from his lips, the pleasure building again. I’m not sure I can even form a sentence, but when I don’t respond, Asher’s hand lands on my ass with a crack.
“Fuck!” I hiss, but it turns into a moan.
“Answer me,” he demands, not slowing his pace as he thrusts into me over and over.
“I l-love it,” I choke out. “Being your dirty little slut, Sir.” I should be ashamed of the words leaving my lips, but I’m not.
I do love it. More than just the killer orgasms, I love the way my brain shuts off, the way he takes control, and I’m just here for him to use as he pleases.
There’s still that part of me that thinks I should find it dirty and shameful, but when he holds me and soothes away his degrading words with praise and worship, that part of me drifts away.
“That’s my good girl.” Smoothing his hand down my neck and to my breasts, he toys with each before going lower. As his finger finds my clit, pressing on the bundle of nerves, a bolt of electricity zings through my body. I’m still so sensitive from the vibrator, I can barely handle his light touch.
"Asher— I can't—"
"Yes, you can." His voice is steel and silk. "Come for me again. Show me what a desperate little wife you are."
The dual sensation is too much. I hear my arousal as he takes charge of my body.
His cock stretching me, hitting something deep and perfect, alternating between grinding and pounding into me.
All it takes is a few swirls over my clit, and my inner walls are clenching around him, every muscle in my body tensing.
This orgasm rips through me harder than the first as I scream his name. He groans, hips stuttering as he follows me over the edge, spilling inside the condom with a muttered curse.
We stay frozen, both panting, my body still trembling with aftershocks.
“Fuck,” he grumbles, pressing a kiss to my shoulder and trailing more up my neck and to my cheek. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
When I sag against him, he lifts me up and settles me in a plush chair before fetching a washcloth to clean me.
“You did so good, Sugar,” he murmurs softly, pulling me onto his lap and holding me there. I’m not sure how long we stay like this, him drawing circles on my back while I listen to his heartbeat and slowly come back from subspace.
After, he slides me back into my dress, fixes my hair, and wipes away my smudged mascara.
And then he walks me back out to our guests as if he didn’t just fuck me into oblivion.