Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Ella
The bedroom glowed dimly under a single lamp. I sat on the edge of the bed, slowly loosening the wedding dress straps that dug into my ribs like vices. Lace pooled on the floor with a soft rustle. The silence hit hard—nothing like the flower-drenched chaos of the wedding an hour ago.
My body still buzzed with unreality. I'd married Lucas Rockefeller—the kingpin of that business empire. I was Mrs. Rockefeller now, with endless cash and servants at my beck and call...
Footsteps pounded down the hall. Before I could react, the door slammed open.
Lucas stood in the doorway, backlit and stern. The shadows carved his features sharper, making him look even more distant and alluring. His eyes colder than usual, like those judging saints in church windows, radiating untouchable authority.
But that superior vibe just cranked my pulse higher.
My mind flashed to porn scenes I'd seen. Tonight was our wedding night. We should be reenacting that shit. My panties soaked through at the thought.
"Lucas..."
His name slipped out in a shaky moan.
His gaze darkened instantly, sharp as a blade, lingering on my face before dropping to my half-exposed chest and cinched waist.
That look chilled me to the bone. I shivered.
Memories hit from wedding prep, staff gossiping about Lucas's endless one-night stands...
Could he tell what I wanted? My face burned. His shirt buttoned to the top, cuffs pristine, while my nightgown strap hung off my elbow, neckline gaping—like I was desperate to fuck.
Shame killed the heat. I fumbled to cover up, mumbling, "Maybe I should sleep in the—"
Guest room. But he moved. Those long legs closed the distance in two strides. Whiskey and cedar stole my breath. He loomed over me, forcing me back onto the bed.
"You drunk?" My voice barely whispered, mind blank.
"You shouldn't tempt me like this." His low, magnetic tone shot through my veins like electricity. Before I could process, his hand cradled the back of my head, pulling me in.
Then he kissed me.
His tongue forced my teeth apart, claiming every inch. I forgot to breathe.
"Take it all off then." He murmured against my lips, the vibration tingling.
It hit me. He saw me as some slut seducing him, not a wife to respect. Worse, my body agreed. My panties were drenched, soaking the sheets.
One hand pinned my shoulder; the other snagged my nightgown zipper and yanked.
God, how many women had he stripped to get this smooth?
I tried to fight, but words stuck in my throat, just whimpers. He outmatched me in strength, skill, everything. In seconds, I was naked, exposed under his burning stare. He stayed clothed, eyes locked on me.
Shame flooded in. I grabbed for the blanket. He shoved me flat in the center.
Pain hissed through me. I scrambled to escape, but he pinned me down, blocking every way out. One hand kneaded my breast, the other roamed, each touch punishing. Until it dipped between my legs.
I tensed, a deep ache surging. My core pressed against his fingers.
"Ella," he growled my name. "You're a virgin?"
I admitted it, humiliated. "Yeah."
Everything about me laid bare.
He hooked my lace panties aside, a rough finger sliding into my dripping slit, rubbing along the walls and clit.
"Oh God, Lucas."
My legs twisted, moans escaping. The air thickened with hormones and scent, like an aphrodisiac. Waves pulsed from my gut, spilling onto his hand.
"So tight..."
He eased in a second finger, scissoring, stretching the slick folds with slow scrapes. Gentle now, fingertips circling the sensitive spots, grinding until I was soaked, every thrust pulling more wetness. It dragged on, turning discomfort to hollow craving, begging for more.
"Lucas, please," I panted, voice faint.
He chuckled low, adding a third. "Relax."
I wanted him to pull out, give me a second.
But my body betrayed me, clenching greedily, chasing the friction.
Until a sharp urge built deep inside. I arched, screaming as liquid gushed out in a shameful flood.
I came. Yeah, I knew that much. From his casual fingering, I lost it. Embarrassed as hell, but craving more.
The bed dipped. Slick hands spread my thighs wide. Before I could think, his full lips covered my pulsing core.
He sucked hard, swallowing it all.
My heart squeezed. "No, Lucas!"
"Tastes good," he mumbled, licking again. I squirmed, but his tongue sped up, long and firm, lapping the seam. Soon, I gaped open, slick and obscene.
He was damn good—honed on who knows how many women.
His tongue plunged deep, sometimes light flicks, mostly brutal thrusts like a beast rutting. He panted heavily, tongue twisting inside, circling quivering walls.
Another wave built. To hold it back, I gripped his hair, sinking into the mattress, hips grinding against his face.
He lifted my ass higher. Tongue drilled in, nose grinding my clit.
"Relax, Ella." His breath hot and ragged. When he curled it around that deep spot, I shattered. Liquid surged like a dam breaking, body convulsing as I screamed his name, bucking into him. He slurped noisily, every drop down his throat.
In the aftershocks, I heard his belt unbuckle, fabric rustling. He tossed his clothes, parting the bed curtains. Dim light revealed him stroking a massive cock, veins bulging, tip glistening.
"Lucas, please..." Scared of the size, but my body ached to be filled. Even my nipples throbbed.
"So eager?" He laughed, edged with cruelty.
Knees nudged my thighs apart. His scorching tip pressed my entrance.
The head inched in, way thicker than fingers. My folds quivered, struggling.
Inexperienced, but I tried. Lifted my hips, taking him deeper bit by bit. Each inch stretched me fuller, a tingling pleasure rippling out, nerves screaming. Soon, I hit my limit, stuffed to the brim.
"You look fucking irresistible. Gonna fuck you till you can't walk."
His dirty words lit me up. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto my stomach, scorching. He stared at our join, eyes reddening with danger. It scared me.
"What are you doing?" I whispered.
"Ella, don't pull away." He inhaled sharply, hands clamping my hips, fingers digging like nails.
Danger hit too late. He lunged forward, massive frame crushing me, mouth latching onto my nipple, sucking hard as he drove deeper.
Pleasure crashed over me. I arched up.
"Almost there, Ella," he mumbled around it.
Fresh pain swelled. I realized. "No, Lucas... don't..."
But he had me locked. No escape. He forced my thighs against him, head grinding deeper, slow and relentless, doubling the force. The stretch burned, sweat pouring, every second agony.
"You're doing great... Ella... look how much you've taken..."
He paused, voice admiring. I whimpered, at my edge, words failing. Just when I thought it was over, his cock swelled inside, slamming forward, filling me completely.
God, there was more outside?
The thrust hit my core, stomach quaking. I yelped.
My walls gushed to accommodate, sucking him with wet slaps.
"Slow down..." I twisted, moaning.
He growled, pounding faster, abs slapping my mound, balls smacking my ass. Each hit sparked electric numbness.
I bit my lip, soaked in sweat, mind blurring. Time vanished—he jackhammered endlessly, hitting depths that drowned me in ecstasy. I tried pushing him off, arms flailing weakly with his thrusts, voice shattering: "Wait... uh... slow... slower..."
He caught my resistance, diving to kiss me, silent, merciless.
I whimpered into it. His tongue mirrored his cock, owning me.
The raw invasion fused us, senses lost except where we connected.
He sped up, ruthless, shaking me. I slammed into the headboard, thumping loudly.
To quiet it, I clung to his sweaty neck, muscles bulging.
Ages passed. My body reacted shamefully. He angled just right, curved head nailing that numbing spot. I chased it, electric bursts spreading, wave after wave battering my nerves. Something built inside, a flood ready to burst—terrifying, addictive.
"Come for me, Ella." His voice rumbled in my ear.
It electrocuted me. Ecstasy exploded from our join, frying my brain.
I broke, walls clamping his cock, squirting like I'd lost control.
Overwhelming, I shook, barely conscious.
Seconds later, he stiffened, roaring as hot cum blasted deep, flooding my womb like endless heat.
The fullness trembled me again, mind scattering.
He didn't pull out, thrusting slowly to plug it in, instinct driving him to breed.
I woke trembling, fingers slipping into my panties without thinking. My middle finger found the swollen clit, circling slowly to chase the dream's void.
The bed felt empty. My husband, who should've been here, had been screwing another woman for three days straight, doing everything we should've done. Me? Stuck fantasizing about him while I touched myself.
Pathetic. Logic screamed to forget Lucas—we'd split soon. But my body wouldn't listen.
I couldn't stop. One finger slid in easily, walls gripping hot. Not enough. I added a second, stretching, curling up to hit that shaking spot.
I pumped slowly, moans spilling out. In my head, Lucas buried his veined monster deep, thrusting brutally. The image heated my core—I fucked myself harder, fingers slamming faster.
"Come for me, Ella." His voice echoed.
Climax hit like a tidal wave, building fierce. But right at the peak, nausea surged from my gut.
I bolted up, stumbling to the bathroom. No time for lights. I hurled over the toilet.
Bile burned my throat. I slumped against the edge, mind reeling. What the hell?
My eyes caught the empty trash can. A thought struck.
I hadn't used a tampon in two months.
Two months.
It doused me like ice water, snapping me alert.
No way.
Impossible.
I rinsed my hands, grabbed my phone back in the bedroom, searching symptoms: delayed period, vomiting, raging libido...
"Pregnancy" popped up.
No, no, no... not now?
I scrolled frantically, words blurring. Cold sweat slicked my palms; I nearly dropped the phone.
If I was pregnant, what then?
I'd finally decided on divorce, papers ready, two days from freedom. Now this—maybe carrying Lucas's kid?
Absurd.
A sick joke.
Dawn crept in outside.
I wiped tears, changed, and headed to the drugstore for a test. Needed answers to plan.
I slipped out the manor's back door, dodging servants—the place was huge; I could vanish all day unnoticed.
Half an hour later, inside the store. Doors hissed shut behind me, mint and antiseptic hitting. As I neared the shelves, whispers floated from behind.
"Did you see the morning paper? Rockefeller's CEO. God, he's hot!"
"And that stunner next to him, like an engagement photo!"
"Wait, isn't his wife someone else? She picks up meds here all the time."
"Just some lucky average chick. Pretty face got her married, but once he's bored, bye-bye!"
"Yeah, rich guys marry and divorce like it's nothing."
I froze by the glass case. They hadn't noticed me. Wanted to call out, but choked—were they talking about me?
Rustling behind the shelf. A middle-aged woman shot up, panicked, holding pill boxes.
"Mrs... Mrs. Rockefeller?" Their eyes darted like startled cats.
They knew me. I fought the urge to bolt. I needed my stuff. "Three different pregnancy tests, please."
My face burned from neck to scalp as their words replayed: paper, Rockefeller, other woman.
She handed over the boxes. My legs carried me to the newspaper rack. Didn't even grab it—the front page photo screamed.
Half the damn page.
I stared: Crystal chandeliers gleaming. Lucas in a tailored dark suit, chin up, all elite aloofness. Vivian looped on his arm, leaning in, eyes sparkling with joy.
Picture-perfect like a magazine cover. No wonder it headlined. Sales would skyrocket. Everyone seeing Lucas and Vivian, thinking: what a match!
His words from that fight with Mr. Rockefeller echoed: Vivian was the one fit to be his wife.
He didn't just say it. He showed the world. She was his real love.
Me? Just a forgotten nobody rotting in the manor.
The store went dead quiet.
I felt their stares burning—strangers gawking at my mess. My stomach churned, acid rising. Morning sickness or pure disgust? Who knew.
"Can I use the bathroom?"
She pointed. I staggered in.
In the stall, I slumped against the door, sliding down. Thought I'd cry, but no tears. My chest burned, something igniting.
Anger.
Hot enough to torch every feeling for Lucas.
Last night, I'd tangled love and hate, pitifully hoping he'd turn back. Now? All gone. I wouldn't give a damn about his moods, his life, or who he fucked.
It was over. I cut ties. Lucas, my husband, meant nothing anymore.
Stepping out of the store, a black sedan screeched to a stop right in front.
I looked up into Lucas's oppressive gray-blue eyes through the window.