Wednesday morning hit like a hangover I hadn’t earned. I woke up alone in the condo—Nadia had slipped out around 4 a.m. after the last round, whispering "I can’t stay, Ethan will notice" like she was trying to convince herself more than . Her side of the bed was still warm, sheets tangled, faint scent of her vanilla perfu and sex hanging in the air. I lay there staring at the ceiling for ten minutes, replaying the way she’d sobbed my na while begging to breed her one more ti before she left.
The system, never one to miss a dramatic mont, chid in before I even sat up.
[Nadia – Loyalty Shift: 97% → 99%. She cried in the elevator on the way down. Not from guilt. From relief. She’s one honest conversation away from torching the engagent ring. You absolute nace.]
Cash Deposit: $11,000. "Emotional Collapse Bonus." At this rate you’ll have enough to buy her a new wedding dress... or just the venue for your own.]
I laughed—short, rough—into the quiet room. Keep score all you want, blue. I’m winning.
Shower. Coffee. Gym. I pushed heavy—deadlifts until my back scread, bench until my chest burned. Rico Valdez spotted again, clapped on the shoulder when I re-racked 405.
"You’re possessed, man," he said. "What’s the secret?"
"Married won," I deadpanned.
He barked a laugh. "Dangerous secret. I like it."
Lunch: quick stop at a food truck near Midtown. Tacos al pastor, eaten standing up while I scrolled emails. Rebecca had sent a follow-up: "Forms processed. Insurance switched. Thank you... and last night. Let’s celebrate soon?" Attached was a selfie—her in lingerie, freckles glowing, caption: "Patiently waiting for my consultant’s next appointnt."
I saved the photo. Smiled.
Afternoon: office. Tyler was out sick, so I had the place to myself. I sat at the desk, reviewed Priya Patel’s file again. Doctor’s wife. HOA tyrant. Already venting to Rebecca about her husband’s "late nights at the hospital." The system pinged.
[New Target: Priya Patel – Arousal Baseline: 14% → 19% (referral from Rebecca). Boredom level: terminal. Schedule her before she starts humping the HOA bylaws.]
I drafted an email—polite, professional, with just enough warmth to plant the seed. Sent it. Felt the web tightening.
By 6 p.m. Nadia texted again.
Nadia: I told Ethan I have a late client eting tonight.
Nadia: I lied to his face. Looked him in the eye and lied.
Nadia: I’m scared. And so fucking turned on.
Nadia: Your place. 8:30. I need you to make forget everything.
I stared at the ssage for a long minute.
: Door’s open. Bring the engagent ring. I want to see it while I fuck you.
Three dots. Long pause.
Nadia: ...Okay.
She arrived at 8:32. Navy wrap dress again—different one this ti, tighter, shorter. Hair up in a ssy bun, makeup flawless but eyes red-rimd. She stepped inside, closed the door, and held out her left hand.
The engagent ring glinted—simple solitaire, tasteful, expensive. Ethan’s choice.
I took her hand. Kissed the ring—slow, deliberate. Then kissed her wrist. Then her palm.
She shivered.
"I hate that I’m doing this," she whispered.
"Then leave," I said quietly. "Go ho to him. Marry him. Have his kids. Be safe."
She looked up—eyes glassy, fierce.
"I can’t."
I pulled her close. Kissed her—slow, deep, claiming. She lted—hands clutching my shirt, body pressing against mine like she was drowning.
I walked her backward to the living room. Didn’t rush. Lit candles on the coffee table. Poured wine—two glasses. Handed her one.
"Sit," I said.
She sat on the couch. Legs crossed. Dress riding up. Ring still on her finger.
I sat across from her in the armchair. Sipped wine. Let silence stretch.
"Tell about the wedding," I said finally.
She swallowed. Voice small.
"October 14th. St. Philip’s Cathedral. White roses. 200 guests. Ethan’s family flying in from Chicago. My dress is... ivory lace. Sleeveless. Long train. Mom cried when I tried it on."
I nodded. Sipped again.
"And Ethan?"
"He’s... excited. Keeps showing honeymoon brochures. Maldives. Private villa. He wants kids right after. Says he can’t wait to start a family."
I set my glass down. Stood. Walked over. Kneeled in front of her—between her legs.
"Open."
She parted her thighs. Dress fell open. No panties. Just glistening heat.
I leaned in. Kissed her inner thigh—slow, soft. Moved higher. Kissed the other thigh. Blew cool air over her clit.
She whimpered.
I looked up. t her eyes.
"Keep talking."
She did—voice shaking.
"Reception at the Four Seasons. Open bar. First dance to ’Can’t Help Falling in Love.’ He’s practicing the speech. Says he’s the luckiest man alive."
I licked once—long, flat stroke from entrance to clit.
She gasped. Hips bucked.
"Continue."
"He... he wants to renew vows on our tenth anniversary. Says forever isn’t long enough."
I sucked her clit gently. Then harder. Two fingers slid inside—curled. Pumped slow.
She moaned—loud, broken. "David—fuck—please—"
"Keep going," I murmured against her.
"The cake is vanilla with raspberry filling. My maid of honor is Sofia—she keeps asking why I’m so distracted. I told her pre-wedding jitters."
I added a third finger. Thumb on her clit. Tongue flicking fast.
She ca—sudden, violent. Squirting on my chin, thighs shaking, screaming my na while still wearing his ring.
I didn’t stop. Kept licking through it. Fingers stroking. She ca again—quieter, trembling, tears slipping down her cheeks.
Only then did I rise. Pulled her to her feet.
"Bedroom," I said.
She followed—dress half-off, ring glinting in candlelight.
In the bedroom, candles flickered. Bed turned down. I pushed her gently onto the mattress. She lay back—dress pooled around her waist, legs spread, ring still on her finger.
I stripped slow—shirt off, jeans down, boxers last. Cock hard, thick, ready.
She watched—eyes dark, hungry. Hand drifted between her legs—touching herself while she stared.
"Don’t," I said. "That’s mine now."
She pulled her hand away. Whimpered.
I climbed over her. Kissed her neck. Down her chest. Sucked nipples—slow, deliberate. Bit gently. She arched—moaning.
"Tell you’ll wear white for him... and drip underneath."
"Yes—yes—I’ll walk down the aisle... feeling you leak out... knowing I’m already bred..."
I moved lower. Kissed her stomach. Spread her thighs. Ate her again—tongue on clit, fingers curling inside, thumb teasing her ass.
She ca twice more—once loud and squirting, once quiet and trembling.
I rose up. Rubbed the head through her folds—coating myself.
"Look at ."
Eyes locked.
"Put the ring in your mouth."
She hesitated. Then slid the engagent ring off. Placed it on her tongue. Closed her lips around it.
I pushed in—slow, deep. Buried to the hilt.
She moaned around the ring—muffled, desperate.
I started moving—long, grinding strokes. Deep. Controlled.
"Keep it in your mouth," I growled. "Taste your future while I fuck your present."
She nodded—tears slipping. Ring between her teeth.
I sped up. Pounded harder. Bed banging. Her tits bouncing. I grabbed one—squeezed.
She ca—body convulsing, pussy clamping, ring almost falling out. She caught it—sucked harder.
I flipped her onto her stomach. Ass up. Slamd back in from behind. Spanked. Pulled hair.
"Beg."
She spat the ring onto the pillow. Voice raw.
"Please—fill —breed —make yours while I marry him—"
I pounded faster. Balls slapping. Wet, filthy sounds.
"Say it."
"I’m yours—not his—never his—fuck—co inside—"
I buried deep. Ca hard—thick ropes flooding her. She milked , screaming, coming again—squirting, shaking.
We collapsed.
She curled against —ring back on her finger, wet with saliva and co.
"I don’t know how to do this," she whispered.
"You don’t have to yet," I said. "Just keep coming back."
The system flared.
[Nadia – Loyalty Shift: 99%. Wedding status: "Irrelevant." She’ll be calling it off... or fucking you in the church bathroom. Either way, mission accomplished.]
Cash Deposit: $25,000. "Pre-Wedding Netori Jackpot." Enjoy the view from the altar, bull.]
I kissed her temple.
October 14th.
I’d be there.
And she’d never say "I do."
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