Chapter 605: Tear the Dress, Fuck the Bride
The hotel where I took her was a tower of glass and gold, the kind of place where the staff knew better than to ask questions. I’d booked the presidential suite.
The mont the door clicked shut behind us, the city noise faded into silence. It was just us. The air between us was thick with anticipation, with the scent of her perfu and the ghost of her moans still clinging to my skin.
Julie hesitated in the foyer, her fingers twisting in the hem of her dress. "I want to take a shower, but I don’t have any clothes," she admitted, her voice small.
I cupped her face, tilting her chin up until her eyes t mine. "I know." My thumb brushed her lower lip. "Go shower. I’ll take care of everything."
She searched my face for a long mont, then nodded, slipping into the bathroom. The sound of the water starting up filled the silence, steam curling under the door. I waited until I heard the distinct click of the lock engaging—Julie, ever cautious—before I moved.
The wedding dress was heavier than I expected. Not in weight, but in aning. I pulled it from the System storage with deliberate care, the fabric whispering against my fingers like a secret. Ivory silk, delicate lace, a cascade of tiny pearl buttons down the back—every detail designed to make her look like a dream. My dream.
I laid it out on the vanity in the dressing room, smoothing the skirt with slow, deliberate hands. The fabric was cool beneath my palms, pristine, untouched—just like Julie had been before . Well, almost pristine. The thought sent a jolt of heat through , my cock already half-hard just imagining her in it. Bare beneath it.
Then I knocked on the bathroom door. "Julie. Your clothes are out here."
Silence. The water shut off with a final hiss, the sudden quiet thick with anticipation. "Okay," she called, her voice muffled by the door, by steam, by the racing of my own pulse. "Thank you."
I didn’t answer. Words weren’t needed. Not when the air between us was already charged with sothing far more potent.
Instead, I pulled out my phone and texted Hannah.
Not because I wanted to. But because I had to.
One wrong move, one unchecked spark of her jealousy, and she’d torch everything—Julie’s happiness, this night, the fragile balance I’d spent months maintaining. The ssage was short. Deliberate. A warning wrapped in civility.
"Taking Julie away for the night. No interruptions."
The reply ca instantly. Three dots pulsed on the screen—Hannah typing, deleting, typing again. I could practically see her on the other end, lips pressed into a thin line, fingers gripping her phone too tightly. Finally, her response appeared:
"You’re lucky I like you, Jack. But you have to take
on a date."
I smirked, thumbs flying over the screen. "Next ti. I promise."
I didn’t wait for her reply. Didn’t care. Silencing my phone, I tossed it onto the bed like it was nothing—because right now, it was. The only thing that mattered was the soft click of the bathroom lock disengaging. The slow, deliberate turn of the handle.
And then—
The door swung open.
Julie stepped out, naked, her skin still glistening from the shower, droplets sliding down the curve of her spine, the swell of her breasts. She was wiping herself with a towel, distracted, until her eyes landed on the dress lying out before her.
She froze.
The towel slipped from her fingers, pooling at her feet. "Jack..." Her voice was a breathless gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. "This—what—?"
I leaned against the doorfra, arms crossed, drinking in the sight of her—flushed, stunned, perfect. "This is for my wife," I said, my voice rough with possession. "I want to see you in it."
Julie’s eyes shimred, her lips parting in a smile so bright it was almost blinding. "Wait," she whispered, already backing toward the dressing room, her cheeks pink. "I’ll be right back. And no peeking." She pointed a finger at , playful but firm, before disappearing inside and shutting the door with a decisive click.
I chuckled, shaking my head. Like I’d ever let her have that kind of control.
The wait was torture.
I could hear the rustle of fabric, the soft shhh of the dress sliding over her skin, the occasional muffled curse as she fumbled with the buttons. My cock throbbed, impatient, my mind already racing ahead to how I’d tear the damn thing off her later.
Then—finally—the door creaked open.
Julie stepped out, and fuck.
Julie stood before , her body trembling not from cold but from the way I was looking at her—like I wanted to devour her. The ivory silk clung to her curves, the lace hugging her waist before flaring out in a cascade of fabric that whispered against her thighs.
But it was the betrayal of the dress that had my cock throbbing: the way her hard nipples pressed against the thin material, the shadow of her bare pussy beneath the layers, the knowledge that she was completely naked underneath.
"You look..." My voice was a gravelly snarl, fingers already tracing the stupid little pearls down her spine like they were obstacles to be destroyed. The heat of her skin burned through the fabric, her breath hitching as I circled her like a wolf sizing up dinner. "Too fucking perfect."
Her lips parted—"Jack, we can’t just—"—but I didn’t let her finish.
One arm hooked under her knees, the other crushing her against my chest as I lifted her like she weighed nothing and slamd her down onto the bed. The mattress groaned under her, the white monstrosity of her wedding dress pooling around her like a surrender flag.
My mouth crashed onto hers, teeth clashing, tongue forcing its way past her lips like I was already fucking her there. She whimpered into it, her fingers clawing at my shoulders—finally sothing honest in this goddamn charade.
I pulled my mouth away, breathing hard as I drank in the sight of her sprawled out in that stupid, lying dress.
The neckline was all prim little lace, the fabric clinging to her tits like it was afraid to let go. I grabbed her tits and was going to tear her dress to let her tits out.
"Jack, the dress—!" Julie’s voice was half protest as she noticed what I was upto.
"I don’t give a fuck about the dress."
With one brutal yank, I tore the fabric straight down the middle, the sound of ripping lace and popping buttons like gunfire in the silent room.
Her tits spilled free, heavy and pale, nipples hard as fucking diamonds—dark pink, already pebbled, begging for my mouth. The cool air hit them, and they tightened even more, the little buds standing up like they were asking for my teeth.
"Oh my—! Jack, you ruined it!" Julie’s hands flew up to cover herself, but I snatched her wrists, pinning them above her head.
"Good," I growled, my free hand already sliding down, fingers hooking into the delicate lace between her thighs. "Now I get to ruin you too."
She squird as I tugged, the fabric resisting for half a second before giving way with a wet, tearing sound. The last barrier shredded, and there it was—her cunt, bare and dripping, lips already swollen, glistening with arousal.
The scent of her hit
like a punch—musky, sweet, thick with need—and I groaned, my cock throbbing against my zipper.
Reviews
All reviews (0)