Chapter 9: Wedding Night
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind them, sealing off the muffled sounds of polite conversation and clinking glasses from the vestry. Silence, thick and expectant, filled the lavish honeymoon suite. The air hung heavy with the scent of expensive lilies arranged in crystal vases and Kacey’s own cloying perfume, underscored now by the raw musk of sex still clinging to them from the sacrilege in the church office. Tony’s large hand remained clamped possessively on Kacey’s hip, fingers digging into the lace basque beneath her scandalous gown, guiding her deeper into the opulent room.
Plush champagne-colored carpet swallowed the sharp click of her Louboutins. Silk drapes the color of midnight fell in heavy folds over floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city lights. A king-sized bed dominated the space, draped in velvet the deep purple of a bruise, piled high with pillows. A crystal chandelier cast a soft, golden glow, catching the dust motes dancing in the air and glinting off the diamonds at Kacey’s throat and ears. It was a sanctuary of wealth, a stark, brutal contrast to the desperate rutting against the parish register desk mere minutes ago.
Tony stopped them near the foot of the bed. He turned Kacey to face him, his dark eyes sweeping over her disheveled glory. Her veil was gone, lost somewhere between the altar and the office. Her elaborate blonde hairstyle was half-undone, strands escaping the diamond ornament. Her lipstick was smeared, a testament to his brutal kiss. The plunging back of her gown gaped open, revealing the intricate white lace basque beneath, straps digging into her hips and thighs. The delicate fabric was slightly damp with sweat, clinging to the pronounced swell of her pregnancy bump – his bump. The skirt of her gown was crumpled, bunched awkwardly where he’d shoved it up.
"You look properly fucked, Mrs. Reynolds," Tony rumbled, a dark satisfaction in his voice. His thumb brushed roughly over her smudged lower lip. "Just like you should."
Kacey shivered, her green eyes wide and dark with residual lust. "You ruined me," she breathed, not in accusation, but in awe. "Right there… in front of him… in front of God."
Tony chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "God had a front-row seat to what a real man does to his property." His hand slid down from her hip, over the curve of her lace-covered arse cheek, fingers tracing the edge where the basque met her stocking top. "James paid for the dress," he mused, his fingers hooking into the delicate lace strap near her thigh, "but I'm the one tearing it off you." With a sharp, deliberate motion, he ripped the strap. The delicate lace tore with a soft, obscene sound. Kacey gasped, not in pain, but in startled arousal.
He didn't stop. His hands, large and powerful, gripped the bodice of the expensive gown near her waist. The near-transparent lace and beadwork offered no resistance. He tore downwards, the fabric parting easily, revealing more of the white basque beneath, the taut skin of her pregnant belly. Kacey stood frozen, trembling, as he shredded the symbol of her betrayal, paid for by the cuckold. Scraps of ivory lace and silk fluttered to the plush carpet like fallen petals. Soon, she stood before him clad only in the white lace basque straining over her bump, the torn stockings clipped to its straps, her sparkling Louboutins, and the diamonds Tony had given her. The wedding gown lay in a ruined heap at her feet.
"Step out," Tony commanded, his voice devoid of warmth. Kacey obeyed, kicking the tangled fabric aside with a pointed toe. She stood exposed, vulnerable, radiating a desperate hunger. Tony’s gaze raked over her, lingering on the dark triangle barely concealed by the basque’s lower edge, on the taut curve of her belly, on the hardened nipples pressing against the sheer lace cups. "Turn around."