The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

Shivers rippled across Cathleen’s skin, each wave a sharp reminder of her body’s betrayal. She curled tighter under the sheets, willing warmth into her limbs, but the fever that had taken hold refused to relent. Eyes heavy with unshed sleep, she lay in the dark, cocooned within the four walls that seemed to press closer with every strained breath.

The fucking night was alive with the goddamn sounds of betrayal. Olivia’s piercing screams echoed through the fucking silence, punctuated by the relentless thud of the headboard slamming against the wall. Each fucking beat was a reminder of Xavier’s frenzied passion, a symphony of flesh that spat in the face of Cathleen’s lonely solitude.

Xavier’s normally aloof demeanor shattered as primal urges consumed him. The scent of Cathleen’s skin haunted him, lingering on his fingertips like a ghostly reminder of what he couldn’t have. Despite the heat radiating from his current lover, her defiance and sharp tongue still cut through his defenses and settled deep in his mind. With each thrust into Olivia, it was Cathleen’s name that echoed in his ears, a relentless and maddening litany that fueled his desire and frustration. He was helpless against the overwhelming pull towards her, a force that threatened to consume him completely.

Disgust mingled with desire, his body betraying him with its yearning for the wife he vowed never to love. Cathleen-the enigma wrapped in silk and steel, the woman whose very existence challenged his resolve.

Cathleen’s hasty escape from the noisy mess didn’t last long. The moment her feet hit the cold floor, everything went topsy-turvy. Her usually strong legs, now wobbly from a high fever, gave out on her; she tripped and landed awkwardly like a clumsy baby deer trying to walk for the first time. Gravity took its toll, bringing her down with a loud thud, her body folding under its weight. She ended up sprawled there, feeling defenseless and exposed, while chaos swirled around her like a wild storm.

“Aw, crap,” she muttered, her face flushed with fever and determination. Survival was all she knew, but as she clumsily clawed at the carpet, her fingers fumbling, darkness crept into her sight. Helpless, she felt herself being pulled under by the deep blackness, succumbing to the unconsciousness that enveloped her.

Xavier drove into Olivia with primal intensity, his body a coiled spring, releasing with each powerful thrust. The room echoed with the symphony of their tangled limbs, a raw and desperate dance of flesh seeking solace in the heat of the moment. Beads of sweat glistened on their skin even though the weather was cold outside, mingling with the scent of desire that hung heavy in the air.

As he explored Olivia’s pussy, Xavier’s mind became a battleground of conflicting emotions. Cathleen’s image ghosted through his thoughts like an uninvited guest, her piercing gaze and enigmatic smile haunting him even in this intimate act. Yet he pushed against these memories, burying them beneath the urgent lust that pulsed between him and Olivia.

Their bodies moved in a frenzied rhythm, a cacophony of need and longing driving them towards a precipice of release. Each touch and each gasp was a declaration of defiance against the emptiness that lurked beyond their entwined forms. In that moment, Xavier sought refuge in Olivia’s embrace, using her as a temporary anchor to tether himself from the storm raging within him.

The room bore witness to their shared desperation, with the walls echoing back their muffled groans and moans and whispered promises. For Xavier, this union was not just physical; it was a fleeting escape from the icy confines of his marriage bed, a brief respite from the shadows that loomed over his heart. And as they moved together in that tangled embrace, he found himself lost in the primal chaos of passion-a temporary reprieve from the complexities that awaited him once their bodies finally stilled.

“Face down,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble of desire. Without hesitation, Olivia shifted, offering herself to him in a submissive stance. Xavier’s palm landed firmly on her ass, the resounding smack reverberating through the room-a potent and gratifying sound. His strong grip on her hips guided her back towards him, aligning himself with her eager pussy for another deep and intense connection.

He entered her forcefully, his body slamming into hers with a primal need. Olivia’s screams pierced the air-no longer sweet moans but raw, carnal cries. Each one was a declaration, a challenge thrown at the invisible specter of Cathleen. In Olivia’s heated mind, every scream was a message: He is mine.

But unbeknownst to either of them, Cathleen lay motionless, a mere shadow on the floor, silent and unseen. Her unconscious form belied the strength she carried in the courtroom-the same strength that had seen her undefeated. There was no sharp tongue to cut through the betrayal, no calculating mind to plot her next move. Just silence and stillness, while the man she could not claim-and yet could not surrender-surrendered himself to another.

Cathleen’s still form lay sprawled on the polished hardwood, a bead of sweat tracing the curve of her temple. In another room, the sound of his hand slapping Olivia’s ass punctuated the silence, the rhythm slowing as Xavier’s thoughts tangled. The hollow clatter of silverware abandoned on porcelain haunted him; Cathleen’s seat at the dinner table remained cold and empty.

“Xavier,” Olivia’s voice, once laced with pleasure, now edged with panic, “don’t stop.”

But his mind was elsewhere, drifting to the sharp edges of Cathleen’s tongue and her fierce arguments that sparked like flint. The chill of her indifference was its own brand of fire, and he realized he craved its burn. His movements became half-hearted, the force behind each thrust dissipating like smoke.

“Please,” she whispered, a silent plea into the linen sheets, her voice a shadow of its former triumph. She needed him to continue, to claim her in ways that would reach Cathleen’s ears and cement her place in Xavier’s bed. But Olivia could not scream and dared not climax too loudly-for fear of rousing the unconscious rival from her unnatural sleep.

Xavier’s brow furrowed, a war between desire and distraction playing out across his chiseled features. He grappled with the paradox of his marriage-a union steeped in resentment yet unwillingly tethered by an inexplicable pull towards the woman who vowed to stand against him, not to love him. He didn’t understand why everyone wanted him, but Cathleen didn’t. Not even their shared moments back in the Knight family house moved her, or how he touched her in the pretense of bathing her moved her. Why was she so stubborn? He thought as he lounged a savage thrust into Olivia.

“Xavier!” Olivia’s urgency cut through the thickening air, her hands clawing at his back. But her touch felt like thorns-reminders of a betrayal that simmered beneath the surface.Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of missing love, like a nagging secret he couldn’t quite uncover. The image of Cathleen, defenseless and exposed, chipped away at his tough exterior. The quiet in the house spoke volumes, emphasizing the absence of comfort that should have been there.

Xavier stood behind Olivia’s ass, still balls-deep in her, yet caught in the shadows of betrayal and tangled family ties, feeling like he was on the edge of a cliff, unsure if his marriage could weather the storm. The question lingered in his mind: Could things ever work out between him and his wife? Doubts crept in, battling with the guilt that weighed heavy on him; he knew he had caused Cathleen more pain than she deserved.