NO STRINGS, NO SINS

Chapter 4

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains of the east wing suite, casting a golden glow over the rumpled king-sized bed where Liam and I lay tangled in a mess of silk sheets. His muscular arm was draped possessively over my waist, his warm breath tickling the nape of my neck. Even in sleep, his c**k pressed against the curve of my ass, a persistent reminder of the night’s insatiable hunger.

My body ached in the best way, muscles sore from being bent and twisted in positions that pushed me to my limits, my inner thighs sticky with the remnants of our passion. I closed my eyes, letting the memories flood back; him bending me over the balcony railing under the cover of the midnight, the cool ocean breeze whipping my hair as he pounded into me. His hips had snapped with brutal precision, each thrust driving his thick shaft deep into my clenching p***y, his heavy balls slapping rhythmically against my swollen c**t until the pressure built to an explosive peak.

I’d screamed into the void, my voice lost to the crashing waves below, as I squirted in hot, uncontrollable arcs, soaking the tiled floor and his thighs. He’d growled my name like a prayer, filling me with his c*m until it dripped down my legs, marking me as his.

I slipped free from his embrace carefully, not wanting to wake him yet. My feet hit the cool marble floor, sending a shiver up my spine that contrasted deliciously with the lingering heat between my legs. Padding to the en-suite bathroom, I turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the air like a sensual fog. The water cascaded over my sensitive skin, hot streams tracing paths over the love bites he’d left as possessive brands, dark purple blooms on my neck, breasts, and inner thighs. I ran my fingers over them, pressing just enough to reignite the spark of pain-pleasure.

My n*****s hardened under the spray, and I couldn't resist sliding a hand lower, parting my slick folds to tease my still-tender c**t. The memory of Liam's tongue there made me gasp, how he'd lapped at me greedily after our balcony f**k, his fingers buried deep as he coaxed another orgasm from my exhausted body. But I stopped myself, rinsing off quickly. Today was wedding prep day, and I needed to ground myself before facing the chaos downstairs.

Wrapping myself in a plush towel, I slipped into a light sundress that hugged my curves just enough to feel sexy without trying too hard. The villa buzzed with activity as I descended the grand staircase, bridesmaids flitting about like colorful birds arranging bouquets of exotic flowers that filled the air with a heady floral scent.

Laughter echoed off the high ceilings, light and carefree, a stark contrast to the storm brewing beside me. I grabbed a mug of coffee from the sideboard, the bitter brew grounding me as it burned its way down my throat. Jordan and Ned, the groomsmen, were chatting animatedly near the French doors, their easy banter a welcome distraction. Jordan caught my eye and winked, his playful gaze lingering a beat too long on the way my dress clung to my hips. He was harmless, mostly tall and charming, with a dimpled smile that could disarm anyone, but in this tangled web of exes and secrets, even innocent flirtation felt loaded.

Then she appeared, gliding into the room like a panther on the prowl. Sabrina. Her raven hair cascaded in glossy waves down her back, framing a face that could launch a thousand scandals, sharp cheekbones, full red lips curved in a predatory smile that promised trouble. Her dress was a second skin, crimson silk clinging to every voluptuous curve; full breast straining against the low neckline, n*****s faintly visible through the thin fabric, hips swaying with a calculated allure that turned heads. Diamond earrings dangled from her lobes, catching the sunlight and screaming old money, the kind that bought influence and buried secrets.

“Liam, darling,” she purred, her voice velvet over steel, ignoring me entirely as she zeroed in on him. He was mid-conversation with Jordan, but he froze, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. Sabrina leaned in, kissing his cheek with a lingering press that made my blood boil. Her hand trailed down his chest, fingers splaying possessively over the crisp white shirt that hid the scratches I’d left on his skin last night. “I missed you at the gala last month. Your harem felt so empty without the king.”

Harem. The word landed like a slap, echoing in my mind. Images flashed unbidden. Liam is surrounded by adoring women, Sabrina at the center, her laughter mocking me. He stepped back, his expression a mask of controlled irritation. “Sabrina. What are you doing here?”

“Invited, of course.” Her emerald eyes finally flicked at me, assessing me from head to toe with a dismissive curl of her lip, as if I were a temporary inconvenience, “Shannon insisted. Old friends and all.”

Across the room, Shannon beamed, her bridesmaid's sash fluttering as she arranged more flowers. But her eyes held a glint I'd never seen before, cold, calculating, like shards of ice. “Thought it’d spice things up!” she called out, her voice too bright, too forced.

My stomach twisted into knots. Sabrina’s scent, jasmine laced with raw ambition, cloyed the air, making it hard to breathe. She was Liam’s ex, the kind who collected lovers like precious jewels, discarding them when they lost their shine. And now, allied with Shannon? Whispers from last night echoed in my head; Shannon’s festering resentment over my history with Alex, how I'd had him first, the one man she'd craved beyond reason.

It had curdled their friendship into something toxic, and now they were plotting. Sabrina with her claws in Liam’s past, Shannon pulling strings from the shadows. I forced a smile while sipping my coffee to hide the tremor in my hands. This wedding was turning into a battlefield, and I was right in the crossfire.