Henry grabs my arm and drags me toward the bed.

I grunt. “What are you⁠—”

He sits down and yanks me down on his lap, facing away from him. He hooks my legs outside of his and the slit in my dress rides up so high, my lace undergarments peek out. I try to pull my arms free, but Henry has them trapped behind my back, between our bodies.

Shane watches us, torn between curiosity and fear.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I squirm against Henry, but he has a firm grip on me.

He nips at my neck. “You wanted to play, little wife. I’m here to play your games.”

“I didn’t want to play with you,” I snap.

“And that’s exactly why I’m here,” he growls. “You can play with me or not at all.”

I struggle against his hold, but he has my arms pinned tight.

Henry ignores my struggles as he brushes his nose up the column of my throat and pauses beside my ear. He trails his fingers up my leg and toys with the lace peeking out at my hip. “What color is this?”

“Bright red.”

He hums, and the vibration of it raises goosebumps on my skin. “What word do you say if you want me to stop?”

I shiver with anticipation. The ritual was one thing, but electing to let him touch me, maybe even fuck me, in front of a stranger fills me with a mixture of heat and anticipation. It’s less that I like that Shane is watching and more the possessive way Henry is touching me. Like he’s cursed by his desire.

“What do you say, Harlow?” he repeats.

This is the distraction I really needed. I’ve been so tense all day. If this game makes him want me more, that can only help this deviation from my original mission.

“Stars,” I say.

He nips at my earlobe. “Good girl.” His thumb gently strokes my inner thigh. “Do you have anything to say, lovely?”

I feel a mixture of shame and lust. I love and loathe that he’s making me admit that I want this. “No.”

Henry slides his hand up the slit of my dress, throws it open, and presses his legs out, wrenching mine even wider.

“Is this what you were hoping to see, Shane? These lace underwear I picked out for her?” Henry asks.

Shane looks torn—unsure if he should be honest and agree or deny it. He nods slowly.

Henry hums, looking down between my legs and petting me through the lace. He clicks his tongue. “Naughty wife. So wet already just from giving Shane a glimpse.”

The low rumble of his voice, laced with interest and disapproval, is only making me wetter.

Shane’s eyes light up. He’s an idiot. I can tell he’s not nearly as drunk anymore, but he seems to actually believe that Henry is playing some game. Shane has no sense of danger. It’s a wonder he’s made it this long living in Lunameade.

Henry teases me with a few soft strokes. “What do you think, Harlow? Do you want him to watch? Should we offer him something since he gave us such good information?”

He doesn’t wait for a response. A loud rip rends the air as Henry tears the delicate lace.

Shane licks his lips as he looks on.

I’m humiliated and annoyed at how turned on I am by the lack of control. I like to be in charge. I don’t know why I’m enjoying letting him grope me in front of a stranger.

Henry drags a hand up my inner thigh. I crane my neck to meet his deep blue eyes and force every bit of frustration into the words when I say, “I hate you.”

Henry shoves the torn panties in my mouth to shut me up. He gives me a light slap on my pussy and chuckles at my muffled yelp. Then, he smiles conspiratorially at Shane. “That’s much better. She does get mouthy sometimes, and not in the fun way.”

I hate that I like his deranged possessiveness. I don’t want to belong to anyone, and I know this isn’t true jealousy, but something about the low, feral tone of Henry’s voice and the way he seems like he might actually hurt this man for even trying to sleep with me is really turning me on.

Henry guides my hand down between my legs and murmurs into my ear, “Feel how wet you are for me? Your loathing would be more believable if you weren’t dripping.”

He squeezes two of my fingers together and pushes them inside me.

I groan.

Henry holds my wrist and makes me fuck myself with my fingers as Shane looks on. “Tell me, Shane. What were you planning to do to her before you knew she was happily married?” he asks.

“Nothing. I⁠—”

“Come on, now. I really loathe being lied to. Go on and be honest.”

Shane looks at me as if I have the answers, but I’m too focused on the building pressure in my body and the way Henry is forcing me to finger-fuck myself faster. He controls my movements entirely. I’m a puppet in his hands.

He brings his other hand up, slides the dress strap off my left shoulder, and pulls down the lace bustier beneath it, baring my breast. He cups it in his palm, kneading it and rolling my nipple between his fingers. His other hand is unrelenting, pumping my slick fingers in and out of my pussy as his thumb brushes over my clit.

I drop my head back onto his shoulder and notice his aura. It’s a deep plum color and tendrils of it curl out around me, sweeping up and down my body like they’re petting me—up my inner thighs, over my arms and breasts, and down my stomach. I can’t feel them, but seeing the possessiveness in his aura sends a rush of wet heat between my thighs.

The panties barely muffle my next moan. The tension is getting more intense. Henry’s enjoying keeping me right on the edge. It’s frustrating that he’s so good at this—that he’s so quickly come to understand the rhythm of me that he can bring my pleasure up slowly and suspend me right where he wants. If I couldn’t see his aura, I might believe his Divine blessing was from Kennymyra.

He pinches my clit, and I cry out.

“You see, Shane, we’re newlyweds,” Henry says. “And my wife really likes attention. That’s why she wears such scandalous dresses. But I think she’s most beautiful when she’s like this, don’t you agree?”

Alarm creeps over Shane’s face. I think he’s finally starting to realize that I’m not the only one who’s fucked.

“Say my wife is beautiful, Shane,” Henry snaps.

I pant around the panties stuffed in my mouth. I’m so wet, and the way he’s humiliating Shane now is making me hot all over.

“She’s beautiful,” Shane stammers. “Her eyes are really stunning.”

Henry moves my hand faster. My climax is just a breath away.

“Her eyes?” Henry scoffs. “I’ve shown you all of this, and you’re talking about her eyes.”

Shane swallows hard. It should not be this hot to watch Henry humiliate this man who thought he was going to fuck me however he wanted, but I’m insanely aroused. Or maybe just insane. Maybe this is my madness.

“Her breasts are perfect. Perky and just the right size,” Shane says. “They were the first thing I noticed since she was showing them off so much.”

“And?” Henry prods. “What about this beautiful bare pussy? I wasn’t expecting it on our wedding night, but she wanted me to have a perfect view of what’s mine.”

If my underwear weren’t jammed in my mouth, I would tell him I underwent a treatment years ago from a healer who specialized in removing body hair. It had nothing to do with him or my wedding, and everything to do with keeping male partners from getting lost.

He pumps my fingers faster still, and I gasp.

“She’s very tight, you know. Isn’t that right, lovely?” He nuzzles my neck. “Didn’t I have to stretch you out and go nice and deep on our wedding night?”

I moan and squirm against him. I’m so tense from the day, and I need this release. As I shift, I feel Henry’s hard cock pressed against my backside.

I freeze. Is he actually going to fuck me right here in front of Shane—not for some ceremony, but because he wants to?

I didn’t think we would have sex again after our wedding night. Spite is usually the only motivation I require. But all the stress of the wedding and the Breeder and the fear that Aidia might be hurt is exhausting. If he wanted to right now, I would let him. Just thinking about him stretching me wide has me clenching around my fingers.