Lorraine's body burned beneath Leroy's scorching embrace, his silken hair grazing her neck as his lips claimed her breasts. His tongue danced over her nipples, coaxing them into taut, aching peaks, each languid swirl sending bolts of pleasure to her core.
Their clothes lay in a tangled heap on the floor, shed in the fever of their desire. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, fingers knotted in his hair, her back arching to meet his rhythm, every touch igniting a primal fire that threatened to consume her. Her skin flushed, alive with a hunger she'd suppressed for a decade.
He rose above her, his palm gently pressing atop her head, eyes meeting hers, anchoring her to the moment. The searing heat of his arousal grazed her womanhood, skin against skin, a raw connection that unleashed a torrent of ecstasy.
Her hips lifted, craving union, as his lips crashed onto hers, fierce and ravenous, stealing her breath. His thick shaft glided against her sensitive folds, each deliberate stroke sparking tremors that pulsed through her abdomen, pooling low in a molten ache. Her core throbbed, desperate for him to fill her, to shatter the barriers of their unconsummated marriage.
In her mind, she pleaded, I want you. I need you inside me. Vaeloria's rigid codes, binding noblewomen to chastity and submission, dissolved in her longing. She yearned to claim this intimacy, to defy the chains that shackled her heart.
But the fire vanished to her dread with his sigh. Out of nowhere, Leroy pulled back, rolling to his side, his back a cold, unyielding wall. Her hand darted out, clutching his arm to tether him to her, but he slipped free, silent and distant.
Her heart fractured, a sharp, searing pain that stole her breath. Had her boldness, unthinkable for a Vaelorian lady, repulsed him? Had her moan shattered his desire?
Or… was she, as he'd branded her, merely a mistake?
Her thoughts screamed, What did I do wrong? Why do you wound me?
Naked, her body still aflame with unspent passion, her heart shattered, she stared at his unmoving form, willing him to turn, to explain. He owed her that after ten years of silence. But his breathing softened, slow and even, a cruel mockery of her torment. He'd fallen asleep, leaving her stranded in a sea of need, her core pulsing with a hunger that clawed at her sanity.
Lorraine curled into herself, arms wrapping her knees, trembling with rejection's sting. Tears welled, hot and relentless, spilling down her cheeks. Why, Leroy? Why do you break me?
Her unrequited love of thirteen years, poured into a man who saw her as useless, left her soul bleeding.
In Vaeloria, noblemen flaunted mistresses, their courtesans celebrated in whispered tales, while noblewomen were bound to loyalty, their desires caged by honor. Leroy could parade Zara without shame, yet Lorraine's yearning branded her wanton. The injustice seared her, a wound as raw as her unfulfilled desire.
She slipped into her nightgown, tears falling, the sticky warmth between her thighs a cruel echo of his touch. Her hands shook as she wiped her face. No more tears. Crying had never saved her, not since her mother's death.
Only action dulled the pain.
She seized the wine jar and poured it into the goblet by the side. But then she picked up the jar, bypassing the goblet. The memory of his shaft, the ache he'd left, demanded more. This was an entire-jar night.
She drifted to the window, pulling the curtains wide. Cool night air caressed her fevered skin, her hip-length hair dancing in the breeze. Perched on the sill, she let her legs dangle outside, high above the ground in their hilltop manor. The city sprawled below, its lights a distant promise. Her gaze locked on the Redlight District, its glow pulsing like a heartbeat—her empire, her secret haven where she wielded power unseen.
A defiant smirk curved her lips. Who needs you, Leroy?
She could summon a gigolo, skilled and eager, who'd sate her without breaking her heart. Noblemen like Leroy reveled in mistresses and courtesans, their indiscretions lauded, while women faced scorn for a single step astray.
Why should she remain loyal to a husband who spurned her? Her thoughts raced. I could proclaim your failure, parade a lover, let the court whisper. A male mistress—what was the word? Paramour? Gigolo? Lover?
Her wine-fogged mind didn't care.
She drank deeply, fantasies unfurling like wildfire. She pictured binding Leroy, his masked face twisting as she reveled with another, his pride shattered. What would you feel then? A silent giggle bubbled in her chest, bold and reckless. Will you care then?
With half the jar gone, another vision bloomed: a harem of lovers in a faraway land, her body sated, her heart free from Leroy's shadow. I'd never think of you again.
The wine dulled her burning desire, cooling her fevered skin. She drained the jar, buzzing and drowsy, setting it on the sill.
The city's lights blurred as she vowed, Tomorrow, I'll find a lover. I'll not stay a virgin forever. Her thoughts hardened. I'll leave you, Leroy. I'll flee, surrounded by lovers, drowning in pleasure. You'll be nothing to me.
The vow tore through her, a decade's love shattering in her mind's silent scream. Pain surged, raw and unyielding, her heart's final stand against his neglect. Tears streamed anew, but her resolve held, fierce and unbroken.
Drunk on defiance, she smiled through her pain, the night air kissing her flushed cheeks. Time for bed.
As Lorraine moved to jump from the windowsill, her hand knocked the wine jar. It wobbled, teetering on the edge. She lunged to grab it, scared its crash would wake her cruel husband. Her wine-soaked mind muddled her senses. She thought she was leaping into her room, forgetting that her legs dangled outside the window.
Her body tipped forward… into empty air.
Her foggy brain jolted awake, grasping the truth. She was falling.
The world went silent. Fear choked her throat, her voice locked tight, like the mute girl she'd once been. Her thoughts screamed, I don't want to die! Not like this!
Panic surged. Her sluggish mind spurred her hand to flail. She reached for anything, a curtain, a ledge, something to halt her plunge. Something to save her from death, or worse, a broken body, trapped forever.
Her heart thumped loudly in her ears, her hands turning ice-cold. In that terrifying moment, as she faced death, her mind flashed to a boy she met when she was thirteen…
Under the moonlight… sitting under the vyrnshade shrub…
Leroy.
Her first love, now lost to her.
Her thoughts cried out… Will I die like this, my heart heavy with regret?
All the love she'd held, unspoken, weighed her down, a silent ache as she plummeted.