The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

Cathleen’s heels clacked a sharp beat as she burst into the restroom, her breath hitching in her chest. The air was sterile, untouched by life. Stall doors stood open under harsh fluorescent lights, revealing emptiness and silence. No rustle of clothing, no sign of occupancy. Alone.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, matching the chaos inside her. Why here? Why now? Unanswered questions pounded in her head as her hand, almost moving on its own, slipped beneath her dress for release against the heat that was burning her kitty and her skin.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

The cold tile met her back as she stumbled into the nearest stall, the lock clicking sharply in the silence. This porcelain refuge offered no solace; the walls seemed to press closer, whispering about vulnerability.

Perched on the toilet seat, its chill contrasting with the heat between her thighs, a silent plea guided her fingers past dampened fabric into hidden desires born from confusion and longing.

“Pull yourself together, Cathleen,” she muttered sternly to herself, the sound foreign in the confined space. It was a command she’d confidently given in courtrooms, but now it faltered, revealing uncertainty.

The restroom-a place of privacy and purity-now felt tainted by an unseen menace that led her to this intimate act of self-soothing. Even amidst the pleasure building within her, an underlying sense of danger lurked beyond the locked door.

Cathleen raised her leg and started to trust violently against her pussy. She was clueless about what was happening to her, but one thing she knew was that she needed to reduce the burning desire that she had never felt in her life. This was the most shameless thing she had ever done in her life, and she wouldn’t have wished it even on her worst enemy.

The flimsy stall lock clicked, a feeble barrier shattered by Cathleen’s involuntary gasp, a solitary echo in the air thick with steam and jasmine. Suddenly, the door burst open, an unwelcome presence barging in uninvited, disrupting the tranquility of the moment.

“Cathleen,” the voice reached for her, familiar and edged with something that wasn’t quite concerned. It was Finn-his presence was as jarring as fingernails on chalk.

She froze, her breath hitching. For a split second, desire warred with decorum. She could ask him, tempt him… but blood ties to Xavier, fragile and twisted, held her back. He was her ex, yes, but now he’s also her husband’s nephew.

“Can’t I fucking have a moment?” She thought as she continued to stroke herself slowly.

“Cathleen, I know you are in here.” Finn’s voice insisted, ignorant or indifferent to the boundaries he trespassed.

“Can’t a woman have a moment?” She snapped, the words sharp needles aimed at deflating his advance.

Outside, another predator prowled-the one she’d sworn vows to. Xavier, a shadow under pulsing neon lights, listened. His ears were attuned not just to her voice but to the absence of it, seeking evidence that there was more to Finn and Cathleen.

“This is the ladies’ restroom. Just go away.” Cathleen clenched her jaw, determined. Her hand hesitated, a deliberate act of rebellion rather than longing. The gentle rustle of skin was a direct challenge to the dominance of those who believed they could control her satisfaction and her serenity.

Finn’s impatience hovered like a storm cloud; it had undone him before and unraveled the tapestry of their past. Love, once vibrant, is now tainted by betrayal. And Xavier, ever the cold strategist, was setting his trap, weaving suspicions into a noose meant for her neck.

“I saw how you’re sweating; something is wrong with you.”

Cathleen’s back stiffened against the cool tile wall, her eyes sharpening like daggers. “If you know something is wrong with me, why didn’t you call my husband? Why did you come here all by yourself? Are you trying to play hero?” Her voice was a venomous hiss, slicing through any pretense.

Outside, barely concealed by shadows, Xavier stood motionless, ice flooding his veins as realization dawned. She wasn’t seducing Finn. Panic clawed at him; she was in trouble.

Inside, Cathleen’s resolve crumbled just enough for vulnerability to seep through. “I would really appreciate it if you went and called your uncle for me.” It was almost a plea, yet still edged with steel.

“Xavier isn’t here; let me help you,” Finn offered, stepping closer, his words wrapped in sincerity but laced with urgency.

“Help?” Cathleen snapped, fire flaring in her eyes. “Do you know what help I need? Just fucking get my husband; is that too much to ask?” Her shout ricocheted off the walls, a raw echo of fear and frustration.

“God!” The word slipped from her lips, a whisper lost in the chaos of her mind. “Finn, I don’t feel so well.” Shaky legs betrayed her as she rose, fumbling to fix her dress, fingers trembling. She pushed open the stall door, attempting a step into reality.

However, reality buckled beneath her. Cathleen’s body gave way, grace was abandoned, and she fell hard to the floor.

“Cathleen, Fuck!” Finn’s scream pierced the sterile silence, his voice a mix of panic and despair. He was beside her in an instant, taking in her flushed face and her swollen, rosy lips-it was clear she was aroused yet utterly out of place.

“Cathleen, what did you take?” He demanded, kneeling, his hands hovering over her but not daring to touch her.

Outside, Xavier flinched. He wanted Cathleen to answer Finn’s urgent question, but there was no answer from Cathleen-a silence that screamed louder than any confession. His heart thundered a violent rhythm as he stepped into the room, the sight before him igniting a fury that bordered on primal.

With one swift motion, Xavier shoved Finn away, his hands closing around Cathleen with possessive force. He scooped her from the cold embrace of the floor, her body limp in his arms. Without a backward glance, he carried her away from the scene, away from prying eyes, away from Finn.

Xavier’s grip tightened as he settled Cathleen into the backseat of his sleek, black sedan. The leather creaked under her weight, a sound lost to the hum of the idling engine. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes that held a mischievous glint, as unpredictable as her nature.

“Why do you look so handsome today?” She murmured, her voice husky and laced with something he couldn’t quite discern. Her fingers, delicate yet assertive, traced the line of his jaw, leaving a trail that burned through his skin. With feline grace, she leaned forward and claimed his lips with a hunger that belied the frostiness of their usual exchanges.

“Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you, woman?” Xavier recoiled, his words slicing the charged air between them. There was a ferocity in his tone, mirroring the cold, ruthless edge he carried like armor. But Cathleen was undeterred, her response hanging unspoken in the tension that now thrummed like a live wire through the car’s cabin.

The scent of her perfume clawed at Xavier’s senses, a sweet poison he couldn’t escape. “You look eatable,” Cathleen whispered, her breath hot against his ear. It was a taunt wrapped in velvet, an invitation from the woman who had sworn to despise him until their twisted union crumbled into dust.

Xavier’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smirk that never quite reached his eyes. She hated him with every fiber of her being, yet here she was, weaving her seduction with the skill of a seasoned siren. He wanted to laugh, to scorn the absurdity of it all, but the sound choked in his throat, strangled by the storm of emotions she always managed to stir within him.

He pushed away from her, the space between them crackling with the electricity of their mutual loathing. “That’s it; I’m taking you home,” he declared, his voice harsh, as if he were sentencing her to confinement. His hand found the car door, slamming it shut with a finality that echoed the closing of a cell door.

The engine roared to life under his command, and a beast awakened, ready to flee the scene of their latest skirmish. As the car lunged forward, Xavier’s gaze locked with hers in the rearview mirror-a silent battle raging in the reflection. Every mile they covered was another line drawn in the sand of their love-hate battleground, and with each passing second, the war waged on, silent and relentless.

Xavier’s grip on the steering wheel could have turned coal into diamonds. Cathleen’s voice, sultry and unapologetic, cut through the hum of the engine-a blade sliding silkily across his resolve. “You better be fast because I want you to eat me.”

The words hung in the air, like a taunt that clawed at his self-control. He swallowed hard, the tightness in his throat a tangible reminder of the thin line he walked with her. His fingers constricted around the leather, turning the knuckles white, betraying the tempest within.

“Damn it, Cathleen,” he muttered under his breath as his other hand yanked at the silk noose of his tie, loosening its stranglehold. His breathing was shallow; the confined space of the car seemed to shrink, walls closing in, filled with the heat of her gaze upon him.

The city lights streaked by like fleeting memories, reflections of a life he had constructed meticulously, brick by brick, only to see it smeared by the chaotic hues of their relationship. He drove on, each turn making an effort to escape the snare she wove with her provocations.

The night whispered of violence, of past wounds reopening, and Xavier’s thoughts lingered on the precipice of giving in or holding back. The battle lines were drawn long ago, yet they danced this dance anew with every encounter-their love a twisted knot, their hate a familiar bedfellow.

He couldn’t love her; he wouldn’t allow himself that vulnerability. Yet in the hollows between heartbeats, he wondered if what bound them together was more than just disdain. The car sped forward, a vessel amidst the turmoil of their shared destruction. And still, the war raged silently on.