Chapter 1: Bride and the Butler
~Gwendolyn’s POV~
My cherry-red lips wrapped around the end of the cigarette, taking a deep inhale of the addicting nicotine before exhaling the smoke with a sad sigh as I glanced at the lush garden of the estate, full of vibrant rose bushes, elegant white sculptures and a fountain with crystal clear water. Today was supposed to be the most beautiful moment of my life. The sound of the party music from inside made me grimace, knowing how happy everyone was but me. Here I was, all dolled up with the most expensive bride dress full of crystals, silk, and lace — the woman of the day, and I felt like a dark cloud of a storm danced above my head.
Warren, my now official husband, was probably inside, playing the perfect groom, kissing everyone in the ass and sipping on champagne. I rolled my eyes. God, how I hated champagne. I would throw that expensive drink out the window any day for a glass of whiskey on the rocks, but I knew Warren would be delighted with me basking in a man’s drink. Much like he wouldn’t be in joy if he saw me nursing from this cancer stick. That’s why I was on the back patio of the estate, away from anyone’s sight, trying to collect my thoughts.
Five years ago, what I thought would be the best decision of my life turned out to be a gilded cage, and I was the desperate bird trying to sing my way out. I used to love Warren. Five years ago, when I had met him, he was everything I had dreamt of. Adventurous, funny, charismatic, and intelligent. Now? Well, he was a smart man. It takes brains to run down a big enterprise, but when it came to emotional intelligence, it turns out he had no clue. We used to go out, to have fun and enjoy our romance. Now, he was constantly buried in work, and when the chance for fun appeared, he dismissed it.
Not to mention, in the last year, he became controlling. The kind of control with a sweet smile that makes me rip my chocolate brown hair out from the perfect bun that my mother-in-law suggested I wear for her baby boy’s special day. They say as time flies by; you get to see the red flag in people. Well, Warren and his family were walking red flags. It turns out Warren is a mama’s boy who cannot stand to see me in jeans anymore, doesn’t let me indulge in fast food, and demands in a sugary way for me to be more ladylike. His mother wasn’t any better, either. She was more controlling than Warren, always criticizing my cooking and the way I dressed and constantly burying her nose in my and Warren’s relationship.
What used to be a romance story with a bright future now felt like a curse bestowed upon my head, and I couldn’t find the courage to put an end to it.
“Mrs. Campbell?” A male voice tugged me away from my bitter thoughts, and when I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Eric, Warren’s family butler.
He was in his late thirties and everything Warren wasn’t. Eric was tall, close to 6′3, with a lean build, only more accentuated by the butler suit. Black tailcoat, slacks, shiny Oxfords, pristine white shirt with a black bowtie. He was always elegant, freshly shaved, and with his dirty blonde hair slicked back. A constant air of elegant masculinity surrounded him, and his warm brown eyes always made me melt inside. Yes, I found the butler of my husband’s family attractive, but if you were in my shoes, you would, too.
“Yeah?” I whispered and noticed how his eyes seized the cigarette between my perfectly manicured fingers.
“In 30 minutes, the wedding cake will be presented, and your presence is mandatory,” he informed me, always sporting that professional voice full of politeness.
“Whatever... I will be there.” I muttered, turning my attention back to the garden, tempted to just jump off the balcony and break my neck, put an end to this lavish misery.
“He doesn’t deserve you, Gwen.” His polite tone dropped away, replaced by a serious and rough tone that made the baby hairs on the nape of my neck stand on ends. My thighs clenched together as Eric used that sultry, dark tone he only used behind closed doors when none was around us — when he was balls deep into my pussy.
Yes, I wasn’t only lusting after the butler of my husband’s family. I was fucking him, or rather, he was fucking me. Body, mind, and close enough... soul, too.
It all happened one day, and what was supposed to be only a minor scratch to my itching libido became an addiction.
“You know it’s not that easy,” I spoke, taking another deep drag of my cigarette.
A scoff came from Eric, and my ears perked up as I heard his footsteps until he was behind me.
“Ditch the bastard and come with me. I cannot stand these pompous snobs anymore.” He whispered, his voice so small as if the wind would carry these crude words to Warren and his bullshit of a family.
“Then why don’t you resign?” I asked him in an indifferent voice.
“I need more time.” He rasped and rested his hands on my hips, making me tense.
“Eric...”
“Seeing you at the altar with that cunt of a man made me want to stab him with a cross in one of his eyes.” He hissed and gripped my hips harder, forcing a little whine from my scarlet lips.
Eric took the cigarette from my fingers, took the last drag, and stomped it into the ashtray on the railing of the balcony. My eyes closed as he started to trail butterfly kisses on the nape of my neck and bare shoulders, dragging his tongue over every little inch of my exposed skin, almost like marking me—a silent way of searing his territory.
“You look absolutely exquisite. Gorgeous in this dress...” He whispered in my ear, his tongue flickering the diamond earrings I wore. Hearing such praises made my heart flutter. Warren was so self-absorbed by the entire wedding that he didn’t even compliment me.
His hands fiddled with the tulle of my bride dress, moving the back up until the white garter belt with cute bows around my right thigh was exposed. His silk-white-gloved hands brushed over the little secret, and I felt him smirk against my shoulder.
“Is this little gift for me, darling?” He cooed smugly, tugging at the elastic of the delicate accessory before letting it snap back against my sunkissed skin. I jolted a little at the contact, making the man behind me chuckle.
“You’re shaking, my dear,” Eric stated the obvious, watching from behind me how I was gripping the railing of the balcony, my upper limbs quivering as his searing breath blew over my skin. His spicy-warm cologne invaded my senses, mixing with my Channel perfume. “Heh... Do I make you nervous?”
“Eric. Enough. S-Someone could walk in here and-” I didn’t get to finish my sentence.
“And see what a big cheating whore the bride is?” He inquired with lecherous sadism, his teeth clamping on my earlobe. I swallowed back a lewd moan, and shame washed over me like a cold shower as I found myself pressing my rear against his crotch. A guttural groan came from Eric, the vibrations of the erotic noise he made going straight between my legs, dampening my thong.
“Y-You’re crazy.” I shuttered, trying to suppress these carnal urges that had nipped at my mind for months. After each scornful round of filthy sex with him, I would tell myself it would be the last time, but deep down, I knew it wouldn’t. He had me trapped by his twisted cobwebs as if I were a helpless fly, and he was the big, bad spider, always eager to sink his fangs into my skin and inject his toxicity into my veins.
Eric chuckled against my ear before sucking leisurely on my abused earlobe.
“Maybe I am, sweetheart... Crazy as hell for you.” He cooed in a sickly sweet voice, his gloved hands moving higher up my leg, pushing aside the waterfall of white tulle and silk.
Goosebumps littered my skin as my backside was exposed, and the feel of his silk gloves brushing over my rear kept me on my toes more than the white bride heels. He toyed with the flimsy lace thong before his hand skimmed lower.
“S-Stop,” I whispered, and self-hate filled me at how pathetic I sounded. Weak for a man who wasn’t my husband, as if the golden band on my ring finger meant nothing.
“Do you want me to stop? You don’t sound too convincing, Mrs. Campbell.” He growled out my new surname, mocking me. The muscles of my legs stiffened as his long fingers skimmed over the front of my panties. “You keep saying no, no... but...” My breath hitched as he moved his hand into my panties, cupping my mound. “Your little pussy is saying otherwise.” He purred in my ear. He was a dirty temptation, all wrapped in a tailored suit, cooing to me like the devil to bite from the red apple. Again and again.
“Forget about your husband... especially when I am the one touching you.” He told me, starting to stroke my mound. The silk of his gloves only added to the stimulation, and I found myself circling my hips into his hand, letting him do things to me that only Warren should, but he could never get the reactions Eric pulled out of me.
“So soaking wet, and I barely did anything to you.” He murmured as he spread my labia with two fingers and used the one in the middle to stroke my slit. Soft moans resounded from my throat as I kept my lips firmly glued together. A lullaby of sadistic snickering came from deep within his chest.
“I bet Warren cannot fucking get you wet like this, huh? Let me guess,” He continued to talk depravities, sardonic words that made me the epitome of a blushing bride. “You think about me while he is fucking you, huh?”
Oh, God...
“Tell me, Gwen.” He urged, pressing one finger in, and I whined. “Are you thinking about me while he is inside you?”
“Y-Yes,” the unhinged truth came out. Eric was the only one able to unravel my true self. Toxic and selfish, just like him. I was a bad person—a cheating wife, drowning in an endless sea of frustrations.
“Filthy girl,” he snarled, adding a second finger and curling them just right. “But I got to give Warren some credit. Look how gorgeous you are for me, all dolled up from his money.”
I closed my eyes as another punch of humiliation hit me. Warren may not be the best man, but in the financial department, he always made sure I wasn’t lacking anything. And here I was, with another man. I was supposed to be all beautiful for my husband, not his butler.
The sound of the zipper being undone pulled me away from the tsunami of guilt and shame, and I jolted forward as the warmth of his dick hit my buttocks. Eric pulled me back, pinching my clit. I bit my tongue so hard; that I tasted the coppery essence of my blood.
“No running away now, little bride,” Eric spoke, pulling his fingers out and making quick work of my panties, pushing them aside to get access to the prize. “You’re gonna take it like a good bride from the man you truly desire.”
My hands gripped the railing harder, so hard that my knuckles turned white, as he rubbed the tip of his cock between my slick folds, mixing his pre-cum with the pure evidence of my sexual attraction for him. My mouth kept telling lies, but my body spoke the unabashed truth. The wet noises his cock made as he dragged it up and down turned my ears red, the blush dripping down my cheeks and neck, turning me into the forbidden apple I should be refrained from biting, yet here I was... munching on the juicy sin like a whore that would burn forever into hell.
God, please forgive me, for I broke down my vows to my husband.
I braced myself as the red mushroom head pressed in, breaching my entrance and letting the rest of the length in. My eyes fluttered close as every inch stretched my walls. Eric hissed from behind me, burying his face into the crock of my neck as he pushed forward until our hips were pressed together.
“Ahhh... There you go,” He hummed in satisfaction, taking a firm hold of my hips. “Tight as ever.”
Tingles erupted all over my body, from the top of my head all the way down to my toes.
“Your pussy hugs my cock so nicely,” Eric grunted, lazily rotating his hips in my backside. His front was pressed to my back, forcing me to bend over a little. “Seems like she knows whose cock makes her mewl, huh?” The question came out condescending, and my eyes opened wide when a silk-covered hand wrapped around my throat.
Soft moans resounded from me as he started to thrust, in and out in that perfect rhythm that would make me come undone in a few moments. Truth be told, I have been restless in the last week. With the wedding preparation and all, me and Eric didn’t have opportunities to screw around like rabbits.
“Fuck, darling...” His hand squeezed my neck, anchoring me to hit deeper, the head of his dick kissing all the right spots that had my tongue lolling out. His lips ghosted over the nape of my neck, littering tender kisses before his teeth clamped down on my flesh. Tears sprung from the corner of my eyes, and I bit my knuckle to stop myself from crying too loud.
“Bet your dear husband cannot batter your cunt like I do,” He growled, knocking his hips harder into mine, slick arousal coating his cock, and with every push of his dick into me, the shlick-shlick wet noises filled my ears. “Making you mewl like a bitch in heat.”
“P-Please... I-I... W-We can get caught,” I whined, begging him to stop, but at the same time praying for the delicious sensation in my tummy to explode.
“Five more minutes,” Eric panted out, his movements getting sloppier, and the pressure in my lower abdomen grew. Close... so close. “Gonna cum... and from how hard your pussy is squeezing me... so are you.” His voice grew huskier, his warm tongue leaving wet trails of passion over the length of my neck.
“Where should I cum, huh?” He asked me, one of his hands worming between my legs, and his silk-covered fingers flickered my clit, having my knees knocked together from the sizzling sensation.
“E-Eric...”
“Should I finish in, darling, hmm?” He suggested, and my cunt flexed involuntarily around his shaft, eager to milk him for his potency. “Give your husband a special wedding gift?”
His tone dropped into a darker note, coated with male dominance. “It wouldn’t be the first time he eats my cum from your pussy.”
That did it. The combination of the satirical words that choked me into a rope of humiliation and the balls-deep thrust pushed me over the brink of ecstasy. After me, he came too, rutting into me with desperation as warmth kissed my insides.
“That’s it, my darling... Milk my fucking cock. It’s yours.” Eric breathed out, sounding anguished but at the same time so content. I sighed as his cock slowly slipped out, and before his semen could drip out, he adjusted my panties back. Shivers ran down my back at the sticky sensation of his cum gathering in the crotch of my undergarments, making the white panties stick to my folds like a second skin.
“There you go, sweetheart,” Eric purred, kissing behind my ear. “All nice, full, and warm of me.”
I took a steady breath as he adjusted himself, making sure there was no evidence of your dirty quickie.
“This had to be the last time,” I spoke, and Eric chuckled, brushing his dirty hair back and flashing me a taunting smirk.
“Isn’t that what you said last time?”
“Fuck you,” I muttered, glaring at the blonde, whose smirk widened more.
“I just did that,” His cheeky reply had my hands balling into fists, and before I could snark back at him, he turned around, walking away all nonchalantly.
“Come on. It’s time for the cake, Mrs. Campbell,” he called for me to follow, not even glancing at me.
I huffed and followed, trying to keep a calm composure, especially as his cum soaked my pussy. I hated him as much as I desired him because he was right.
It won’t be the last time.
🔥 Naughty indeed