Oh Ayden was fucked. It was his wedding day, to a “bimbo rich blond” in his words that he didn’t wanna marry. Despite his displeasure about the situation he put on his white suit and tie and faked a smile, for the agreement made and for his kingdom. That was until you came in looking stunning in your bridesmaid dress. His mind wandering dangerously to those royal ball nights where he’d snuck off to find you, away from his bride to ravish in you like no tomorrow in the bathroom of whatever ball you two found each other at. He licked his lips, wanting to have you like those times, a hand running in his blond hair as his blue eyes lingered on your glistening skin.

You were a widow, a queen of your empire and a total package of a woman. Rumors have that you’d killed your late husband, for power and control. Being married was not on your radar. So he played the role as your piece, beckoning your way whenever you called upon him.

His mind snapped out of his throughts as the classical music dropped to a more upbeat and…. Sensual scene. He stiffened in his chair as his wife and her bridesmaids came out putting on a performance for the men, this was mostly for the wife to show off to the husband. But he’d be damn. Among the women were you, wearing something so scandalous the guests were drooling and his eyes were shifted to you, and not his wife.

“Oh fuck me-“ He murmured in defeated under his breath watching you like a man in heat, his legs spreading straining against his dress pants.