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SIERRA

“I look like a frosted cupcake,” I mutter, squinting at myself in the floor-length mirror.

“You look like a virgin sacrifice,” Tisha says from her perch on the chaise lounge. “And I mean that in the highest compliment.”

“It’s a little much, right?”

“You’re marrying a Bratva king, babe. There’s no such thing as too much.”

She’s right.

The dress is… everything. Fitted through the waist with soft silk that hugs every curve, a subtle slit up one thigh, delicate beading over the chest, and a sheer veil that trails behind me like a bridal fever dream.

It’s feminine. Regal.

And suddenly very real.

I’m getting married.

To Aleksander Maksimov.

The man who bought me. Broke me. Claimed me.

And built a world around me just to keep me safe inside it.

I reach for the dressing robe when I hear it.

The door opens.

Footsteps—heavy, slow, deliberate.

Tisha yelps, scrambling to stand. “Oh. Uh. Mr. Maksimov. Sir. This is… technically the no-peek zone—”

Then I see him.

Aleksander.

Standing there in a black coat, hands in his pockets, and eyes locked on me.

And he’s not breathing.

—-

ALEKSANDER

I was supposed to drop off a document.

Nothing more.

But then I heard her voice. And I looked through the doorway.

And I saw her.

In white.

Curves hugged by silk. Hair pinned back. Lips soft and parted. Thigh bare through a slit that should not be legal.

I step inside. Slowly.

Everyone else disappears.

I cross the room in silence.

She watches me, wide-eyed, hands hovering like she’s not sure whether to cover herself or stand taller.

“You like it?” she asks softly.

“I want to ruin it.”

—-

SIERRA

He’s behind me in a blink.

Big hands at my waist, mouth at my ear.

“I want to pull it up and fuck you in front of the mirror,” he murmurs, voice low and lethal. “Right now.”

My knees go weak.

“There’s someone waiting—”

“I don’t care.”

He spins me gently to face the mirror, presses his chest to my back, and slides one hand up the front of the gown—palming my breast through the delicate fabric while the other moves down.

“I’ll buy five more dresses if I have to,” he growls. “But I need to see your face when I come inside you wearing my ring.”

I gasp as he slips his fingers under the gown, brushing over my panties—silk, white, soaked.

“You wore white under white,” he mutters. “You trying to kill me?”

I grip the edge of the vanity as he pushes them aside and sinks two fingers inside me from behind.

“Hold still,” he says. “Watch yourself. Want you to see what I do to you.”

—-

ALEKSANDER

She trembles under my hand.

Tight. Wet. Mine.

Two fingers work inside her, slow and deliberate, curling just right. I press my palm against her lower belly and lean into her ear.

“Don’t look away.”

She shudders.

“Look at yourself,” I growl. “Watch what I do to you. I want you to see how fucking ruined you are.”

Her moans echo off the walls. Her eyes flutter as her legs start to shake.

“You see that flushed face? See your tits heaving? That’s what you look like every time you come for me.”

She whimpers. “Please—Aleks—make me—”

“Beg louder.”

“Please, Aleks—make me come—”

“That’s better.”

My thumb finds her clit. My free hand wraps around her throat—light pressure, just enough to hold her still.

“Come for me, bride. Soak these silk panties while you watch yourself fall apart.”

She shatters.

Hard.

Arched, pulsing around my fingers, her body gives out.

And I don’t stop.

—-

SIERRA

I’m still gasping—legs trembling, heart racing—when he doesn’t pause.

He lifts my gown higher, unzips his slacks, and frees his cock. Thick. Hard. Desperate.

“You see that?” he growls, one hand gripping my hip. “Look what you do to me.”

He thrusts into me in one brutal stroke.

I cry out—loud and raw—and he groans like he’s just found heaven.

“This dress isn’t white anymore,” he growls. “It’s mine now. Ruined. Just like you.”

His hand comes back to my throat, controlling my movement. His other palm strokes low across my belly like he’s already picturing it round with his child.

“You want me to put a baby in you while you’re wearing this dress? Knock you up in front of the mirror?”

“Yes—oh my God—”

He slams into me. Over and over. Until I’m shaking again.

“Watch,” he growls. “Watch me breed you.”

I break apart again—louder, rawer, ruined.

He comes with a low, vicious groan, pulsing deep, still watching me through the mirror like he’s memorizing every second.

—-

Aleks lifts me off the vanity like I weigh nothing.

Gently turns me, lays me on the lounge like I’m fragile glass.

Then kneels in front of me.

Smooths my gown back into place, one button at a time. Kisses my stomach. My hands. My lips.

“You good?” he murmurs.

I nod, voice wrecked. “Yeah. I’m so good.”

He glances at the wrinkled hem. “You said this was a loan?”

“Yeah…”

He stands. Tosses his black card onto the table. “We’re buying it.”

“Aleks—”

“Tailor it. Clean it. Frame it for all I care,” he says, kissing my forehead. “It’s the dress you came in while looking at me.”

I laugh—weak and blissed out. “You’re such a menace.”

His grin is slow and wicked. “And you love it.”

“I do.”

He lifts me into his arms like I’m weightless and made of gold.

“Let’s go home,” he murmurs. “I want to do it again. This time with you on top.”