Emily thinks it went well, probably...

The church was quiet, reverent, bathed in soft light from stained glass windows that splashed purples and golds across the polished floor. Emily sat stiffly between Jason and a woman who smelled like roses and hairspray, her knees pressed together, hands folded in her lap like a schoolgirl.

The dress wasn’t helping. Her bra was already cutting into the tops of her breasts. Every inhale pushed her cleavage higher, the cups struggling to contain her. Sweat prickled behind her knees. The elastic at her waist was digging in.

But that wasn’t why she was shifting in her seat.

She could still feel the heat of Derrick’s gaze on her, like it had soaked into her skin. His voice replayed in her head with maddening clarity—“I remember.”

Jason leaned in to whisper something about the music, but she didn’t hear it. Her eyes drifted across the pews, then up to the front of the church. The groomsmen stood at attention, quiet and solemn. Derrick among them.

He looked calm. Perfect. His hands clasped, his posture military straight. Not a flicker of guilt on his face.

But then—he glanced her way.

Only for a second. Maybe less.

Her breath hitched.

And her nipples tightened.

She wasn’t sure if it was the wine from last night still in her system, or the memories surging forward, uninvited and uncontrollable. She thought of the shower stall in his dorm. The way he used to fuck her with the water still running, pressing her against the cold tile until her screams echoed down the pipes.

She crossed her legs tighter. Her panties were already damp.

The priest cleared his throat, and the first notes of the processional rang out.

Jason shifted beside her. “Here we go.”

Emily kept her eyes forward. The bridal march began. The congregation stood. Everyone turned—

And yet, she couldn’t stop glancing toward Derrick.

As the bride walked down the aisle—some stunning woman in silk and lace, perfectly composed—Emily watched Derrick watch her. Not the woman coming to marry him. Her.

It was subtle. Barely noticeable. A flick of his eyes. The hint of a grin.

But Emily felt it like a touch.

A rush of heat slid down her spine. Her dress clung tighter with every passing second. The pulse between her thighs throbbed steadily, mercilessly.

Jason gave her hand a squeeze, oblivious.

“Beautiful, huh?” he whispered.

Emily nodded. “Mm-hmm.” Her voice was thin. Tight.

One hour ago, she thought, he was hard looking at me.

And now he’s saying ‘I do.’

She wanted to be angry. She wanted to call it disgusting, pathetic.

Instead, she felt her core clench, her breasts heavy and tender. Her nipples ached. Her body didn’t care about shame or rings or rules.

It only remembered how he made her beg.

She blinked hard and looked down at her lap.

The ceremony dragged. Or maybe it flew. She couldn’t remember the readings. She didn’t notice the kiss.

All she knew was that by the time the organ swelled and the bride and groom recessed down the aisle, her underwear was ruined—and Jason hadn’t even looked at her once.