Wedding Night BBC Bull Breeds Wife

I stood in the doorway of the honeymoon suite in my white wedding dress, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. The reception had ended an hour ago, the laughter and clinking glasses now replaced by the low hum of the luxury hotel’s air conditioning and the heavy beat of my own pulse. Mark, my husband of only six hours, sat in the velvet armchair by the window, looking at me with that familiar mixture of love and hungry anticipation.

I swallowed hard and reached for the man standing just behind me.

“Darius,” I said, my voice softer than I intended, “this is Mark… my husband.”

Darius stepped forward, all six-foot-four of him, broad shoulders filling the elegant doorway. His dark skin gleamed under the warm lamplight, the crisp white shirt stretched tight across a chest that looked carved from obsidian. He extended a large hand toward Mark, who rose to shake it without hesitation.