waiting for her husband

Alysha Jarl sat waiting in the dimly lit luxury of her five-star hotel room, her heart a relentless, wild rhythm. This was her wedding night, though it felt like something out of a strange dream.

The room—lavishly prepared with golden lights casting shadows across plush furniture and a bed adorned in layers of silk—only made her feel more alone, more aware of the fact that she was waiting for a man she had never met.

Her new husband, Armin Rodriguez Suegra, was a mystery to her. She hadn’t seen him, not even in photos, yet tonight she was supposed to meet him for the first time. Their marriage was just ink on paper, a contract arranged by the Suegra and Jarl families, sealed with signatures for the sake of power, legacy, and alliance. And here she was, dressed in a gown of white lace, feeling both like a bride and a stranger in her own life.

Outside, the sound of footsteps echoed down the marble hallway, growing closer.

Just then, the faintest sound—a soft click—echoed through the suite, breaking the silence.

The door creaked open, and the unmistakable scent of whiskey filled the air before the man even stumbled inside.

Alysha’s heart skipped a beat. This must be her contract husband, a drunk man.

His entrance was unsteady, his silhouette blurred in the haze of alcohol.

She guided him gently, supporting his weight as he staggered, his strong arms leaning on her shoulders, his gaze warm yet glazed with intoxication. She led him toward the bed, her heart racing with an anticipation she barely understood.

He followed her lead, his fingers brushing down her arm in a way that sent a shiver through her.

As he collapsed onto the soft, sprawling sheets, he looked up at her, his smile slow and seductive, drawing her in like a flame.

Once by the bed, he lowered himself onto it, watching her with a smoldering look that made her pulse race.

His hand found hers, tugging her closer, and she couldn’t help but sink down beside him, feeling his warmth radiate through the thin fabric between them. 

With a quiet, almost reverent touch, he cupped her face, his thumb grazing her cheek. 

His eyes were blurry from drinking, but he had a strong desire for her and pulled her close.

Their mouths met, more urgently, his kiss hungry and relentless, leaving no space for doubt. 

Her fingers traced the hard lines of his shoulders and chest, trying to protest or clam him down.

Unfortunately, he is not ready to let her go. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against him as if he couldn’t get close enough.

With a steady, heated gaze, he slowly slid his hands along her shoulders, easing the straps of her gown down her arms. 

She felt the cool air brush her skin as the fabric slipped away, baring her to him, leaving her breathless and vulnerable beneath his gaze. 

For a moment, he simply looked at her, his blue eyes darkening, his expression shifting to something more primal, more driven. Then, he leaned in, pressing his lips to her collarbone, trailing soft, lingering kisses down her neck.

His hands traced the curves of her body as he moved, his mouth exploring every inch of her skin with a hunger that left her dizzy.

She gasped when he kissed her more strongly, with his lips and hands touching her body with a sense of urgency. Everything was new to her, which made her extremely nervous and shaken.

Why is he acting like this? What’s wrong with him? Is because he is drunk? But why was he so much drunk? Do people act this way to their new wife when they are drunk? Or is this a common ritual of a wedding night in this city? How would she know? She was never married before or heard about wedding night experience from someone else.

With a feverish urgency, he stripped away the last of his clothes, his gaze never leaving hers as he came over her, his movements both commanding and passionate.

She felt his warmth wrap around her and her breath came in short, uneven bursts as he moved closer.