Freya’s POV
Dylan turned his head. He slowed his thrusts just enough to look over his shoulder, his lips curling into a lazy smirk. He didn’t pull out. He straightened up slightly, his thick cock slipping halfway out before slamming back into her wet cunt with a loud slap that made my stomach lurch.
“Well, damn,” Dylan drawled, his voice heavy with lust. “You’re quicker than I thought, baby.”
Helene let out a cruel laugh. She hooked her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his ass to pull him deeper. “Told you she’d come looking.”
The bridal bouquet slipped from my fingers, the white petals scattering over the floor. “Dylan… Helene… what the fuck—”
He finally eased out of my stepsister with a slow drag. He let me see every inch of his hard dick—slick, veiny, and completely unashamed. He stood beside the mattress, his erection jutting forward. He wrapped a hand around the base, giving himself a slow stroke while staring right at me.
“You look good in white, Frey,” his mocking voice echoed. “Too bad it’s wasted tonight.”
Helene rolled onto her side. She kept her legs parted, proudly displaying her dripping pussy. She licked her lips. “Don’t be mad, sis. You always said you wanted a real man. Well… he is.”
Before I could speak, Helene slid off the bed and sauntered toward Dylan. She was completely naked, owning every second of it. She turned her back to me, bent over, and spread her wet slit open with two fingers. In one smooth motion, she guided Dylan’s stiff cock right back inside her.
A loud moan ripped from her throat as she took him to the hilt. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
Dylan gripped her hips, his eyes fixed on me. “See this, Frey? This is what you’ve been missing. She squeezes my dick like a vice.”
They started fucking again. Helene’s bare ass slapped against his pelvis with every brutal thrust. She reached back to grab his thigh, sliding her other hand down to rub her clit while he pounded her tight pussy.
“Look at her face,” Helene gasped. “She’s shocked. Cute baby.”
Dylan chuckled, slamming deeper. “Bet she’s wet right now. Jealous cunt.”
My knees buckled. I grabbed the doorframe to stay upright. Tears burned my eyes, but the hot rage was stronger. “You’re both sick,” I whispered.
Helene turned her sweaty cheek toward me. “Sick? Nah. Honest. You should try it, maybe then he wouldn’t sneak around with me.”
Dylan groaned, his pace quickening. “Fuck, Hel—gonna cum soon if you keep talking.”
“Do it,” Helene hissed, grinding back. “Cum deep inside my pussy while she watches. Let her see what a real wife gets.”
Dylan threaded his fingers through her hair. “See? This is what you could never do.”
I couldn’t breathe. The wet slapping and the filthy words carved a permanent scar into me. My knees hit the floor. The wedding gown pooled around me like spilled milk. Hot tears blurred Dylan’s face as he kept fucking Helene, rocking lazily like I was just an inconvenient interruption.
“Why?” The raw word tore out of me. “Why are you doing this, Dylan? What did I do to deserve this?”
I looked up, searching for the boy who once held me under cheap lights. All I saw was a stranger with cold eyes and a cruel smile.
He let out an amused laugh that sliced deeper than any blade. He pulled out of Helene, tucking his dick away with casual indifference. Helene stayed pressed against the wall, her legs parted like a photoshoot.
“Why?” Dylan wiped his mouth. “Because I never loved you, Freya.”
The words landed like a physical blow. I gasped, clutching my chest.
“I stayed because it was easy,” his flat voice continued. “You were safe. You never asked for much. But love? I never felt that. Not once.”
Ugly sobs ripped from my throat.
“And the sex…” He shook his head with open pity. “God, you were awful. Like fucking a limp ragdoll. No moans, no movement, nothing. Helene? She knows how to take a dick. She makes a man lose his fucking mind. You could never satisfy me.”
Helene laughed softly, sliding a possessive hand down Dylan’s chest.
Ten years. Ten years of giving everything, reduced to a ragdoll.
I lifted my tear-streaked face. They didn’t care. Helene's hand trailed down his back while he grinned like a hungry predator.
“Stop,” I choked out, my voice gaining strength. “Just... stop this shit now!”
Helene propped herself up on her elbows. “Why? Jealous, sis? Dylan has always loved me. You just came between us.”
Dylan stretched casually. “Frey, we've been fucking for two years. Tonight was our send-off before I committed to a boring life with you.”
Two years! The revelation hit like a slap. My nails dug into my palms. The blazing rage consumed my shock. “You're both disgusting. Tonight is our wedding!”
“Honestly, Frey, you should thank us. Now you don't have to pretend.” Helene pulled him down for a taunting kiss. The sloppy sounds resumed as he pushed back into her, fucking her again just to mock me.
Something snapped. I lunged forward, grabbing a glass vase from the nightstand, and hurled it at the wall above them. Shards rained down. “Get out!” I screamed. “Get the fuck out of this room!”
He pulled out suddenly, his throbbing cock slick with her juices. He stroked himself, locking eyes with me. “Your room? Sweetheart, I paid for half this wedding. I’ll fuck wherever I want.”
Helene dropped to her knees. She took his hard cock into her mouth without hesitation, giving him a sloppy blowjob. She made sure I heard every wet suck. Dylan guided her head while staring at his bride.
Helene pulled off with a loud pop, saliva connecting her lips to his tip. She grinned. “Sis, Dylan's cock tastes great. Come try it.”
They burst into mocking laughter.
My humiliation burned away, leaving only pure rage. The wedding gown felt like a heavy shroud. Every wet slap and moan carved itself into my memory.
That was the moment something broke inside me. Not into tears, but into cold clarity. I wiped my face. My steady voice cut through their laughter.
“You’re both going to regret this.”
Dylan snorted, stroking himself. “What are you gonna do? Cry to Daddy?”
I didn’t answer. I simply turned and walked out, closing the door with a soft click. My heels clicked against the marble like gunshots.
Then I stopped.
Wait. The moans had echoed in the hallway earlier.
Security cameras. A cruel smile spread across my lips.
I lifted my skirts and sprinted toward the control room. The startled guard looked up at the bride bursting in.
“CCTV footage,” I demanded in a calm voice. “Hallway outside Helene’s suite. Now.”
He hesitated for a second before pulling up the feed.
There it was—timestamped and undeniable. Dylan and Helene in the hallway minutes ago. Mouths fused, Helene’s bare leg hooked around his waist as he ground his crotch shamelessly against her before disappearing into the room.
My hands shook as I copied the digital file to a USB drive.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Back in the ballroom, guests were restless. Open speculation buzzed through the air. My stepmom looked smug. Dad looked uncomfortable. Dylan and Helene were still missing.
I walked straight to the projector booth. The audio technician started to protest, but I silenced him with one look.
I plugged in the drive.
The massive screen behind the altar flickered to life.
The explicit footage began to play.
Loud gasps rippled through the crowd. Phones came out instantly. Someone shrieked.
I stepped to the microphone. My voice rang out.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said. “The wedding is canceled.”
I waited for the shocked murmurs to quiet.
“Here’s why.”
I let the dirty footage run—every kiss, every grope projected twenty feet high for the elite city to see.
“My fiancé and my stepsister chose to fuck each other on our wedding day. Enjoy the show.”