The Bride's Collar Under Her Wedding Dress: A Steamy Bridal Submission Ownership Romance

My slender neck feels bare beneath the wedding dress, even as the ownership papers demand I wear Wesley's collar in secret.

We stand in the document-strewn foyer with the deadline pressing close, and his broad hand settles at the base of my throat after the first review. The contact lingers too long, turning the contract into something I cannot sign without craving the full claim, the hidden leather tightening with every breath I take while my guarded heart warns me against needing him this much. I want the collar more than I fear what it means.

Thane waits just beyond the door. If midnight comes without Wesley fastening that band, I lose the possession I fear wanting more than air.