The Father And The Bridesmaid

This one is a bit of a slow burn. For those of you who like your stories to strike quick and hard, this may be a bit frustrating. But for those of you who enjoy stories to build slowly, with an inevitable intensity, until they strike so deep and shaking the release is a full body cascade… this may be for you. Here’s hoping these stories will eventually knit together in something like a greater, more perverted design. Enjoy. CHAPTER 1

Michaela Birch kept her biggest fetish secret.

Like most girls coming out of college, she had a pretty, free, open, and joking vibe with her girlfriends when they talked about sex. She knew which of their boyfriends were horrible in bed, which ones she would jump on in a flash if they became single, and which of her girlfriends pushed the limits.

Still, Michaela kept her kink, and its secret fulfillment, to herself. First, because she was not sure how they would react and second, her kink involved someone they all knew. 

The drama—if discovered—would be spectacular. Her secret was this: She had seduced her best friend’s father. 

Sure, a few of her friends probably had the same kink thinking about older men. But Michaela suspected if you’re a hot, put together twenty-something girl and all you fantasize about are men old enough to be your father, friends may joke to your face, but behind your back they’ll talk a blue streak about your weird Daddy issues. At least that’s what she feared. 

For most, those fears would be deterrent enough to stuff down their desires and become unhappy. But Michaela had seen enough of the world to know delirious delights were there for the having if you reached out in just the right way. In just the last year of college she had experienced two situations most people would consider their peak sexual exploit. First was with her FWB, a safety on her university’s football team and two of his teammates. Second was a scorching three-month affair with her favorite art history professor who she now thought of as her starter Dom.

Still, fucking someone of your parent’s age who all your friends knew (and fancied to be sure) was another turn-on. While it was true there’s less and less deemed forbidden these days, actually, in real life fucking your friend’s dad would definitely put Michaela in another category. 

But by 24, she had learned ‘Forbidden’ drove her wild. Well, I guess I have daddy issues, she thought. 

If she was in mind for a screaming orgasm, she had to imagine an older, handsome man sporting salt and pepper in his hair taking his lifetime of experience out on her soft, curvy body and filling her sweet, tight pussy. Outside of the bedroom she was a typical hard-charging, got-my-shit-together young professional. But inside the bedroom, Michaela wanted an older man who couldn’t help but pounce on her young, supple curves and didn’t leave her alone until she was a soaked mess–sweating, sore and satisfied.

All of this was to say Michaela’s ultimate fantasy came to pass this last weekend: being wrecked thoroughly by a man who she’d known since high school.

So yes, Michaela had Daddy issues. They all stemmed from the original daddy: her best friend Veronica Ravenwood’s father. Michaela had known Veronica since they were both freshmen and Micha had loved her for just as long. Throughout high school, she went to Veronica’s house every weekend to watch movies or reality trach, study in her room or tease boys over Snapchat. When they prepped for senior prom, they dressed at Veronica’s. 

And through every one of those years, Michaela would pray to catch a glimpse of Patrick Ravenwood, Veronica’s fit, hot, handsome father. He looked like an older version of Mark Ruffelo, with a kind and striking face. He had an athlete’s grace that hinted at a real strength buried under his easygoing persona. 

The only indication Michaela ever had he noticed her was when she came downstairs to get into the limo on prom night. Michaela saw his eyes go to Veronica and she could see the pride and happiness he had at having such a beautiful daughter. But when his eyes moved to her, Michaela could see them open wide, his smile sharpen, his lips open involuntarily. When he saw Veronica he saw his little girl. When he saw Michaela, months before she went off to college, his eyes traced her every curve she had before he caught himself and looked away lest Veronica, or her mother and Patrick’s wife Lauren, noticed. 

They missed his indiscretion, but Michaela had noticed. She had a private, prideful smile all through prom.

When she was alone during her freshman year of college, tracing her fingers along her pussy, Michaela would imagine him giving her that look when they were alone. She would imagine him coming to her, gentle but powerful, strong and overwhelming, driving into her a pleasure Michaela never got from most of the timid and fumbling nice guys or the cocky and self-centered boys her age. If it weren’t for her football incident and Professor Wolf, she would have graduated from college a supremely frustrated young woman.

And the years since graduation had not been much better. 

She was almost twenty-four and about to finish graduate school, so she hadn’t seen Patrick in years when Veronica told Michaela she was going to marry Brett Sanders. The wedding was set for July at the Mayflower, the famous,  grand luxury hotel in Washington, D.C.

Michaela got there the day before the rehearsal. 

Walking into the lobby with her stuff Michaela was brought up short by a tall, older man in line ahead of her. He had his hand on the handle of a stylish rolling suitcase with a suit bag hooked to it. His stance was relaxed, but even through his clothes, Michaela could see a trim body that would be the envy of a man twenty years his junior. It wasn’t until the desk clerk called his turn that Michaela saw his profile and nearly fainted.

It was Patrick Ravenwood. He looked better than he had ten years before. He had that George Clooney thing going on, where for every year added he became that much hotter. Laying eyes on him Michaela had to fight off a rush of sharp greed. If we had been alone in a room right then, Michaela wouldn’t have been able to help putting her hands on him. That’s how good he looked.

“Patrick?” Michaela said before she thought.

Looking at her, he gave a warm, delighted smile that felt like the sun breaking across her skin.

“Michaela? Wow, look at you,” he said. “And… WOW, look at you.”

She was tickled to see him actually goggle at her for a moment before catching himself. 

To play along Michaela spun in place, a joking little motion that had the benefit of showing off her summer dress and the womanly curves it was chosen to accentuate.

“How have you been?” he asked.

“Good. Pushing through graduate school now. It will be to graduate again but this time get actually get a job,” Michaela said. She waved her hand around the lobby as if to somehow indicate everything about the wedding weekend. “But I suspect you’ve heard while prepping for all this.”

“I do. Lauren is taking the brunt of that with Veronica, but I think I’ve heard the highlights.”

She smiled and laughed nervously. With a few words Michaela had somehow managed to hit several sore points at once. Patrick and Lauren had divorced in her last year of high school. Veronica’s mom had cheated on him and it flung a wrecking ball through all their lives. Her friend has spent most of her college career not talking to her mother and the feelings had only begun to thaw in the last year or so. While they did patch things up by the time Veronica graduated, there were still chilly edges to the interactions between V and her mom.

Some of their reconciliation had been imposed by the turbulence of the last few years. When she couldn’t get a job straight after graduation, V reluctantly moved into her mother’s house and Lauren took the opportunity to do everything she could to mend fences. With her daughter, at least. 

“Well, I’m glad to see things looking up for Veronica,” Michaela said, trying to distract him. Then, before Michaela could stop herself she said, “It is nice to see you again. It will be fun to catch up.”

On what? Michaela asked herself. Michaela could see the words surprised him too by the quizzing tilt of his head. But then he gave her a smile she'd never seen before.

“Yes. I think it will, Michaela,” he said. Michaela was thrilled through her lingering embarrassment. She lapsed into silence as he checked in and gave him a silent wave as he moved off towards his room.

While checking in, Michaela was distracted by the tantalizing possibilities. Was she onto something with him, or had she blown any chance for him to see me as something other than Veronica’s little friend.

Over the next twenty-four hours, Michaela began to get her answer. It was difficult to control her thrills.

Through the next day’s activities, breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant, the bridal party luncheon, the rehearsal and dinner, Michaela kept seeing Patrick's eyes dart from away as her’s looked to him. He was watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Michaela hoped no one was looking at her when she realized this because every time she would get a flash of heat, of excited desire and find herself wet at the thought he could not keep his eyes away.

Strangely, through it all, Michaela was also feeling sorry for him. Lauren could barely keep her disdain contained. She was never a huge fan of Lauren, but now Michaela went from an uneasy discomfort to a straight and full hate.

No one loves a cheater, so Lauren had that going against her. But as everyone worked through the rehearsal and set off for dinner Michaela could hear in every word Lauren said to him, every request, every offhand comment, a core of spite. And through it all, he was pleasant, polite and accommodating.

As she sat at dinner, witnessing Lauren’s swipes and stabs, Michaela found herself for a fissure in the exchange where she could step between them.

But he never gave her an opening. Michaela would suspect he was being passive-aggressive, but she could see he just didn’t have a dog in the fight she wanted to start.

As the rehearsal dinner wound down, Michaela found herself sitting with Patrick at one of the tables, watching over the aftermath of dessert, anticipating the import and ceremony of the next day.

Michaela saw him watching Lauren pepper Veronica with motherly second-guessing. 

“I would say you should go over and bail Veronica out,” she said. “But I think Lauren would love that too much.”

“It is amazing to watch her itch for a fight,” Patrick said, laughing.

“Veronica knows,” Michaela said, wondering again if she was fumbling her chance to comfort him amid the stress. He looked at her with a confused smile.

“Knows what?” There were light lines around Patrick's eyes. Not those of an old man, but those of a handsome man living through every day. Michaela’s stomach fluttered at seeing them shift with his smile.

“What she… What Lauren is,” Michaela said. “I see you being the bigger man here, and I just want you to know even though you’re being polite and nice it doesn’t mean Lauren is fooling anyone. Veronica can see who’s importing the stress. It looks to me like Lauren is trying to make you out to be some person you’re not by trying to have a fight that just isn’t happening. I just want you to know Veronica can see right through it.”

Patrick nodded sadly in understanding.

“What do you think Michaela should do?” he asked.

“Well, obviously you should change everything,” Michaela said with an ironic tone. “Haven’t you heard anything Lauren said? You’re doing EVERYTHING WRONG!”

That brought out a laugh in Patrick. It felt great to break him up with the kind of teasing Michaela shared with people her own age. She had the strange feeling of stepping past a milestone of maturity, like passing her driver’s test. She was joking with Veronica’s hot dad like they were equals. 

Their shared laughter drew looks, including Veronica's and Lauren’s. Michaela smiled at them, her eyes lingering on Lauren’s.

After a moment, Michaela leaned in and dropped her voice. “I think you should keep doing what you’re doing.”

Patrick settled a regarding look on her. Michaela felt a tingle corkscrew up her spine.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “At least someone thinks I’m doing something right.”

“I’m sure Veronica does,” Michaela said. After a pause, she couldn’t help but look into his slate-blue eyes and say, “I do, too.”

Something she had been unable to hide in her tone caught his ear and Michaela saw his eyes flick to Veronica and Lauren, then came back to rest on her’s. She felt another wave of hot nerves. He didn’t say anything but nodded with a smile.

“Good,” was finally all he said. Michaela couldn’t think of anything else to say, so she stood to say her goodbyes.

Since leaving Patrick, Lauren had stopped seeing the guy she cheated with. Michaela suspected he broke it off but never wanted to pry. Since then, broken from the taboo thrill of the affair, it became clear Lauren had noticed most of her friends, along with those of her daughter and most of her family had sided with Patrick. 

Watching the comment wars back and forth on Instagram and Facebook had been epic. Michaela wondered if that reality came as a shock to Lauren. She was so unpleasant, so entitled and so snide Michaela couldn’t imagine someone with any self-awareness not understanding how a free and easy man like him would be more liked than a spiky bitch like her. Her clueless outlook was astonishing.

“Get some sleep,” Michaela said to Veronica. “You’re beautiful. It will all be great. Now is the time you have to just enjoy it.”

“Thanks, Micha,” Veronica said, but Michaela could see the churning of doubt inside her.

“She’ll be fine,” Lauren said, shouldering into our conversation. “I’m right here if she needs anything.”

Michaela wasn’t shocked to see the daggers Lauren was showing in her eyes. She was shocked at Lauren’s choice to display them so boldly. Michaela looked to Veronica and nodded.

“Great,” Michaela said, unable to completely tie down the bitch inside of her. “Guess that means I can look for something else to occupy her time. But you call me if you need anything, okay V?”

Veronica looked between Lauren and Michaela. She was aware of her mother’s harsh reactions and shrugged it off. She gave her friend a conspiring smile.

“Will do,” she said. Michaela left with Lauren’s eyes on her back.

Thinking it all over, what she had seen in prior years and in the last twenty-four hours, Michaela was most appalled to realize what seemed to anger Lauren most was Patrick's willingness to say yes to her pointless demands. She literally detested his niceness. He wasn’t a pushover. He wasn’t endlessly accommodating. He just didn’t see the need to tug over meaningless points.

Thankfully, the next day Lauren was too busy making Veronica miserable to pay Michaela any mind. The bridal party ate, laughed, drank, got their hair and makeup done, drank and finally dressed. 

Thankfully, as the bridal party was in the staging area beside the ballroom, readied and waiting for the big moment, Veronica finally barked at her mother to stow her shit and relax. For a moment Lauren did. But the tight, close vibe of a good wedding party had cracked. A brittle silence fell as the maid of honor–one of Veronica’s cousins–comforted her and everyone else tried to pretend they didn’t feel the tension. As the last half hour ticked down while the guests filed in, Michaela stepped outside to gather her thoughts. 

There, waiting to walk his daughter down the aisle was Patrick.

“Hey you,” Michaela said. 

Turning to her Patrick was revealed in all his tuxedoed glory. Michaela could feel a twinge between her legs and a trickle of wetness part her lower lips. Patrick looked as good in his tuxedo as any man Michaela had ever seen in a suit. It hugged his chest and fit his stomach just right, the slacks falling down his thighs like a fashion designer’s dream. His handsome face, his shining blue eyes, and his wry smile all made Michaela weak. 

His eyes roved over her in a coveting gaze that filled her with delight.

“Wow,” was all he said. 

All day Michaela had wondered about the effect her make-up, hair and form-hugging bridesmaid dress would have on Patrick. She knew the corset built into the dress helped shelve her breasts high and proud. Seeing his eyes range over her sent a gust of arousal through her. Veronica’s make-up girl had given her chest a light dusting of glitter and she wondered if Patrick could see the blush under the sparkles.

His naked admiration was intoxicating.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Michaela said with a shy grin. But her nerves were melting away with every moment he kept his eyes on her. “So I just realized you didn’t bring a new Mrs. Ravenwood.”

“Who would that be?” Patrick said with a chuckle.

“Oh, I don’t know. I have a hard time believing you don’t get plenty of attention from the ladies. You don’t have Tinder? Or is a Match.com profile more your speed?”

Patrick shook his head. “Nope. I thought this was more about Veronica’s day, so I thought that might distract.”

Michaela could see he was nervous touching the subject. She could feel the power shift as they talked, so she pressed.

“But what about after the ceremony? There’s not a new girlfriend you could have danced with?”

Patrick could see the path Michaela was stepping on. He paused almost like he making some private decision. “Nope. Looks like I’ll have to satisfy herself dancing with the women who are already here.”

Michaela smiled back at him.

“Well, I know you’ve got one girl to dance with tonight. But when you’re done, promise to save me a dance?”

Patrick's eyes widened. It was almost as if he wasn’t believing Michaela would be so forward and was happy to see her break through our normal roles.

“Just one?”

“Not necessarily.”

“I’ll do that, Micha. Of course, she’s my girl. But you aren’t.”

“No, Mr. Ravenwood, I’m not at all your little girl.”

Michaela was rewarded with a flush in his cheeks. Before she could say anything else, the door behind them opened and it was time to assemble.

“There you are,” Lauren said with an exasperated sigh. “We’ve been looking everywhere.”

“Mom, stop it! We have not,” Veronica said behind her. “This is exactly where he’s supposed to be.”

“What are you doing here,” Lauren said to Michaela.

“Nothing,” Michaela chirped like a high school freshman lying to their weary parents and daring them to ask why. She gave Lauren her bitchiest smile, then her sweetest to Veronica. 

“You look amazing,” she told her friend. 

“Thank you,” Veronica said, looking at her dad as though she was about to cry. Michaela took the chance to fall into place in the bridal party. When Michaela looked down the line of bridesmaids, flower girls and Veronica, Michaela could see Patrick give her a lightning-quick smirk she was sure was all for her.

Then Michaela was gone from his mind. He kissed Veronica and whispered something in her ear. She looked like an angel in white. Michaela saw a tear form in her eye as she smiled at him. Before Michaela knew it, her eyes were glistening as well.

Michaela always loved to see a good man in action and right now Patrick was in top form just when his daughter needed it. Michaela didn’t know it then, but he would be in top form all night long.

Chapter 2

The wedding was a dream: beautiful, moving, sweet and hopeful. Michaela could see Veronica’s love for Brett was strong and sure, as was his for her. The only false note was Lauren. It was a strange feeling to have her there to celebrate love and union between people when she had taken a bat to her own marriage vows.

Michaela didn’t know if these thoughts crossed Patrick's mind, but at moments she saw his smile fall a bit, his eyes grow unfocused in thought. When she saw it, Michaela tried to catch his eye with a friendly smile. When his eyes found her, he lit up. All over again Michaela felt the sweeping potential building between them.

Still, it seemed like an impossible dream. Going from quiet flirtations and lingering glances to having him in her bed still seemed fanciful.

Through the dinner, the toasts and the first dances Michaela entertained the idea but could not bring herself to have any real hope. 

Then as Veronica danced with Brett and the wedding party fell into slow spirals around the dance floor, Michaela found Patrick cutting in on her and the groomsman she was paired with.

“Mind if I finish this dance?”

“Ah, brah, no… Man!” the groomsman grumbled with the smile of someone who knew he was beaten. 

“Thank you for the dance Stan,” Michaela said as she twirled away in Patrick’s grasp and he finally, fully settled his smile on her.

“I think I promised you this,” Patrick said, one of his broad hands closing around her’s as his other slid under her arm to rest with a warm pressure at the small of her back. Michaela closed her fingers around his and put her other hand along his firm side. Despite being old enough to be her father, he still carried hard muscle. The feeling of shifting with the music under her fingers made her swoon.

“You did,” Michaela said. “Is it always so easy to get things from you? All I have to do is get you to promise?”

“If I promise it, I do it,” Patrick said. In the dimness of the dance floor, the lights of the mirror ball radiating around the room, Michaela couldn’t help but stare up at him. She was afraid her gaze would betray the yearnings rising under her skin, but she couldn’t help it. 

“I’ll have to be careful with that power,” Michaela said. Patrick's eyebrow shot up as he grinned.

“Oh? What do you want me to promise?”

Michaela opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t bring herself to say it. In college, Michaela would have said it straight out. Hook-ups can be so easy. But this was different. 

Instead, Michaela gave a throaty laugh and her meaning was just as plain as if she had asked.

Patrick was laughing too, a knowing mirth synchronized with hers. Michaela couldn’t help but slide her hand along his side, surveying.

Then she realized he hadn’t dissuaded her. He didn’t make a joke, didn’t try to defuse her implications. At that realization, Michaela found herself unable to speak. 

As they swayed with the music, Michaela felt his eyes dip down her body. His gaze was devouring her inch by inch. She had images in her mind of stepping back and dropping her dress for him. It was absurd and horrifying in a way, here amid all their friends, family and especially Veronica. But Michaela wanted to surrender to him more than anything at this point.

“So…” Patrick said, and Michaela could feel a tremble of nerves in his voice. “What are your plans after this?”

“I don’t know. I think Stan was trying to get something going with some of the others in the bridal party,” Michaela said.”But I know Veronica and Brett are taking off, so I don’t know if anything will come together. I suspect he’ll be asking me to do something regardless”

“How are his chances?” Patrick asked.

“Hopeless,” Michaela said.

They looked at each other and they could each feel the other dancing around what was becoming impossible to ignore. They wanted to get to the same place but didn’t know how to circle into it in a way that wasn’t obvious or… crude. To leap the final barrier.

Michaela racked her brain to think of some way to keep the flirtation going. Feeling his palm on her back, his big hand around hers, Michaela knew she had to have his hands roam over her.

“What about you?”

“Looking for cover I’m sure,” Patrick said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the wedding’s over. Lauren doesn’t have a reason to hold back anymore.”

That had never occurred to Michaela. A new coil of disdain curled in her.

“Maybe you just need a place to hide,” Michaela said. Before she realized she’d said it, there it was.

Patrick’s face turned to her, his features soft and intense at all at once. Michaela felt the fullness of his attention and it was wonderful. See could see in an instant the last vestige of her younger self had been driven from his thoughs. The Michaela who befriended his daughter as a freshman in high school was as lost to time as his newspaper subscription. 

Now the flesh and blood Patrick, who had walked Veronica down the aisle just a few hours ago, was looking at Michaela as the Patrick in her fantasy did: confident, relaxed, knowing and strong. 

“Do you have any ideas, Michaela?”

Michaela nodded just as the slow dance ended and the first fast song of the night ramped up. 

“Room 451 might work.”

Patrick was still for a moment. 

Michaela’s heart froze. 

Then he gave a movement of his head like a nod, but before Michaela could know for sure a hustle of people shifted around them and swamped the moment.

Michaela stepped away, gathering her thoughts and trying to keep her legs steady. She hadn’t realized it until then, but she was soaking. 

There was a feeling between her thighs so empty it almost hurt. The muscles of her pelvis and stomach felt wound up, tight and humming. Everything was alive. She found herself with her back against a wall. The lights had dimmed to spur on the dance club phase of the reception. She was glad for the chance to disappear.

Michaela watched Veronica dance. She watched Brett twirl his coat and let it fly away. She laughed and smiled. But every happy thought soon curved back to the idea of Patrick on top of her.

Michaela was desperate.

Not knowing what to do, not sure if she had just made a fool of herself, Michaela sat back down at the head table and stared with half-seeing eyes at the half-empty Champagne flutes and dirty cake plates. For a silly moment, she wanted to cry. 

Enjoying a fantasy was one thing. Having it come true was another. Having it within twenty seconds of happening and then slipping away was just torture.

Out of the cloud of thoughts, Michaela found her eyes focusing on a tall man striding through the crowd.

“451?” Patrick said. 

Michaela smiled wide and nodded, not trusting her voice not to crack.

“I have to stay here until a few things are organized,” he said. All the doubts were gone and Michaela rose as he shared with her a conspiring smile.

“I can wait,” Michaela said, so low it may have been lost in the echoing music.

Now Patrick said nothing. His answer was his secret smile growing wider for her. Michaela couldn’t help but giggle. She felt eighteen again. Somehow as he smiled at her, she felt she could see the twenty-something in Patrick. 

She wanted to lean on the table right there and stretch out for a kiss. Instead she spun on her heel to find the Bride. 

As she hugged Veronica and Brett goodnight, and exchanged promises for lunches and dinners and drinks after the honeymoon, Michaela felt beyond wicked. She told Veronica she looked beautiful. She told Veronica she was happy for her.

As Michaela smiled at Veronica, listening to her friend gushing her final exaltation about her day and her first hours of married bliss, she contemplated unspeakably filthy things about the father of the bride. 

She was truly shameless. She felt truly corrupt. She was wet when she kissed Veronica’s cheek and said goodnight. 

And Michaela loved every forbidden sinful moment of it.

Chapter 3

Waiting for Patrick’s knock was a torture of anticipation for Michaela. 

While making her way from the dance floor to the lobby, saying goodbye to guests and bridesmaids and groomsmen along the way, then finding Stan in the lobby for another goodbye before hitting the elevator, a single thought occupied Michaela’s mind like a high schooler who had just lost her virginity: can everyone read it on my face? Can they see I’m thinking of getting railed by the bride’s father and that single thought is consuming her mind?

This came home keenly as Michaela left the reception ballroom and found Lauren chatting with relatives but focusing a furious stare at her daughter’s best friend. Michaela smiled and waved but the gesture only seemed to make Lauren more frosty. Squaring her shoulders, Michaela walked past her and away down the hall. 

She knew it was unhealthy, but something about Lauren’s spite made her happy. Seeing Lauren’s sour face and her proven cruelty being so powerless to dampen Michaela’s desire to fuck Patrick somehow doubled her appetite for Veronica’s father in a single heartbeat. 

As Lauren’s hard eyes followed her, Michaela made a show of turning her head away, as if wiping her from her life, and swaying her hips as she moved off towards the lobby.

Now Michaela sat beside the window in her hotel room, looking at the queen-size bed and imagining herself face down, ass up. That’s the way I like to fuck, Michaela laughed as the pervy old song’s chorus echoed through her head. Thinking of Patrick, somewhere in this building working to get to her, working to bring her fantasy to a secluded fruition, set off a torrent between her legs. 

Michaela wondered if she’d ever been more slick for a man as she was tonight.

But then, as she sat, the moments ticked by and the knock did not come.

She thought to text him but realized she didn’t even have his phone number. Sitting in the silence, Michaela had the sick realization Lauren couldn’t stop her, but she may have been able to intercept Patrick. 

Surely Lauren had seen Patrick and Michaela smile and laugh together. While there wasn’t anything inappropriate she could latch onto, Lauren didn’t need anything substantial to be mean.

As the silent minutes dragged on, her heart fell. The full excitement thrumming through began to curdle into a mean disappointment. Michaela looked at the clock. 12:30 a.m. Despite her hopes, Michaela began talking to herself, to let herself down easy, to remind herself that while he wanted no doubt, maybe his cooler head had prevailed. 

Then the silence in the room was broken by a low but urgent knock. 

Michaela jumped up as if the rap was a starter’s pistol and tore the door open. As it swung wide, Patrick filled the frame with a smiling, apologetic cast.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. He held up a bottle of wine and two glasses in one hand, a plate with two pieces of his daughter’s wedding cake in the other. Michaela grabbed his jacket’s lapel and pulled him inside.

“Get yourself in here,” Michaela said. In a strange way it felt as though she'd almost lost him in the last ten minutes. Her patience for waiting was gone. If this was her chance, Michaela was going to take it now.

“Put that down,” she said, keeping her hand closed on his jacket. When Patrick put the bottle, glasses and plate on the credenza she pulled him by the bed. 

“Would you like some wine?” he asked.

“Na-ah,” Michaela said in a pouting voice.

It was clear he wanted to be nice and gentle about it, but she was in no mood.

“Cake?” Patrick offered with a wink. Michaela could see he was toying with her.

“After,” Michaela said.

“You don’t want anything to eat?” Patrick said, stepping close. 

“I didn’t say that,” Michaela said.

From his gaze, Michaela could see he was savoring her. They enjoyed this last moment before the fantasy began and they lived the rest of their lives having lived out these forbidden urges.

Michaela looked right at him, closed her fingers around both of his lapels now and let her mouth open with a lewd provocation.

Michaela pulled him down, astonished at her own brazenness until his face was hovering above hers. Then she raised herself to tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

The feeling was incredible. It was beyond what she wanted. His lips and skin had lost some of the softness of youth but only tasted sweeter. It was like what made him sexy had been boiled down to its essence with age. 

With a strength wrapped in tenderness, he brought his big hand to her face. Cupping Michaela’s cheek, and holding her to his kiss, Patrick moved his other hand around her body to the small of her back. It was just where it had been when they danced a few hours ago, but now held her close for a different reason.

As he held her firmly where he wanted her, Michaela let go of his lapels and slid her arms under his jacket and around to his back. Michaela could feel the black suspenders holding his slacks, the warmth trapped between his body and his tuxedo coat. In a twisted way, it reminded her of her dad wrapping her in his arms when Michaela was a kid and pulling his coat around them both. 

But there was nothing of her father in Patrick, and there was nothing of a young girl in Michaela now.

After a moment of mouths on one another, finding their way through the first sensations of the first kiss, it was as though the duo had broken through a barrier. 

Patrick’s movements went from slow and sweet to hard and firm. He snaked his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, then up into her hair. Michaela could feel his thick fingers close, pinching her hair, still made up, in his closing hand. Michaela squealed at his assertion and was sure she would deny him nothing.

Patrick held Michaela hard, kissing her so fiercely she felt herself falling back. A half-step later her ass hit the credenza and she found herself pushing the bottle and plate out of the way so she could shimmy on top and sit. 

Patrick's amazing lips were still on her, drawing out of her a yearning and eagerness tailored only to him. Feeling his mouth open, gentle and smooth, strong and confident, Michaela wondered if she would ever go back to men her age.

As he kissed her, Michaela’s legs opened on their own and she felt Patrick shift quickly to slide between them. He leaned down and licked at her lips as he did. 

No one had so thoroughly owned her so fast in her life. And it was there, as Michaela craned her legs wider to welcome him she finally felt his hardness brush her thigh from under the fabric of his slacks. 

Letting out a begging groan, she dissolved into a chaotic laugh at her desperation to feel more. Before Patrick could react, she pulled him into another kiss. Michaela felt lucky beyond reason. That one stroke set her every nerve on fire. 

She pulled her hands from his back, pressing her palms to his sides, his chest, his stomach, needing to feel every inch of him.

Eventually, her hands slid around to his ass, feeling his firm cheeks as she squeezed. Feeling his firm ass in her palms made her groan out a pouting moan.

Patrick's mouth brushed back and forth on hers, his lips almost smothering her in kisses. Even that didn’t satisfy. He was giving it all to her and even that wasn’t enough. She needed it faster. 

Michaela grabbed one of his hands from around her hip and pulled it towards her breast. Before Michaela could place him, he pulled out of her grip.

“No, no,” he said. He could see her furious need and was happy to tease me.

Michaela pouted again, hoping to seduce him with her plain desire. “But please… I need you.”

“You need what?”

“I need you. I need to feel you.” Saying the words made her light headed.

“Why do you need me?” She didn’t appreciate it in the moment, but his experience was dominating her even here.

“Because you know what you’re doing,” Michaela said. She put a coquettish purr in her voice, hoping to show him how sexy he was to her. “Because you’re not like the other boys I know.”

“So maybe you should listen to me,” Patrick said. “Maybe I know more than those boys and you should do what I say.”

The mixture of confidence and assurance growled out in almost a fatherly tone was so attractive, twisted, and inviting Michaela was powerless. But she couldn’t help but test him so she let out her inner brat.

Looking up at him like she was going to submit, Michaela slid her hand down his front and curled her palm along the ridge of his hard cock. Still bound in his pants, Michaela wasn’t able to hold it, but she could feel his length and size. She wanted to beg. 

As quickly as she had grabbed him, Patrick’s fingers closed around her wrist and pulled her away.

“Bad girl,” he said, raising an eyebrow. First, he forced one of Michaela’s hands behind her back, then the other. He curled his fingers around her wrists and held them together with just one of his big hands.

“Maybe I need a father figure,” Michaela said, pouting and challenging.

He leaned in close, his eyes so near she couldn’t focus.

“I’m not your fucking father,” he said. 

Before Michaela could respond, he dropped his face down and took a stretch of her neck between his teeth. She let out a thrilled scream that bled into a long, keening groan. The hand he had on her wrists closed tighter to show her who was in control while his free palm slid up her side, found the edge of her bodice, and pulled down hard.

Another heartbeat and he pulled it down further, half kneeling, and Michaela felt her bare nipple pulled into his mouth. In a swirl of ecstasy, she cried out again. She was loving how he showed her who was boss.

Patrick’s tongue wound around and around her areola, which tightened with delicious contractions with each revolution. Soon it was so puckered, her areola so rigid all she could think about was coming. 

It was like every movement was winding up her every limb like a spring-powered toy. 

Craning her neck back, Michaela tried to pull in the pleasure he was carefully piecing out. She could tell this was not his first time playing the master for some lucky girl. The thought passed her mind he had been pleasing or fucking women for longer than she had been alive. Of course, he would be masterful.

 Never had her body been played so well. Quick and slow, hard and soft, chaste and lewd, he was alternating every sensation to create a consuming fever. And he was prompting just the effect he desired.

“Oh my God, I am your fucking slave,” Michaela said before she could stop herself. With a knowing chuckle, Patrick gave a last, hard pull on her nipple then pulled back.

“Then you better stay where I fucking put you,” he said. There was a dangerous twinkle in his eye. 

In an instant, he let go of her wrists. Michaela stayed put, her ass on the desk, her legs open, her breasts bare with her dress pulled down. She knew how she looked–disheveled and desperate–and it felt so sweet.

Patrick kept his eye on her as he slid down further. Shedding his jacket, he kneeled before her in his white dress shirt and shimmering black suspenders. Pressing his hands on the inside of her thighs, he slid his warm palms up her stockings and under the hem of her dress.

“Lift your ass,” he ordered and Michaela did. His hands cupped her ass, curved up, and grabbed the band of her panties. He pulled them down, careful not to snag her stockings, until they fell to the floor. 

No sooner had he dropped them than he traced his fingers back up her legs. Michaela’s skin trembled along the path. 

Shifting his body so her legs splayed over his shoulders, Patrick curled his arms and Michaela felt her thighs squeezed between his hands and his curling biceps. She was open to him with her legs held snug. 

Michaela didn't know what he saw when he looked up at her, but all she could imagine in her eyes was begging. The skin of her thighs tickled with his breathing. 

There was a mischievous look on his face as Patrick knew exactly where he had her. Seeing his salt and pepper hair between her legs, feeling the strength of his arms wound around her legs made her weak. Michaela could feel fingers of her wetness slip between her lips and begin to trace along to her ass.

“Please,” she said. It was all she could do to not grab his face and shove his mouth onto her clit.

“Please what, Michaela?”

“I surrender. Please lick me. Please kiss me. Please take me,” she said. The pouting was gone. She whined. She was almost hallucinating with lust. Between having a long-time fantasy come true and his skill at playing her in every way, Michaela had never been more aroused.

Staying still for another moment, looking up at her. Unable to control herself, Michaela stretched her legs open and shifted her ass to inch closer. With a teasing grin and a warming exhale, he leaned in and kissed her dripping lips. Despite biting her lip, a scream still tore from Michaela’s lips that could be heard down the hall outside. 

Feeling his firm, soft, searching lips against her wet folds, his nose touching her clit, Michaela brought her hand to her mouth and bit the heel of her palm. Finally losing all control she slid her other hand into his hair, feeling the remnants of his hair product from his morning grooming crunch between her fingers and she pulled him towards her need. 

Patrick took the hint and opened his lips around her clit. Michaela felt his chin slide between the folds of her pussy lips and his tongue feather her pearl from one side then the other. Her eyes shut at the pleasure. She went from wanting to scream to just needing to breathe. 

She became so tense from the winding pleasure now she could not have screamed to save her life. 

Lapping her bud back and forth with the perfect pressure, Michaela could almost believe she had never been licked before. Patrick was so good at giving her pussy what it needed, so skilled at playing her clit, it was as if no one had yet really gone down on her.

She was not the kind of girl who gets with other girls, but for a moment Michaela wondered if he gave head like a lesbian it was so fucking good. Less than a minute after he first pressed his mouth to her, Michaela felt all of the anticipation, all of her arousal and lust, all of his perfect masculine energy and soft talents wind around her tight and burst as she began to come.

Michaela felt the walls of her pussy clench and release, with such a sweet and perfect pressure she was sure she’d have shoved his cock out if it were buried in her. The muscles of her thighs began to quiver uncontrollably and Michaela felt her pelvis tighten and tremble as if a fist were inside squeezing every wonderful feeling in the world from her blood and nerves. Her head smacked the wall as she involuntarily fell back from the strength of the pleasure.

Even here Patrick was perfect. Michaela felt his arms still strong around her thighs, but his mouth pulled off just as the sensation hit its peak. He knew exactly when to quit and let the chain reaction of released nerves and wonderful spasms shock and ricochet through her body. Michaela sucked in air, panting out her joy. Just feeling her lungs expand and empty felt good. The orgasm was so hard Michaela could even feel it radiate through her scalp and into her hair.

The shock was so wide and full Michaela could not make a sound but for her panting. She was usually a screamer, but now her cries were strangled in her throat. Michaela could do nothing but hang on and feel it rush through her.

After long, quiet moments, she felt herself returning to normal. An astonished smile broke across her lips. Looking down at him, Michaela saw his face raised up, watching her. At that moment Michaela loved this man, and would do anything for him.