Best man's Secret: Part 2

The latch clicked shut and the room became its own closed world.

Lena stayed on the edge of the bed, watching me. The muffled noise of the party downstairs filtered through the floor—laughter, a raised voice, the thump of bass from whatever playlist someone had restarted. Up here the air felt thicker. I remained near the door with my hand still on the knob, giving her one last chance to tell me to open it again.

She didn’t.

“You’re supposed to talk me down,” she said. “Tell me Chris is a good man who made a drunken mistake and that the photo doesn’t mean anything.”

“Is that what you want to hear?”

“No.”

I crossed the room slowly and stopped in front of her. She had to tip her chin up to hold my eyes. The green dress had ridden slightly higher on her thighs when she sat. Her coat lay discarded beside her. Up close I could smell her perfume and the sharper edge of whatever she had been drinking before she drove here.

“You asked if I’ve ever wanted something I wasn’t supposed to want,” I said. “The answer’s been yes for a long time.”

Lena’s breathing changed. She reached out and hooked two fingers into the front of my belt, not pulling yet, just anchoring me in place.

“How long?”

“Long enough that standing in this room with the door closed feels like I’ve been waiting for the excuse.”

She tugged once. I stepped into the space between her knees. Her hands flattened against my stomach through the shirt, then slid higher, feeling the tension in my body. I rested my palms on the mattress on either side of her hips, caging her without touching. The position put her mouth inches from mine.

“Chris is downstairs,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“The wedding is in three days.”

“I know that too.”

“And you’re still looking at me like that.”

“Yes.”

She closed the last distance and kissed me.

It was not hesitant. Her mouth opened under mine, and the anger that had carried her through the front door redirected into pure heat. I kissed her back harder than I should have, one hand rising to cup the side of her neck. She made a soft sound into the kiss and pulled me closer by the belt until I was pressed against the edge of the bed and the soft inside of her thighs.

When we broke apart her eyes were darker.

“This is the part where the best man remembers his job and walks downstairs,” she said.

“Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

Instead of answering I kissed her again. She fell back onto the mattress and I followed, bracing my weight on one forearm. The dress shifted higher. My free hand slid along the outside of her thigh, then under the hem, finding bare skin and the thin edge of her underwear. Lena’s breath caught against my mouth. She opened her knees wider in clear permission.

I stroked her through the damp fabric. She was already wet. The discovery pulled a low sound from my chest. She reached between us, opened my belt and the button of my jeans, and shoved the zipper down far enough to get her hand inside. Her fingers wrapped around my cock and stroked once, twice, spreading the wetness at the tip.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“That’s the idea.”

She pushed my jeans lower with both hands. I shoved her dress up to her waist and dragged her underwear down one leg. The second she was open to me I rubbed the head of my cock through the slick folds of her cunt, coating myself, and looked at her for a final confirmation.

Lena locked her heels behind my thighs and pulled.

I thrust in.

The heat and tightness dragged a rough exhale from both of us. I sank to the hilt and stayed there for a second, forehead against hers, letting the reality of it settle—the locked bedroom, the party below, the bride-to-be under me with my cock buried inside her three days before the wedding. Then I started moving.

Deep, steady strokes. The mattress creaked softly. Lena bit her lower lip to keep quiet, nails digging into my shoulders through the shirt I still wore. I hooked one of her knees higher and drove into her at a sharper angle. The wet sound of my dick sliding in and out of her cunt filled the small room. Downstairs someone shouted over the music; the reminder only made her clench harder around me.

“Harder,” she whispered.

I gave her harder. The headboard tapped the wall once. I immediately adjusted, keeping the thrusts powerful but controlled, one hand braced beside her head and the other gripping her thigh. Lena’s breathing turned short and uneven. I reached between us and rubbed her clit in tight circles while I fucked her. Her back arched.

“I’m close—”

“Come on my cock.”

She did, shaking under me, her cunt pulsing in strong waves that nearly pulled me over with her. I held back by force of will and kept thrusting through it until the last tremor left her. Then I pulled out, turned her onto her hands and knees, and pushed back into her from behind in one smooth motion.

The new angle let me go deeper. I gripped her hips and fucked her with short, hard strokes while she pressed her face into the bedding to muffle the sounds. The dress was bunched around her waist. Her bare ass flexed against me with every thrust. I watched my cock disappear into her cunt over and over, slick and shining, and felt the last of any remaining restraint dissolve.

“Dylan—”

“I know.”

I reached around and found her clit again. The second orgasm hit her faster than the first. She cried out into the blanket, body locking up around my dick. The way she squeezed me dragged me past the edge. I buried myself deep and came hard, flooding her while my forehead dropped to the back of her shoulder and a low, broken sound left my throat.

We stayed joined while the pulses faded. The party noise continued below us, oblivious. Lena’s arms eventually gave out and she lowered to her elbows. I pulled out carefully. My come slid down the inside of her thighs. The sight of it on the bride-to-be’s skin three days before she was supposed to walk down the aisle felt like a permanent mark on the night.

I sat back on my heels, breathing hard. Lena rolled onto her side and looked at me with an expression that held no regret—only the same sharp intensity she had carried through the front door, now redirected.

“The wedding is still happening,” she said quietly.

“I figured.”

“And this?”

I met her eyes in the dim light of the rented bedroom.

“This isn’t finished either.”

She nodded once, as if that settled the only terms that mattered, then reached for her underwear and the discarded coat. The practical motions of putting herself back together did nothing to erase what we had just done on the guest bed while her fiancé drank downstairs with his groomsmen.

I fixed my jeans and belt. My hands were not entirely steady.

Lena stood, smoothed the dress, and checked her reflection in the dark window. When she turned back to me the anger from earlier had been replaced by something more complicated and far more dangerous.

“I’ll go down first,” she said. “Wait five minutes. Tell Chris I needed air and you talked me into going home to sleep it off.”

“And after the wedding?”

She paused at the door with her hand on the latch.

“After the wedding we decide how careful we need to be.”

Then she opened the door, stepped into the hallway, and left me alone in the room that still smelled like sex and her perfume.

The bachelor party continued below.

Three days remained until the ceremony.

And the best man’s secret had already become something neither of us intended to end with the night.