The Wedding Sexcapades: The Bride I

Athena

In less than twenty four hours I would walk down an aisle and marry a man I had never even met, all so two bitter families could finally stop bleeding each other dry.

I was the scapegoat. And tonight, trapped in a club while my bridesmaids screamed and danced and toasted,all I felt was the walls closing in.

I drank until the lights smeared. It didn’t numb the dread. It just made my cunt ache.

I needed to come. 

I slipped out of the club, leaving the noise and the false congratulations behind, and headed straight back to the hotel where the entire wedding party was staying. 

I was going back to my suite to use every toy in my bag until I couldn't feel the panic in my chest.

The hotel lobby was quiet. The elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside, hit the button for my floor, and the second the doors sealed I was done waiting.

In the elevator I hit my floor, and the second the doors sealed I shoved my hand under my dress, I had no panties on. Two fingers found my clit already slick and I rubbed. Soft wet sounds filled the space. I was so close—

Then the elevator chimed and its doors opened. 

I froze, fingers still pressed hard against my dripping cunt, dress hiked up. For one stupid second I just stared. Then I yanked my hand out, smoothed the fabric down with shaky fingers, and tried to look like I hadn’t just been caught touching myself in a public elevator.

He stepped into the elevator with no expression at all, his broad frame immediately occupying the small space. 

He had a sharp, low-buzz cut and a thick, perfectly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard framing his jawline. 

He was dressed casually in grey joggers that hung low on his hips and a plain white t-shirt that stretched tight over a massive, solid chest and thick, veiny biceps.

 He looked like he was in his late fifties. The kind of man who looked like he fucked like he had nothing left to prove and everything to take.

My clit throbbed so hard it hurt.

I had always had a thing for older men. He clicked a floor higher than mine and the doors closed. The elevator started moving.

I swallowed and gave him a small, tight smile.

He didn’t smile back.

His eyes flicked once to my hand still glistening faintly, then to my face. Just a calm assessment 

I stared at his side profile and at the way the white t-shirt clung to his biceps. At the full mouth half-hidden by that beard. At the way his tongue darted out slowly to wet his bottom lip

My nipples were diamond-hard. My cunt was pulsing, empty, furious that I had stopped.

I imagined those thick fingers replacing mine. Imagined that mouth between my legs. Imagined him bending me over right here and fucking me until I forgot my own na—

A loud clang echoed through the  elevator before it  halted with a violent screech. The lights flickered twice before they went out completely.

Only the dim emergency glow remained, painting everything in weak red.

Panic slammed into me so hard my knees nearly gave out. I hated the dark. Always had. My hand shot out blindly and grabbed the first solid thing it found—his forearm, thick and warm under the soft cotton of his sleeve.

He went still.

“Woah," his voice rumbled, deep and heavy, vibrating straight into my cheek. He was startled, but his large hands came up instinctively, resting on my lower back to steady me. "Easy. Breathe."

I didn’t care. I pressed closer, almost climbing him, heart hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears. “I can’t— I hate the dark— please—”

“Breathe. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

He pulled his phone out, flashlight on, the beam cutting through the gloom. He tried to call someone but there was no signal.

He reached over, pressing the emergency alarm button repeatedly. Nothing happened except a dull, useless buzzing sound.

"Line's dead," he muttered, turning his phone to set it on the floor, angling the light upward.

He looked down at me, his dark eyes assessing my shaking frame

“Sit,” he said quietly. He guided me down until we were both on the floor, backs against the wall, 

“Talk to me. Anything. Keep your mind off it.”

I was still shaking, but the panic was already sliding into something else; hotter, wetter. I was pressed against the most handsome older man I had ever seen, tipsy, aching, and trapped.

"I'm getting married tomorrow," I blurted out, the words spilling out of me like a broken dam.

He turned his head slightly, watching me. "Congratulations."

I laughed bitterly, my voice sounding thick. "It's an execution. My family sold me off. It’s an arranged marriage. Some political bullshit to end a war I never started. I’ve never even met him."

He didn't interrupt. He just listened, his gaze locked onto mine.

“For all I know he’s got a tiny dick and zero idea what to do with a woman who actually wants to come,” I laughed, bitter and breathless. “Talking about it is only making me worse. I’m so fucking horny I left my own bachelorette party just so I could go touch myself. I was doing it when you walked in and—”

I stopped dead. My eyes widened as the reality of what I was saying hit me. "God... I'm so sorry. You’re a complete stranger. I shouldn't be saying this."

The man didn't move. He swallowed, his throat moving heavily, his gaze dropping to my mouth before rising back to my eyes.

"Don't stop," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave

Before I could process the words, his large hands reached out. He grabbed me by my ankles, and dragged me across the floor until I was sitting directly between his crossed legs, my dress riding up to my hips.

"Why did you stop touching yourself when I walked in?" he asked, his eyes burning into mine.

I didn't answer. The filter was completely gone. I decided fuck it. Fuck the wedding, fuck the rivalry, fuck my family. If my life was ending tomorrow, I was getting what I needed tonight.

I grabbed his hands and brought them down, pressing his large palms directly onto my bare, exposed pussy.

His breath hitched sharply. His eyes left mine, trailing down to the sight of my thighs spread open for him, my pussy dripping and completely bare.

"Fuck," he whispered, the word dragged from the bottom of his chest.

Instead of stroking me, he suddenly stood up, breaking the contact. He backed away until his back hit the far wall of the elevator, his breathing heavy and uneven.

"You're marrying someone tomorrow," he gritted out, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists.

“We're trapped in an elevator," I murmured, scrambling to my feet. "Nobody knows we're here. We do this, the doors open, and we walk away into our separate lives. You never have to see me again."

I moved closer. He backed up until his shoulders hit the elevator wall. 

“I’ve fantasized about this for years. Getting fucked by an older man who knows exactly how to use a cunt. Someone who won’t treat me like glass. Someone who’ll hold me down and make me take it.”

I kissed his neck again. He grunted, deeper this time. I grabbed his hand and shoved it back between my legs so he could feel how soaked I was

He cursed under his breath. “You’re fucking soaked.”

"Fuck it," he growled..