ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴡᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢ ᴡɪꜱʜᴇꜱ ✦ reverie. + father figure

[reverie.]

. A N D R E W  M I L L E R F A T H E R  O F  T H E  G R O O M​      . R E B E C C A  L A W R E N C E M A I D  O F  H O N O R​

 

[reverie.]

. R E B E C C A  L A W R E N C E M A I D  O F  H O N O R​

The wedding was slowly coming to an end, and although it had been a beautiful day, Rebecca couldn't wait to lock herself in her hotel room upstairs. But that wasn't where she was headed during the dinner break. No, the bride - her best friend - had asked her to go up to the bridal suite to grab a few hair pins from her toiletry bag so she didn't risk her bun falling out. Becca had told her she'd be right back. It was just a few floors up anyway and the elevator was right there. She pushed the button, waited a few seconds, and stepped inside. The brunette was almost too busy correcting the neckline of her dress to notice that someone had stepped into the elevator with her. She glanced sideways and gave the father of the groom a faint but polite smile. "You heading up as well?" she asked, nodding towards the panel where she'd pushed the button in case he was going to a different floor. Rebecca let her hands drop to her sides, but let her gaze remain on him. It wasn't hard to tell that he was the father of the groom; they looked so similar. The only difference was that Andrew was twice as old. They were both good-looking men, Andrew even more so with his full beard and a more mature look. She'd been stealing glances at him all night, but who hadn't? They'd practically been sitting on display all day. When the elevator doors closed, she averted her gaze, suddenly more interested in the panel to her left than the man on her right.​

 

[Father Figure]

. A N D R E W  M I L L E R F A T H E R  O F  T H E  G R O O M​

Contemplative. Was that the right word for how Andrew had acted throughout the proceedings of the day? Contemplative? It did not quite seem to fit but only because there was an undercurrent of tension found in the lingering gazes exchanged between himself and Rebecca. There was certainly a small measure of appreciation, the kind of glance that recognized beauty for what it was, but there was the undeniable realization that the attraction was returned. And why would it not be? Andrew was exactly the kind of man many hoped to become. Tall, austere, dignified, and frankly virile. The quintessential modern trope of the silver fox come to life. Luckily, he had never done something so gauge as to hook up with a younger lady, thought with the way Rebecca had returned his interest that might be soon changing. Was it unintentional when he stood to leave the wedding party at the same time she did? How he had casually extricated himself from the conversation he had been in was certainly skillful, but was it purposeful? And did it matter anymore now that they were in the elevator together, alone, and he had the opportunity to consider whether he would take the chance that she shared his want? No, it did not matter in the slightest. They were away from the world, no eyes upon them, and his smooth voice replied with absolute calm surety. “Yes, I have something I need to take care of.” As he spoke, he moved closer, just the smallest motion, but enough to tell her that he was there and slightly behind. It made the elevator claustrophobic, the sensation of his massively large body, an imposing shadow cast over her. There could be no mistaking what he needed to take care of, and it started with her. Though he did not touch, not yet. ​

 

[reverie.]

. R E B E C C A  L A W R E N C E M A I D  O F  H O N O R​

She could feel him move, but didn't dare to turn her head and look where to. Did it matter where he stood in the elevator? There was plenty of room for both of them. And yet, when the doors closed she couldn't help but feel trapped. Her eyes moved to the screen above the doors as soon as the elevator started moving, and she watched the number on it climb upwards. 1. . . 2 . . Should she say anything else? Was it rude not to? He was the father of the groom, after all. She was the maid of honor. It wasn't like they had much in common outside this wedding, but surely they should be able to have a conversation without anyone else running it for them. Without moving anything but her mouth, she asked, "Did you enjoy the dinner?" She regretted it as soon as she'd said it. What a ridiculous question. She might as well have asked him if he enjoyed the fine weather. The dinner had been absolutely delicious - the dessert too. Everyone had enjoyed it. 4. . . 5. . . She should have kept her mouth shut. Stupid, stupid, stupid. For a split second, she contemplated whether or not to push another button, to make the elevator stop sooner. But that would definitely look suspicious, so she folded her arms over her stomach instead. At least he couldn't see her flushed cheeks as she waited impatiently for that number on the screen to climb all the way to 17.​

 

[Father Figure]

. A N D R E W  M I L L E R F A T H E R  O F  T H E  G R O O M​

What a simple thing it was to take charge of another human being, to push them, to press them, and some would say abuse them. It was a terribly fine line that very few could walk, and which side was this man straddling with how he was treating Rebecca? Was he a man threatening her with danger if he did not have what he wanted? Or was he the man who was recognizing her simple need for someone to come along and touch her, show her how incredibly she was hungered for? Frankly, Andrew was both. Both predator and paramour, perfectly poised a mere few inches from her so that she knew what he spoke of was her. It was as if in the silence of the elevator they could hear each other's heart, finding rhythm with one another as if they shared a single synchronous beat. Breathing growing deeper, as if lulled into lust. Maybe it was simple projection on his part, fanciful dreams of an older man. The dream became reality though as he reached past her and hit the emergency stop, the alarm ringing as the elevator came to a halt in between floors. They had such little time. Time ill spent as his other hand found her rear, giving a deep hard squeeze as he moved closer, not even bothering to hide his intention when he had her alone. His voice was quiet in her ear as he spoke. "You don't have to turn around; you don't have to say anything. You can start the elevator again and let it keep going and I'll go on back to the party. Or you can stand still, and not do anything, and that will be all the answer I need…"​

 

[reverie.]

. R E B E C C A  L A W R E N C E M A I D  O F  H O N O R​

Panic surged through her body when the elevator suddenly stopped, and for a brief moment she actually thought something was wrong. But when she felt a hand giving her butt a hard squeeze, she knew the elevator was in perfect condition. Rebecca stood frozen, holding her breath while Andrew whispered instructions in her ear. She didn't dare turn around or even look; she knew what - who - she would find. Her eyes were glued on the elevator doors she knew wouldn't open anytime soon. Even if he allowed her to start the elevator again, to push that little button, she didn't know if she could. Or perhaps the real question was whether or not she wanted to. Her arms were still folded over her stomach, almost clutching it. What the fuck was she supposed to do? The right thing to do would be to push the goddamn button, but— She stood still. She said nothing. Did nothing. That was the answer she gave him, despite all the voices in her head screaming at her to move, to push the button, to do something. If she didn't push that button, God knew what would happen - what he would do. Did she want him to do anything? At this point, Rebecca wasn't sure what she wanted. She couldn't even think straight. All she could focus on was the hand Andrew still had on her butt and his hot breath against the side of her neck. Perhaps a part of her wanted him even closer.​

 

[Father Figure]

. A N D R E W  M I L L E R F A T H E R  O F  T H E  G R O O M​

Panic was not the emotion manifesting in the older man standing behind her, catching the smallest hints of Rebecca's reflection in the metal of the elevator panel. No, it was exultation. The sheer fact that the young woman had not moved away from him, had not denied him. She might be frozen like a deer in headlights, even terrified, but that was enough of a concession to him that he accepted it as absolute verbal confirmation. She could hear the sound of approval, even if he did not bother saying a single word, it was there in the measure of his breathing. The slow exhale that blew warm air across her ear and throat, the way his head turned towards the crook of her neck, and she could feel the roughness of his beard tickle her skin. What kind of man was he that he would put her in this position, force her to make an untenable choice? Apparently, the kind of man whose hand was giving her ass a firm and steady squeeze of absolute appreciation. Goddamn, he was already so hard, he could have fucked her here. But he knew that would draw too much attention. He moved closer now, bridging what little gap remained between them, and his hand moved off her rear to allow something else to take its place. Fingers gripped her waist and tugged her back against him so that he could grind, the thick heavy feel of his cock through the suit that he wore, the sensation of her backside through the fabric of her beautiful dress. It nearly made him cum. His lips planted a small kiss to the side of her jaw as his hips began to rock and he whispered. "Take me to your room."​

 

[reverie.]

. R E B E C C A  L A W R E N C E M A I D  O F  H O N O R​

Rebecca could feel him grinding his erection against her butt - maybe she even helped a little. The fabric of his suit and her dress still separated them, but oh, she wanted to feel that cock between her cheeks. Her core tingled with arousal as he pushed her closer. She strutted her ass, grinding herself against him just like he did against her. Her head tilted to the side, giving him better access to the sensitive skin there. She didn't bother to hide her heavy breathing; she could hear his breaths were heavy too. When he whispered a new instruction in her ear, she stretched her arm out to push the button - the button she should have pushed earlier. But as the elevator started moving again, she couldn't help but wonder if she should push another button. She wasn't on her way to her room, so should she tell him to wait? By the hardness of his cock, she'd bet he couldn't. She watched the number climb higher. 11. . . 12. . . They had passed her floor. Perhaps she should just call it off. That would have been the right thing to do. But when the elevator doors finally opened, Rebecca still hadn't made up her mind, so she panicked. As if he'd burned her, she freed herself from his grip and moved quickly out of the elevator. In the hallway, she turned slightly towards him with her cheeks flushed and an apologetic look on her face - it was obvious that she didn't know what she was doing - "This is me." It was hard to tell if it was an invitation or a rejection. The poor girl didn't even know which it was.​

 

[Father Figure]

. A N D R E W  M I L L E R F A T H E R  O F  T H E  G R O O M​

How goddamned delicious she was. There was a reason that older men went for young women, and it was simply put that they could be easily impressed. Discard all the cynicism and jadedness of some old shrew, focus your sights on a young lady with sparkles in her eyes, and you could feel like a million bucks. No, even better, you could feel quite simply like a God. At least that was how she made him feel as he pressed close, the heat rising between them, an almost humid sensation which made the suit jacket he wore terribly uncomfortable. What he would have given to have pushed that dress up, end what separated them, and grip one of her pert ass cheeks possessively. But he had to play it cool, had to let her take some of the lead. There was a fine line he was walking, and he was poised precariously between falling somewhere between making himself an abuser or a wild story the girl would tell her friends a few years from now. But the elevator began moving again and he paused what he was doing just in case someone was on the other side of the doors when it came to a halt. Which worked just well as the little young doe fled from his touch as soon as the doors opened, and they were left standing awkwardly as Rebecca tried to make up her mind on what to say. And when she finally settled on it he smirked, his hand coming out to brush hers, and he leaned close to peer into her eyes. “Me too,” he whispered. There was no need to articulate the rest of the sentence. Lead the way.​

 

[reverie.]

. R E B E C C A  L A W R E N C E M A I D  O F  H O N O R​

Her heart skipped a beat when Andrew stepped out of the elevator as well, even though she knew there was a chance - a big chance - that he would. Hadn't she just agreed to take him to her room? Not with her words perhaps, but she'd agreed nonetheless. The only problem was that they were nowhere near her room, and probably far from his room as well. She didn't move as he closed the distance she had put between them and looked up into his eyes with something that resembled fear. But it wasn't just fear glittering in her eyes, but lust. Perhaps she wanted this more than she was willing to admit, despite how fucked up it was. The corner of her lips curled as she nodded once as if to let him know that she understood. Rebecca swallowed hard before she turned on her heel to head down the corridor. She followed the directions to room number 1723, well aware that this was not her room but the fucking bridal suite. Her hand reached for her small purse and she pulled out the key card that the bride had given her. She hesitated, staring at the handle as if debating whether to open the door or not. Whatever he was planning, this might not be the best place to do it. "Perhaps you should just wait out here," she muttered. Her voice was so low it almost sounded like she was afraid to suggest it, but if he joined her. . . chances were they were going to make a mess. And considering this wasn't even her room, what choice did she have? If they messed up this suite, she didn't know if she'd be able to live with herself. She could always suggest they stop by her room afterward though, couldn't she? It was just a few floors down. Rebecca could feel his presence behind her, but she was too afraid to turn around. "This isn't my room," she suddenly admitted, her voice barely a whisper. She was still facing the door, still clutching the key card in her right hand. Her heart pounded in her chest and while there was a part of her that was reluctant to open the door, another part was screaming at her to get to it. ​

 

[Father Figure]

. A N D R E W  M I L L E R F A T H E R  O F  T H E  G R O O M​

It was not as if he did not realize where they were going. He was, after all, the father of the groom and he had run required errands to the bridal suite itself before. But when she spoke it took all he had not to give a little laugh, not wanting to embarrass the young woman more than she already was. Recognition of why what she said was so humorous would not take long to settle in after he raised one eyebrow at her in response to her statement. But the real response came when he reached out and touched her hand holding the card, caressing his strong fingertips over her soft skin, before guiding her to place it against the magnetic lock. Whirr, snick, went the electronics and the light on the lock flickered from red to green. The nearness of him was practically suffocating, how close he was now, his hot breath brushing across her neck and ruffling her hair. There was a moment where it felt like they were on a precipice, ready to do something absolutely stupid, a precarious uncertainty taking over and leaving a feeling in their stomach of queasy butterflies. But then it past as his own fingers touched the door handle, opening it to the slightly dim room, and there was no longer any decision-making being left to Rebecca. Andrew had chosen the course of their lives, or at least this small part of it, and as the door opened, she could feel his hand touch her hip and he guided her into the room. In other circles it might have been considered a push, but did she really object to what he did? And once they were within that small foyer, his foot came back and kicked the door closed, and there was no need for pretense any longer. A hand pressed Rebecca against the wall, facing away from him, and fingers gripped the edge of her dress to shove it upwards. Andrew wanted ass, wanted to feel her firm cheeks in his hands, and he seemed marginally content once he was cupping them without the impediment of her clothing in the way. His voice hissed in her ear, a soft dangerous noise of hunger in his throat. “I’d say tell me you want this, but you don’t have to say a damned thing, I know you do.”​

 

[reverie.]

. R E B E C C A  L A W R E N C E M A I D  O F  H O N O R​

She didn't know what she had expected him to do. Perhaps agree to wait in the hall, or excuse himself and head downstairs. He probably should have. He was so fucking close, and yet Rebecca wanted him closer. They really shouldn't be up here, and definitely not together. But she made no objections as he guided her hand to the magnetic lock on the door. She made no objections when he guided her - pushed her, really - into the room. And she made no objections when he pressed her body against the wall, only a whimper. Rebecca's facial cheek was pressed against the wall while Andrew pulled her dress up to her waist, revealing a white lace thong and two rounded buttcheeks. Another whimper escaped her lips as he cupped them. Fuck. She kept her eyes closed for a few seconds, just taking in how surprisingly good it felt to have his hands touching her bare skin. Did she want this? Yes. Should she want this? No. . . . But did she tell him to stop? Of course not. "I do," she admitted softly, pressing her butt against his hands as if giving him permission to do what he wanted with it. She longed for his touch. And her body responded so well to it. Her panties were already damp and her core was tingling with arousal. Whatever he was planning to do, she was ready for it.​

 

[Father Figure]

. A N D R E W  M I L L E R F A T H E R  O F  T H E  G R O O M​

There was no stopping him now. The drive for more was too intense, too problematic, for him to ever ignore. He had to have more of Rebecca, but was he willing to push the envelope to take what he wanted from her? The tension of the moment was palpable as his hands dug into the soft globes of her amazing rear, tightening with a determined hunger, but then she gave her affirmation and while the grip upon her did not ease the tension ebbed. I do, she had said, and that was all the older man required to pressed near and kiss along the edge of her throat with slow adoration, his beard tickling across her skin as he moved down to one slim shoulder. The door was shut, there was no need to even act like they were not about to engage in carnal acts, but the only question that remained was how fast they were going to take such a coupling. They could be interrupted at any moment, some other errand being required by the bride, but if they were lucky enough, they would have several minutes to pursue satisfaction. The hands on Rebecca's rear end adjusted themselves, one leaving long enough to touch himself, and then she heard a sound that ensured she knew they were not turning back. The sound of a zipper. With a sigh Andrew pulled himself free, that massive prick pulsing already with need, and he pressed up under Rebecca's dress to slide between her thighs. Panties were in the way, but that soon disappeared as a rough hand jerked them to the side and he was able to brush the flared head of his cock along the sweet folds of the young woman's labia. A soft groan left his throat as his hands took hold of her waist, keeping her still as he rocked back and forth repeatedly. This was exactly what he needed. His next words were low, lulling, and seductive. "You are so, goddamn, absolutely, perfect."​

 

[reverie.]

. R E B E C C A  L A W R E N C E M A I D  O F  H O N O R​

Rebecca kept her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck that welcomed every single kiss. His lips felt like feathers against her skin, and the way his beard tickled her served as a constant reminder of where he had been and where he was headed. God, she wanted him everywhere at once. She had already given him permission to proceed with whatever it was he was planning; a part of her dying to find out what it was while the other part sort of already knew. But even so, when she heard him pull down his zipper, her heart skipped a beat and she found herself breathing faster. It wasn't like she had expected him to fuck her with his pants on, but hearing the sound of the zipper somehow made the situation more real. Like, this was actually happening. And Rebecca had absolutely no intentions of stopping it. She shivered when she felt his cock between her legs, his head separating her wet folds. A soft moan escaped her lips, revealing exactly how she felt about it. It felt so fucking good. And if he hadn't grabbed her by the hips to hold her still, she would have desperately tried to meet his thrusts. Instead, she arched her back a little to stick her ass out - it seemed to do the trick. Because holy shit, she could not get enough of his cock. It slid so easily back and forth between her folds, her juices coating his entire length. The way she moaned against the wallpaper could have fooled anyone into thinking he was already inside of her. "Oh my God," she breathed. She never wanted this to end, she only wanted more. "I want you." There was no reason to lie. She had wanted this for a while now - had dreamt about it a couple of times too - but this was so much better than she could have ever imagined. ​

 

[Father Figure]

. A N D R E W  M I L L E R F A T H E R  O F  T H E  G R O O M​

Want for each other was something that they both seemed to share, though for the beautiful Rebecca the proof came in a decidedly physical manner. The hard shaft that ground against her, pressing up so that every movement took his head along the slick folds of her labia and up to brush across her clitoris. It was the kind of action that only an older man utterly understood. Some younger man would have already attempted to penetrate her, would have already shoved as much of their prick inside of her. But this man, even with time becoming a limiting factor in their engagement, was purposefully ensuring her arousal was just as immense as his own. Figuratively. But even while her ass was absolutely amazing and his hands could not get enough of it, he wanted to see her. He wanted to look right into her beautiful eyes. There was only the hairsbreadth of a moment between her facing the wall, and her facing him, the strong hands on her hips guiding her so that they were face to face. Gazing up at him she could see his handsome face, the well-kept beard greying all over, salt and pepper distinguished upon his features. His lips moved into a smirk, teeth catching his lower lip just slightly before he leaned in and brushed his nose across hers. And then he kissed her. Slow and determined as his hips moved forward so that he still pressed between her thighs, grinding upwards in a manner that might have led to penetration if he wished it. Penetration still occurred though as his tongue slid within her mouth, taunting her lips open, a practiced experienced motion of a man who intended to take her breath away. Was he successful? If not for her, then for himself, for when that kiss broke his eyes were dilated with the arousal he was experiencing. His head tilted forward, coming to rest against hers, as he whispered with hungry need. "Kneel down for me."​