Lauren's Wedding Night With Father In Law

The heavy bass from the band’s final slow song still throbbed in Lauren’s veins as the last guests trickled out of the ballroom. She stood near the marble pillar in her lace wedding gown, the delicate veil brushing her bare shoulders, when Marcus approached.

He was everything Ethan wasn’t. Late forties, broad through the chest and shoulders, silver threading the dark hair at his temples. His tuxedo looked like it had been cut for a man who knew exactly how to wear power. When those steel-gray eyes locked on her, Lauren felt the air change.

“Finally got you alone, Mrs. Caldwell,” he said, voice low and rough like gravel under tires. He didn’t ask. He simply slid one big hand around her waist and pulled her into the slow sway of the music. The scent of his cologne—something dark, woody, expensive—flooded her senses.

“Mr. Caldwell,” she answered, trying for polite. Her new husband’s father. The words felt ridiculous in her mouth.

“Marcus.” His palm settled possessively at the small of her back, fingers splayed wide. The heat of him burned straight through the satin and lace. “You’re stunning, Lauren. But you already know that. What I’m wondering is whether my son knows what to do with a woman like you.”

She should have pulled away. Instead her breath caught.

His mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “You deserve a real man on your wedding night. Not some clumsy boy who’s still learning where everything goes.”

His hand drifted lower, thumb stroking the top curve of her ass. The bold claim sent a hot pulse between her legs. Across the room, Ethan was laughing too loud with his college buddies, already half-drunk and oblivious.

Marcus’s grip tightened. “Think about it.”

Then he was gone, melting back into the crowd like smoke.

---

The honeymoon suite smelled of roses and champagne. Ethan had managed to carry her over the threshold, tripped on the rug, and immediately collapsed face-first onto the king-sized bed still fully dressed. His snoring started within minutes.

Lauren stood at the balcony doors in her gown, staring at the ocean, skin still buzzing from Marcus’s touch. The ache between her thighs had only grown. Ethan’s fumbling fingers earlier in the limo had left her frustrated, not satisfied.