The Best Man's Wife's Secret Wedding Night Craving

The villa’s marble floors felt cool under Mia’s bare feet as she padded out of the bedroom, the silk robe whispering against her thighs. In the next room, her husband Jake snored like a chainsaw, dead drunk from the open bar and the endless toasts. She should have been disappointed. Instead, the sound only sharpened the ache between her legs.

The rehearsal dinner two nights ago had started it. Derek—tall, broad-shouldered, the best man—had looked at her like he could see straight through the thin lavender dress she’d worn. One brush of his fingers while they’d practiced the procession had left her cunt throbbing for hours. Tonight, during the reception, those same dark eyes had tracked her across the dance floor while her new brother-in-law slurred through his speech and her own husband drank himself into oblivion.

Now the rest of the wedding party was scattered across the private villas dotting the cliffside resort. Only this one—shared at the last minute because the bride’s sister and her husband needed a place to crash—held four people. Two of them were unconscious. The third was Derek’s wife, Elise, who had taken a sleeping pill and closed the door to the master suite with a polite but firm click. The fourth was Derek, standing at the wet bar in the living room with a crystal tumbler in his hand and the top three buttons of his white dress shirt undone.

Mia stopped at the edge of the lamplight. The silk robe was barely tied. She let it slip open another inch.

Derek’s gaze snapped to her. He didn’t smile. He just stared, the way a wolf stares at something it already owns.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice low and rough.

“Jake’s snoring like a freight train.” She moved closer, the robe’s belt loosening with every step until the sides parted completely, revealing the smooth, naked body underneath. Her nipples were already tight. “And I’m soaked.”

Derek’s hand tightened on the glass. “Mia.”

“I’ve been wet for you since the rehearsal,” she whispered. The confession felt filthy and perfect. “Every time you looked at me tonight I had to press my thighs together so I wouldn’t drip down my legs in front of my entire family. My husband’s in there useless, and all I can think about is how your cock would feel stretching my married pussy.”

The glass hit the bar with a heavy clink. In two strides Derek was on her. His hand wrapped around her throat—not choking, just holding, claiming—and he crushed his mouth to hers. The kiss was brutal, all teeth and tongue, the kind of kiss her husband had never given her in six years of marriage. Mia moaned into it, the sound vibrating against his palm.

He spun her, shoved her forward over the back of the wide sectional couch. The silk robe fluttered to the floor. Cool air kissed her bare ass and the slick lips of her cunt. Derek’s belt buckle clinked. The sound of his zipper was obscene in the quiet villa.

“Beg,” he growled against her ear, thick cock nudging between her cheeks.

“Please, Derek. Fuck me. I need it rough. My husband can’t give me what I want. Ruin my married pussy on my sister’s wedding night.”

He drove into her in one savage thrust.

Mia’s mouth opened on a silent scream. He was thick, long, and he didn’t give her time to adjust—just pulled back and slammed in again, hips slapping loudly against her ass. The couch creaked. She clawed at the cushions, trying to stay quiet, but every deep stroke punched a whimper out of her.

Derek clamped a big hand over her mouth, muffling her cries as he fucked her harder. The angle let him grind against that perfect spot inside her with every punishing thrust. Wet sounds filled the room—her cunt was drenched, obscene squelching noises every time he buried himself to the balls.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Take it. This is what you’ve been craving, isn’t it? Another man’s cock in your cheating little hole while your husband sleeps ten feet away.”

She nodded frantically against his palm, eyes rolling back. The orgasm was already coiling tight and vicious. Derek felt it, felt her walls flutter and clamp, and he only fucked her faster, hips snapping with raw power.

He pulled out suddenly, leaving her empty and gasping. Before she could protest he flipped her onto her back on the couch, shoved her thighs wide apart, and drove back inside in a single brutal stroke. Missionary now, face to face, his weight pinning her down as he railed her with deep, savage thrusts that made her tits bounce.

Mia’s nails raked down his back, shredding the fine fabric of his shirt. “Harder. God, please—fuck me like you own me.”

Derek’s hand returned to her throat, squeezing just enough to make her vision spark. His other hand gripped her hip, holding her in place while he pounded her married cunt without mercy. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed obscenely. Her swollen clit dragged against his pelvis with every grind, pushing her closer, closer—

“Cum inside me,” she begged, voice hoarse. “Fill me. I want to feel you leaking out of me when I crawl back into bed with him.”

Derek’s rhythm faltered, turned feral. He dropped his forehead to hers, staring into her eyes as he fucked her with short, devastating strokes.

“Take it, then. Take every fucking drop.”

He buried himself to the hilt and came.

Mia felt the first hot pulse and shattered. Her walls clamped down around his pulsing cock, milking him greedily as her orgasm ripped through her. She sank her teeth into the thick muscle of his shoulder to keep from screaming, tasting salt and the faint metallic tang of his skin. Derek groaned low and long, hips jerking as he emptied himself deep inside her spasming pussy.

For a long moment they stayed locked together, panting, trembling. His cock gave one last heavy throb, flooding her with the final thick rope of cum.

Then he pulled out.

Mia lay there, legs still spread obscenely, chest heaving. Derek sat back on his heels and watched as his creamy load began to drip from her swollen, well-fucked cunt. Pearly white cum trickled slowly from her pink, puffy lips, sliding down over her asshole to stain the couch cushion beneath her. The sight was so filthy, so perfect, that her pussy clenched again, pushing out another slow dribble.

She reached down, dragged two fingers through the mess, and brought them to her lips, sucking them clean while she stared at him.

“Fuck,” she breathed, voice wrecked. “Thank you. That’s the roughest, best wedding-night fuck I’ve ever had. My husband’s never come close.”

Derek’s cock twitched at her words, already half-hard again.

Mia sat up on shaky legs. Cum ran down her inner thigh as she retrieved her silk robe and slipped it on, not bothering to tie it. She stepped close, grabbed the back of his neck, and kissed him—deep, hungry, tasting herself and him and pure sin.

Then she pulled away, gave him one last wicked smile, and padded silently back toward the bedroom where her husband still snored, oblivious.

Derek stayed on his knees, watching the sway of her ass and the shine of his cum on her thighs until she disappeared.

He already knew this was only the beginning.