Alarm shot through me, instantly killing the glorious, rising high. Mortified, I quickly snatched the vibrator and shoved it deep underneath the pillow. I stood up, smoothing down the lace thong that was already pressed against the dampness between my legs, and walked to the door.

I pulled it open, and there he was.

Emilio. My father-in-law.

He was wearing a pair of old, faded grey sweatpants that were doing little to hide the prominent print of his lengthy cock between his legs. The fabric was thin, stretched taut in all the most intriguing places. On top, he wore a simple white vest, the sleeves cut high, revealing the powerful curve of his shoulders and the chiseled lines of his abs.

For a man in his late forties, he was ridiculously fit. His hair was slightly wet and disheveled, probably from taking a shower, since we all lived under the same roof...which was his, of course, a huge, Mediterranean style estate, since Ethan and I got married.

I gulped down the lump in my throat, taking in the sight of him. I admitted he was usually a strikingly handsome man, with his dark, thick hair and sharp, intelligent eyes, but tonight, seeing him dressed down like this, practically radiating raw, male energy, made him look exceptionally hot and sexy.

"Mia?" I heard him call my name, his voice a low, husky rumble that pulled me out of my daydream.

I blinked rapidly. "Yes, Dad?" I responded, using the familiar term I always addressed him by. "What is it you needed?"

I noticed how his eyes flicked, slowly assessing me from head to toe. The admiration in his gaze was unmistakable, and there was absolutely no shame for meeting me still in my lingerie. His eyes lingered on the delicate lace barely covering my breasts, then trailed down to the curve of my hip before meeting my eyes again. Despite the situation and the intense heat of his gaze, I didn't feel embarrassed at all.

In fact, I rather enjoyed the attention. My own husband wouldn't give it to me.

He finally spoke, his voice a little deeper now. "Is Ethan home yet?"

"No," I said, the single word sad and heavy, as I was instantly reminded of the heart-wrenching text.

Emilio noticed my countenance. His expression softened with concern. "Hey. Are you okay? Everything fine between you two?"

I hesitated, unsure of what to say. I wasn't one to involve a third party in my marital affairs, especially not his father. But maybe, just maybe, telling him could bring about a change in Ethan's recent behavior. It was his father, after all. Who better to talk some sense into him than his own dad?

Emilio continued, his expression earnest. "You know you can confide in me, Mia. If you need to talk, I'm here."

Making up my mind, I nodded. "Okay, Dad. Thank you. Would you please wait for me in the dining room area? I'll be there in just a minute."

He obliged instantly. "Sure thing, dear. Take your time." He moved away swiftly, his gaze lingering over my figure one last time.

I walked back into the room and picked up a simple, thick, red silk robe, putting it on and cinching the belt tightly around my waist, then headed outside.

He was waiting for me, standing beside the messy dining table. The stark contrast of the elegant, ruined setting and his casual, hyper-masculine attire was jarring.

"So?" he began, pulling out a chair for me. "Tell me. What is it between you two?"

I sucked in a deep, shaky breath, the champagne's chill still present in the air. I narrated everything to him...about Ethan's late nights, his increasing lack of attention towards me, my suffocating sex starvation, and the failed anniversary dinner. The whole sad, pathetic story. He listened quietly, his dark eyes fixed on mine, nodding slowly as I spoke.

When I was done talking, there was a beat of silence that felt heavier than anything I had just said.

Then, he moved. He took a single step closer and gently touched my shoulder, his large, warm hand covering the thin silk of my robe. The physical contact, so simple, sent an unfamiliar, electric jolt through me.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Mia," he said, his voice low and sincere. Then, he leaned in, his lips close to my ear, and his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "But there's an easier way to get what you desire."

Confused, I looked up at him. "What do you mean, Dad?"

He smirked, a slow, sly, predatory curve of his lips that made my stomach clench. His eyes grew darker, a heavy, hungry shadow falling over them. He leaned in so close I could smell the sharp, clean scent of his soap and the earthy, musky cologne that clung to his skin.

"What I mean is," he said, his voice a low, gravelly promise, "I can be of help to quench your thirst. If you permit it. All you have to do is say the word, Mia. And I would take you. Right here, on this table."

I blinked, his offer slamming into me like a physical blow. The suddenness, the blatant, raw sexuality of his words, sent a shockwave through my system.

I thought of my loyalty to Ethan, my neglectful, distant husband who no longer saw me. Then I thought of the tempting, forbidden offer made by his father, a man radiating a heat I hadn't felt in years. Despite the confliction, the moral siren blaring in the back of my brain...the growing, frantic ache in my core, the unfulfilled need I had just tried to smother with a cheap toy, overruled my reasoning.

My mouth was dry. I couldn't form a complete sentence.

I met his dark gaze, which was filled with nothing but raw hunger for me, and without holding back, I muttered a single, breathless word.

"Yes."

A triumphant, dark heat flashed in his eyes. He smirked slyly, confirming my worst, most desired impulses. Then, in one swift, shockingly strong motion, he lifted me up from the chair.

My cry of surprise was cut short as he simultaneously used his free hand to sweep the remaining plates, the filled water goblets, and the entire centerpiece off the table. They crashed to the floor, the sound of breaking china loud and final.

He held me high against his chest for a brief second before gently...but possessively...placing me down onto the cleared surface of the dining table. I was now lying on my back on the cool, polished wood, my hips resting right over the scattered rose petals.

He stood between my thighs, his massive shadow enveloping me, his eyes watching me with an expression of pure, unleashed hunger.

He didn't waste another second. His large hands moved, cupping my face with surprising tenderness, the warmth of his skin radiating through my shock. He leaned in, his clean, earthy scent washing over me.

"Tonight," he rasped, his eyes dark and earnest, "I'm going to make up for every minute Ethan sexually tortured you."

His words hit me harder than the sudden, physical contact. It wasn't just about sex; it was about validation, about acknowledging the raw, gnawing emptiness I'd been carrying.

"He's a fool, Mia," Emilio continued, his voice a low, gravelly judgment. "A goddamn fool. I can't understand how a man could let a beauty like you go to waste." His thumb brushed softly, yet firmly, against the seam of my lower lip, tracing the glossy, dangerous red line. "If I was the one married to you, I wouldn't be able to stop myself. I'd be taking you all the time."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a desperate drumbeat against the cool wood of the table. The words were a challenge, an intoxicating dare that burned away the last wisps of my restraint.

I looked up at him, meeting his dark, hungry gaze with my own. The feeling wasn't shame or fear; it was a fierce, almost savage hunger.

"Prove it," I heard myself challenge him, my voice a breathless whisper, but the intent was as clear as a shout.

Before he could respond, I parted my lips and drew his thumb into my mouth, sucking on it sweetly, possessively. I swirled my tongue against the pad of his skin, my eyes locked on his. The consequences, the reality of what I was doing, what I was about to do...it didn't matter.

Not one damn bit.

A dark, dangerous sound...half growl, half triumph...tore from his throat. My brazenness had clearly pushed him over the edge.

In one swift, primal motion, he pulled my face closer and crashed his lips onto mine.

The kiss wasn't a gentle meeting; it was an act of possession, an urgent, lustful assault. His mouth molded roughly to mine, and he sucked possessively on my lower lip, then my upper, drawing me in as a starved man takes a meal. His tongue plunged in, thick and demanding, swirling fiercely against mine, biting teasingly as our mouths became a mess of hot breath and desperate need.

He devoured my gasp as he finally broke the kiss, pulling back just enough for me to see the feral glint in his eyes. I was left gasping for air, the impact and urgency of the moment leaving me dizzy.

He smirked, a slow, sly curve of his lips that was pure predatory satisfaction, and then his eyes trailed down, assessing my lace-clad body on the table.

He didn't hesitate. With a decisive tug, he roughly removed the silk robe I'd cinched around my waist, tossing it aside. I was left exposed in the delicate, flimsy red lingerie. His large hand slid down, cupping my left breast, the thin lace of the push-up bra offering no real barrier. I could feel the heat of his palm, the slight roughening of his skin.

Then, with a sudden, rough grip that caught me by surprise, he took a fistful of the lace and ripped the bra clean apart. The sound of the tearing fabric was shockingly loud, a final surrender to this forbidden night.

My bare breasts spilled out, my nipples instantly painfully hard and pointed for his ravenous glare. Under different circumstances, I knew I should be mortified, embarrassed that my father-in-law was seeing me in this state, my nakedness on full display amid the scattered wreckage of my failed anniversary.

But there was no room for shame. Instead, what coursed through me was an undeniable, white-hot hunger. I felt like a lioness, starved for the feast. I craved every bit of him...his touch, his lips, but most of all, the sight and feel of his thick, veiny cock buried deep in my wet, pink pussy.

His hand now held my breast, his touch turning momentarily gentle, caressing the soft curve of it, feeling the texture of my skin. Then, with a return to his rougher intensity, he used his thumb and index finger to pinch on my hard nipple.

A sharp, breathless moan tore from my throat.

Immediately, his mouth descended. He worked his warm, wet mouth against my peak, latching on and sucking with powerful intent, playfully biting and flicking with his tongue, a dizzying whirlwind of sensation.

At the same time, his other hand tracked the curve of my hip and reached for my core, feeling the dampness through the thong. My eyes fluttered halfway closed, lost to the feel of his tongue on my breast. I was moaning now, arching my hips off the cold wood to meet his rhythm, a plea in my movement.

He freed one nipple with a slurp, then immediately latched onto the other, sucking and biting gently, as his fingers finally found their way to the thin strip of lace. He slid my thong to the side and dipped two large, warm fingers into my dripping pussy, finding the slick, eager entrance immediately.

He began to work his fingers deep inside me, moving them with a practiced, confident rotation. I was biting my lip, my breath coming in ragged gasps, the raw pleasure an unbearable, beautiful agony.

"Please!" I begged, the word ragged and desperate. "Fuck me already! I need to feel you stretch my core."

He let go of my nipple with a final, wet sound and leaned his face close to mine, his eyes molten and dark. He smirked, a devastatingly cruel expression.

"Not yet, Mia," he promised, his voice a low, delicious threat. "It's far too soon." He watched my face as he spoke. "I need to build this up. I'm going to completely shatter you, but you have to wait for it."

The moment he said the words, the pace and intensity of his fingers inside me rocketed. He was moving them in and out with a fierce, punishing rhythm, while his thumb worked the delicate, swollen peak of my clit.

I was bucking, squirming, my toes curling so tight they ached, my hands gripping the edge of the dining table until my knuckles were white. The only sound in the room was the heavy, quickening sound of my breath and the wet, slick sound of my pussy juice on his fingers.

"Do you enjoy that, Mia?" he asked, the question clipped and commanding.

"Yes," I gasped out, breathless.

"Do you want me to do much worse things to you?"

I couldn't speak, so I could only manage a frantic nod, my lips slightly parted, my head thrown back.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice dropping another octave. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," I whispered, the word nearly drowned out by my own moans.

"I can't hear you, Mia. Say it louder. Beg for it."

The word came unbidden, a primal, shameful plea that was purely instinctual. "Yes, Daddy! Please fuck me, Daddy!"

That was the magic word. Seeing me beg, watching me shatter under his touch, fueled him.

He clenched his fingers into a rough fist and drove it in and out of me, still brushing his thumb against my clit. It was too much. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, a burning, exquisitely painful knot deep in my belly.

I threw my head back and screamed the words, "Fuck, I'm cumming!"

His face was a mask of dark, exhilarating triumph. "Don't you dare," he commanded, his voice sharp enough to cut through my climax.

"I can't take it anymore!" I cried, my body shaking violently on the table.

Then, with a vicious snap, he snatched his fingers out of me.

The sudden emptiness, the brutal, immediate absence, left me completely shattered, a wreck of unspent tension and frustration. I lay panting on the cool wood, my body humming with a frustrated, agonizing energy.

He leaned in again, his breath warm and intoxicating on my ear, and he gave me a deep, possessive kiss. "Now," he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly promise that settled deep in my core. "Now let Daddy feed you his cock."

He straightened up and, with a powerful, smooth motion, reached for the waistband of his faded grey sweatpants. He pulled them down, and as the thin fabric dropped to his ankles, I saw it.

His cock.

It was thick and veiny, already slicked at the tip with a pre-ejaculate that glistened in the soft candlelight. It was truly long, imposing....a powerful weapon of pleasure and destruction.

The sight of it sent a dizzying rush of excitement and raw terror through me. My throat constricted, and I could only gulp, my eyes wide and glued to the immense, forbidden promise now standing proudly between my spread thighs.

The waiting was over.

He didn't waste a second more. With a final push of the thin fabric with his feet, he completely pulled the grey sweats off, tossing them to the side. His powerful, muscular frame, now utterly bare and dominating, stood over me.

In one swift, surprising action, he lifted me effortlessly off the table. My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, and my legs hooked around his waist, my exposed, lace-clad body molded against his hot, hard skin.

He carried me over to a corner of the room, pressing my back against the cold wall with a soft thud. The change in temperature was shocking, but the heat radiating from his body was all-consuming. My wet, throbbing core was perfectly positioned, aimed directly at the thick, veiny length of his desire.

I had no time to prepare, no space for a breath or a thought.

There was only the brutal, glorious urgency of the moment. He didn't ask; he simply took.

In one hard, decisive thrust, he filled me up completely.

A raw, primal sound...half gasp, half triumphant "Oh God, fuck!"...tore from my throat, the impact forcing my eyes to flutter shut. The sensation of being stretched, claimed, and utterly penetrated was a surging jolt that traveled from my deepest core to the tips of my toes.

I opened my eyes a crack, looking up at his face. A slow, predatory smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, a look of ultimate victory.

"Oh no, Mia," he rumbled, his voice a dark, gravelly vibration against my ear. "God has nothing to do with this. This was all my doing."

And then he began.

He slammed hard into me again, over and over, a beast claiming its prize. The sound of our bodies connecting...my ass cheeks slapping against his muscled thighs...filled the room's space, a wet, rhythmic echo against the wall.

With each powerful thrust, I moaned loudly, clinging to him for dear life as my exposed breasts bounced and giggled right in front of his chest. I couldn't get enough, my pussy walls stretching and gripping his forbidden length with a desperate eagerness I hadn't known I possessed.

"Please, fuck me harder, Daddy! Don't stop!" I urged, sounding almost out of breath from the sheer, relentless sensation surging through me.

His movements became more intense, more relentless. My moans mixed with his deep, guttural grunts of effort and pleasure.

"Since my son won't fulfill his duties as a husband," he growled out, still slamming hard, his hips a piston against mine, "I'm more than willing to do the job for him."

His breath was hot and ragged on my neck. "You're so beautiful, Mia...so fucking sexy. Do you know how long I've waited for this moment?"

His words pierced through the haze of lust. "It was such a waste for you being married to him, when I could have you all to myself... but that changes right this moment."

A shiver of genuine, horrified excitement ran through me. Hearing him, I couldn't help but feel that everything he said was the truth. The realization hit me: I had no idea my father-in-law had been fantasizing about me, about this. I had forgotten what it felt like to be wanted, to be craved by a man, who would take me like this, ever since Ethan's consistent lack of fulfillment had starved my needs.

Now that we had both crossed the forbidden line, I wondered just how far we would eventually go in this game of illicit, burning desire.

But one thing was certain: nothing would ever be the same again between us. The thought should have terrified me, but it didn't. I honestly didn't mind it, not one bit, as long as I got to enjoy this feeling over and over again.

Just then, he stopped mid-thrust, his massive length pausing just short of fully pulling out. He adjusted his stance, a slight, almost imperceptible shift, lifting me a fraction higher against the wall, before he slammed into my very wet core again.

This time, the angle was absolute perfection.

He hit a sensitive spot deep inside me, a coil of nerves that screamed in sheer, agonizing ecstasy. "Oh! Ahhh!" I gasped, my back arching violently off the cold wall, my head thrown back in a silent shriek.

One of his hands wrapped tightly around my waist, holding me steady against the wall, locking me in place. His other hand lifted, snaking up to my head, and snagged a handful of my sweat-soaked hair, pulling it back.

It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't painful, either...just a rough, commanding grip that exposed my throat and intensified my angle on his grinding hips.

He began to thrust again, relentless, unwavering, hitting that perfect spot again, and again, and again. I was almost screaming.

"Yes! Fuck....right there Daddy! Mmmm....please don't stop!"

He leaned his face close, his breath hot and wet against my ear, the sheer power of his hips never once pausing.

"Right here?" he teased, his voice a low, challenging growl. "You want Daddy to keep fucking your sweet, dripping pussy right here?"

I couldn't mutter any coherent words. My face was a mask of undeniable, rapturous pleasure, my jaw slack, my eyes rolled back to the white ceiling. I could only manage a frantic, desperate nod, biting down hard on my bottom lip.

His thrust intensified, speeding up until I was being utterly, completely hammered against the wall. I felt so dirty, so used, but it didn't matter. This was what I desperately wanted: to be treated like a slut, to be fucked without mercy and utterly wrecked.

My lips parted, raw moans trailing out, and I felt the coiled knot of my climax tightening, approaching with every single, savage stroke.

"Are you enjoying Daddy's cock, Mia?" he asked, his voice clipped and demanding, a new depth of dominance in his tone.

"Y-yes," I managed to whisper, barely a sound.

"Will you be giving this pussy to your husband again, after I've already claimed it?"

I shook my head, but he stopped the violent rhythm just long enough to demand, "Use your words, Mia. Say it. Tell me who owns this pussy now."

The shameful, primal plea came again, the words I was desperate to give him. "Y-you."

He grunted in dissatisfaction. "I can't hear you, Mia. Say it louder."

"It's you, Daddy!" I cried, the word loud, desperate, and true. "I'm yours, Daddy! This pussy is all fucking yours!"

Satisfied with my response, he smirked and began to bang into me more violently, his pace a final, desperate race.

I whimpered, "Shit, I'm going to cum," then screamed out, "Fuck, Daddy! I'M CUMMING!"

My nails gripped and dug into his muscled shoulders as I held onto him, my head and mouth now pressed into the corner of his neck, biting gently and jerking with the impact and pleasure, my moans filling his ears.

"Yes, that's it! Cum for Daddy, cum on Daddy's cock!" he grunted, his own breathing ragged, sounding like he was about to release as well.

In one final, deep, powerful thrust, he shattered me.

My body spasmed, jerked, and trembled violently on him as the orgasm hit...a fierce, white-hot tidal wave. Simultaneously, he grunted with a raw sound of release as his hot, thick cum filled me up, the internal warmth a final, beautiful act of possession.

Our bodies heaved and panted against each other, glued together by sweat and passion. We stayed like that for a split second, both riding the intoxicating aftershocks of our shared climax.

Then, with a final, wet pop sound, his cock pulled out of me, no longer hard like it was just moments ago.

He dropped me gently down to the floor, now towering over me with his muscular frame. He used his hand to lift my face by my chin until our eyes met. His gaze was no longer feral, but soft, comforting, and deeply reassuring.

He leaned down and planted a soft, lingering kiss on my lips...a contrast to the urgent assault of his earlier kiss.

"From now on, we have each other," he whispered, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "You never have to feel alone again. Whenever you need me, my door is always open to you."

He smoothed a stray piece of hair from my cheek.

"This is our own dirty little secret to keep."

A profound sense of reassurance and a thrilling, illicit excitement warred within me. I was looking forward to everything that was to come.

I smiled a small, genuine smile up at the most dangerous, most satisfying man I had ever known and responded back to him, my voice a breathy promise.

"Yes, Daddy."