The Best Man | Part 22: Last Night in the Suite (Patreon)

All characters depicted in this story are fictional and 18 years of age or older. Everything portrayed is safe, sane, and consensual.

The suite door shut behind us with a heavy click, muffling the noise of the wedding still drifting faintly from the garden below. For the first time all day, silence wrapped itself around me; thick, charged, the kind that makes you suddenly aware of every breath, every heartbeat.

I leaned back against the door, letting out a low laugh. “Nathan actually cried. Full-on, like… hiccup crying.”

Calvin tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, his tie hanging loose around his neck. He smirked, running a hand through his hair so it stood in easy disarray. “You’re one to talk. You almost lost it during your speech.”

“I didn’t.” I straightened, frowning.

He arched a brow. “You choked so hard on the ‘Olivia is perfect’ line, I thought you were gonna sprint out of there.”

Heat rose up my neck, part embarrassment, part the way his grin made my chest tighten. “I was just… happy.”

“Mhm.” He tugged his shirt free from his waistband, letting it fall loose. “Sure. Not because you had a certain someone watching you the whole time.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he drawled, stepping closer, “here we are. Alone. Last night in the suite.”

The way he said it made the words heavy, ripe with promise. I tried to brush past him, heading toward the window where the moonlight bled into the horizon, but his presence followed, magnetic.

“Don’t,” I said, half-laughing, half-serious. “You’re gonna make it sound like we’re the ones on a honeymoon.”

He stopped just behind me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off his chest, the faint brush of his breath on my neck. “Aren’t we?” His voice dipped, teasing, rough. “Feels like it. Ceremony, dancing, sparklers, a getaway car. The only thing missing…” His lips ghosted so close to my ear I shivered. “…is the wedding night fuck.”

“Calvin,” I warned, but my voice cracked on his name.

His laugh was low, wicked. “See? You want it too.”

I turned sharply, meaning to shove him away, but my hands landed on his chest instead…broad, firm, the heat of him soaking into my palms. His shirt was still half-buttoned, collar gaping to reveal the line of his throat. My eyes betrayed me, darting there, to the faint shadow of the hickey I’d left the night before, half-hidden beneath makeup.

“You covered it well,” he said softly, following my gaze. “But I still know it’s there.”

Something in my stomach flipped. My fingers curled against his shirt, wrinkling the fabric. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stalling.” His hand slid down, brushing my wrist, my knuckles, until his fingers threaded between mine. He squeezed once, grounding, then tugged gently, pulling me toward the bed.

I resisted only long enough to prove I could. Then I let him lead me.

The bedspread was still crisp, untouched since we’d left that morning, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Calvin sat first, dragging me down with him until I straddled his thighs. The movement was natural, fluid, like we’d rehearsed it a thousand times.

“God,” he said, eyes raking over me, hungry. “You looked good tonight. Suit, tie, hair all neat. Could barely keep my hands off you at the reception.”

“You did keep your hands off,” I shot back, breath uneven. “Mostly.”

“Only because I knew I’d have you now.” His hands slid up my sides, palms warm through the fabric of my shirt. “Knew I’d get to ruin all of this.”

He tugged at my tie until it slipped loose, tossing it aside carelessly. His fingers moved to my buttons, slow, deliberate, each one undone with infuriating patience.

“Calvin…”

He hummed, leaning forward to press his mouth against my neck, right where the makeup had barely covered his earlier claim. His tongue flicked, tasting, before his teeth closed just hard enough to make me gasp.

I grabbed his shoulders, nails digging through the thin fabric. “There are people outside. They might hear—”

“Let them,” he murmured against my skin, already moving lower. “Let them wonder why the best man and the groom’s brother didn’t come down for a nightcap.”

My laugh broke into a moan as his teeth grazed my collarbone. He pushed my shirt off my shoulders, fingers trailing down my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. By the time the fabric hit the floor, I was already arching into him, restless, needy.

He leaned back slightly, studying me with maddening calm. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to cover the way my face burned. “Shut up.”

“Not a chance.” His thumb brushed across my lower lip, and before I could respond, he kissed me…hard, deep and claiming. I melted into it, into the way his tongue slid against mine, the way he tilted his head just enough to take more.

When he finally pulled back, I was breathless. “Fuck,” I whispered.

“Not yet,” he smirked. “Foreplay first. It’s our honeymoon, remember?”

I wanted to hit him, to tell him to stop being an ass. But then his hands were on my hips, dragging me forward, grinding me down against the solid line of his cock beneath his slacks. The friction tore a sound from my throat I couldn’t smother.“Mhmm fuck”, I moaned.

His grin widened. “There it is. That’s the sound I wanted.”

I bit my lip, trying to stifle it again, but he caught my chin, tilting my head so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Don’t hide from me. Not tonight.”

His tone left no room for argument. My chest heaved, and I gave in, rocking against him, letting the rhythm take me. Each drag of friction wound me tighter, heat curling low in my stomach.

He moved too, hips lifting to meet mine, his breath growing ragged, his hands gripping me harder like he couldn’t get close enough. We lost track of rhythm, lost track of everything except each other.

By the time he flipped us, laying me back on the sheets and bracing himself above me, my body was already buzzing, desperate. He kissed down my chest, pausing at every sensitive spot like he knew the map of me by heart. His mouth left trails of heat, his tongue circling, teeth nipping, until I was writhing beneath him, begging without words.

When his fingers brushed the waistband of my slacks, I barely managed a nod before he undid them, dragging fabric down my legs in one smooth pull. I kicked them off blindly, already reaching for him again.

He caught my wrists, pinning them lightly to the bedspread. “Not yet,” he whispered, eyes dark. “I’m not done tasting.”

And then his mouth was on me again, lower this time, slower, deliberate. Each touch, each kiss, each scrape of his teeth was enough to undo me. I arched, moaned, gasped his name like it was the only word I remembered.

He chuckled against my skin, the vibration shooting through me. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “That’s it. Give me everything.”

I did. I couldn’t hold back if I tried.I barely had time to catch my breath before his hands slid under my thighs, nudging, urging.

“Turn over,” Calvin rasped.

The command shot straight through me. My body moved before my brain caught up, flipping onto my stomach, my chest pressed to the cool sheets. My breath shuddered out, anticipation buzzing low in my belly.

Behind me, I heard the rustle of fabric, the drag of buttons, the low curse under his breath as he stripped. I risked a glance back just in time to see him step off the bed, peeling his shirt away, shoulders broad and gleaming in the soft lamplight. His slacks dropped next, followed by his underwear, his cock already thick and hard, standing proud.

He caught me watching, smirked. “Like what you see, Masey?”

I bit the sheet, heat crawling up my neck. “Fuckkk.”

He laughed, low and wicked, then climbed back onto the mattress, settling behind me. His weight dipped the bed, his warmth spreading until it was all around me.

His hands parted my ass, firm and unyielding, exposing me to the air, to him. My breath stuttered, nerves and need tangling as I felt him lean in close.

The first touch was a drag of his beard across the swell of my ass, rough enough to make me twitch. He hummed, pleased, before pressing an open-mouthed kiss right above my hole. My body jolted.

“Fuck, Calvin—”

“Relax,” he murmured. His spit hit me a second later, hot and wet. He spread it with the flat of his tongue, slow, deliberate, before circling closer, teasing.

I groaned into the sheets, hips shifting helplessly.

He chuckled against me, the sound vibrating. “Already so eager.” His tongue darted out, a quick lick over my hole, then another, firmer. “Taste so fucking good, Masey.”

My hands fisted the sheets. “Fuck…don’t stop.”

“Oh, I wasn’t planning to.”

Then his mouth sealed over me, suck’ing hard, his tongue pushing past the tight ring of muscle. The sensation was electric, raw, pulling a strangled moan out of me before I could hold it back.

His beard scraped at the sensitive skin, just enough sting to make me gasp, just enough roughness to contrast with the wet heat of his mouth. Every flick, every thrust of his tongue made me jolt, my hips pressing back, greedy.

He groaned into me like he couldn’t get enough, like he wanted to devour me whole. His hands gripped my ass, spreading me wider, holding me open as he licked deeper, wetter, filthier.

“Fuck—Cal—” My voice broke, high and needy.

“Mm, that’s it,” he mumbled into my skin. “Say my name like that.”

I bit down hard on the pillow, eyes rolling back as he spit again, letting it drip down my crack before chasing it with his tongue.

My cock throbbed against the sheets, desperate, aching. Then his hand slid underneath me, warm and rough, wrapping around my cock from below.

“Fuck!” I moaned as he stroked me, slow and firm, in time with the relentless thrusts of his tongue in my ass.

“Mm, you’re dripping for me,” he said, voice muffled, teasing. “So fucking hard, Masey.” His fist pumped me, twisting just enough at the head to make me buck. “You gonna cum just from me eating your ass?”

My whole body trembled. “I..fuck, I might”

He growled, doubling down, tongue plunging deeper, beard scraping harder, his hand working me faster. My moans filled the suite, echoing in the quiet, shameless and raw.

Every nerve in me lit up, every muscle tight, wound. He was everywhere; his tongue, his spit, his fist jerking me. The wet sounds of him feasting on me mixed with my choked gasps was just perfect.

“Calvin…oh, god, Calvin”

He groaned like my voice alone got him off, his strokes on my cock growing rougher. His thumb smeared precum over my slit, spreading it down the shaft as his tongue circled and shoved, filthy, hungry.

I lost it. My body seized, my cock twitching hard in his grip. Cum spilled across his hand, the sheets, white-hot pleasure tearing through me in waves as his tongue never let up.

I collapsed forward, panting, trembling, my vision gone blurry.

But Calvin didn’t stop. He licked me through it, every shiver, every spasm, his hand milking me for every last drop until I was nothing but raw nerves and broken moans.

Finally, finally, he pulled back, licking his lips like he’d just eaten the best meal of his life. He kissed the small of my back, then my hip, then up my spine, lazy, smug.

“You taste even better when you’re shaking,” he whispered against my skin.

I groaned weakly, burying my face in the sheets. “You’re insane.”

He laughed, warm and rough in my ear. “And you love it.”

His hands slid up my sides, steadying, teasing. Then he shifted, pressing the length of his cock between my cheeks, grinding slow, deliberate.

“You ready for me, Masey?” he murmured. “Because that was just foreplay.”The Best Man | Part 23: Last Night - Finale