Suddenly, this wedding was looking up! It was definitely the guy from the bachelorette party - the one who they'd all thought was the stripper but turned out to be the musician. Tall and muscular, with a strong jaw and a twinkle in his eye, he really could have been the Magic Mike stand-in as easily as the Ed Sheeran.

The party had been a hit because of him, and he'd clearly had a great time being eye candy for the girls - whose subtle remarks about how fit he was had become less and less discreet over the course of the evening, inversely proportional to the levels of cocktails consumed.

She hadn't really spoken to him that night, but she'd registered his eyes on her more than once as she laughed and danced in the warm June twilight. Kate, the bride, must have liked him so much she'd rebooked him for the wedding itself.

It was a combination of alcohol and the memory of the way he'd looked at her that made her slip her petite frame onto the bar stool next to him.

"Are you on an interval, or finished? Can I buy you a drink?"

His eyes had the naughty twinkle she remembered.

"I'm finished. That'd be great, thanks - but only if the next one is on me."

They chatted easily over the drinks, the rest of the wedding party seeming to fade into the background. The talk flowed, and somehow she felt comfortable with him in a way that made it feel like more than a first date. He was married, working away from home in the week and gigging on the side. There was eye contact, casual touching, and a gradual building of awareness.

"Are you travelling home tonight?" she asked eventually, as the caterers and DJ began clearing up around them.

"No, heading back to where I work, work ready for Monday."

Suddenly, the air felt thick with anticipation and possibility.

"I...have a room here..." she said, so quietly, it was hardly more than a breath.

He grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that. Give me a guided tour?"

As she slipped off the stool, he took her hand and didn't let go as they left the bar and walked down the corridor to the lift. The doors closing on them were like the flick of a switch. Suddenly she was melting against him, his lips on hers and his tongue plundering her mouth hungrily. The height difference meant that he was leaning over her, his hand on the back of her neck, and she was suddenly dizzy with the force of her need for him.

He didn't stop when the doors opened, backing her along the landing, his leg between hers, pressuring her in the place she most needed it. She broke away just long enough to check the door number and insert the key card, then they were in the room and she was lying, fully clothed, on the made-up bed, looking up at him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes on hers.

"Fuck, yes," she replied, with no hesitation.

This time when his tongue invaded her mouth, his warm hand slid up her thigh. He growled his appreciation for the stockings, the bare skin above them, and stroked his fingers over the silk and lace, delving straight between her legs.

"Christ, you're soaked already," he murmured against her parted lips. In response, she opened her thighs further for him, and he increased the pressure of his palm against her sex until she whimpered, desperate for more.

"Tell me what you want," he commanded.

"Inside...please?" she begged, writhing against him.

She almost came the instant his thick finger found its way under her panties and pushed into her tight passage, stroking and exploring firmly, pressing deeper while she ground onto him. When he slid it back out, she moaned in protest, but he went straight to her clit, rubbing with sure strokes until she couldn't fight the gathering tension anymore and came, wordlessly, clinging to him and burying her head into his chest.

He didn't let her recover but moved back into her throbbing pussy immediately. This time the feeling was different, and as he rotated his hand, she realised it was his thumb inside her. Thicker than his finger, it searched out that soft, giving spot on the front wall of her passage, right behind her clit, rubbing, stroking, pressing. The feeling was exquisite, almost verging on pain, and she clenched involuntarily, suddenly feeling a gush of liquid release, soaking his hand as she groaned deeply.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him to see him smiling.

"Fuck, that was hot. I need to be inside you now."

"Yes, please," she breathed, still shuddering from her total loss of control.

He pulled her dress over her head as she removed her now-sodden panties, and then her bra.

"Keep the stockings on," he demanded, and she nodded demurely.

He stripped quickly while she watched, admiring his build, and biting her lip slightly as she noticed the size and girth of his cock. He grinned at her expression - "Don't worry, it'll fit. You're soaked!" and then returned to her, cupping her breasts, running his tongue over her nipples, sucking, nipping until she was writhing and begging him again.

He moved over her, between her spread thighs, teasing her with just the tip.

"Please..." she moaned, unable to find any other words to express her need to feel him deep inside her, "Please?"

With that, he thrust into her, hard and deep, satisfying the ache inside her like nothing else could. He stilled for a second until she shifted her hips against him in a mute plea, and then he began to move. Slow, sure strokes built in pace until they were both panting. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling herself closer, and felt him tense for an instant before he unloaded inside her with a guttural groan.

As they lay together, breath gradually returning to normal, she said quietly, "There's something I have to ask you."

"Oh?"

"Will you play at my wedding?"