Why did Emma have to be my brother's new step daughter? Why couldn't she have been a guest or the help for fuck's sake? Anything but the daughter of the groom, my own brother.

And why, why does she have to be so fucking beautiful? So curvy and tempting. With her pouty lips and big blue eyes, she was every man's fantasy come to life. My fantasy come to life. I can't stop thinking about the sweet taste of her, the way her pussy gripped my cock like a vice.

I want her again. I need her again. But how can I have her when she's practically family now? How can I take her, claim her, make her mine when she's off-limits in every possible way? Archer would kill me if he knew what I did to her—defiled his soon-to-be stepdaughter.

I've always been the family fuck up and this would cement things in Archer's mind that I haven't changed. That I'll never change. And maybe I don't want to. Maybe I like being the black sheep, the wild child. The one who breaks the rules and doesn't give a fuck about the consequences.

I should walk away. Let her be. Leave her alone and try to forget about the one night we shared. That's what she wants, isn't it? But I'm a selfish bastard and I can't let her go. Not yet. Not until I've tasted her one more time.

My cock is still hard from meeting her in the supply room. I could tell she wanted me, even if she was trying to fight it. She could say no all she wanted, but her body betrayed her. I need to get myself under control, to get rid of this aching erection. I don't have long before I'm walking down the aisle with Emma. The maid of honor and the best man, a picture-perfect pairing.

I excuse myself to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. There's no one else here, the other men in the wedding party are busy preparing themselves. I lean back against the door and close my eyes, imagining Emma's hands on my body, stroking my cock. Her plump lips wrapped around the tip, sucking and teasing.

I pull out the tiny piece of fabric from my suit pocket. It's lacy and sheer and still smells like her. Like Emma. I breathe her in, the scent sending a wave of arousal through me.

I grip my cock, wrapping her stolen panties around it, stroking slowly. My hand is slick with precum. I imagine her kneeling before me, those gorgeous blue eyes staring up at me as she licks and sucks. My strokes become more urgent, the image of her on her knees burning into my mind.

I pump faster, my fist tightening around the fabric. It feels like she's here with me, her hands and mouth on me, bringing me to the brink.

My orgasm builds, the pressure mounting. I can't hold back any longer. I imagine her swallowing my load, her soft lips sucking every drop from me. My climax crashes over me, my release spilling onto the tile floor.

As I catch my breath, the reality of what I've just done sinks in. I'm fucking insane. Jerking off in the bathroom before my brother's wedding to his step-daughter I defiled a few nights ago.

I clean up and straighten my clothes, placing her panites back in my pocket, trying to ignore the guilt creeping up inside me. But it's no use. This is wrong, so fucking wrong. But I can't help myself. I'm a slave to my desires, and right now, I want Emma more than anything.

I head out to find Archer and the rest of the wedding party, determined to get through this day without breaking any more rules.

Archer is surrounded by his groomsmen, laughing and joking.

"There you are, man," Archer says, his smile fading when he sees the serious expression on my face. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just had to take care of something," I say, forcing a smile.

"Okay, well, we're almost ready to get started," Archer says, looking nervous.

"Good luck," I say, patting him on the back.

"Thanks," he replies, giving me a grateful smile.

The wedding planner, Selene, I think her name is, comes and gets me and the rest of the groomsmen. She goes over the same instructions she's given us all day. We all line up, each of us paired with a bridesmaid.

Emma stands beside me and I offer her my arm. She looks nervous, but takes it. As we begin to walk down the aisle, she looks up at me, her blue eyes bright.

"Fancy meeting you here," I jokingly whisper.

"Yeah," she mutters back, rolling her eyes. She seems nervous, her body tense.

"Relax," I say, placing my hand over hers. "Just focus on the music."

She nods, but I can feel the tension in her body.

We make our way down the aisle, the crowd watching us. When we reach the front, we part ways, taking our places. The ceremony is beautiful, the bride and groom exchanging heartfelt vows. As the pastor declares them husband and wife, the crowd cheers and claps.

After the ceremony, we head to the reception. The mood is light and joyous. Everyone is laughing and celebrating. I make my way through the crowd, mingling with the guests.

"Congratulations, brother," I say, embracing Archer.

"Thanks, Ares," he replies, beaming.

"You did good," I say, patting him on the back.

"Well, it wasn't easy, but I'm glad it's over," he says, laughing.

"So, when are you going to tie the knot?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Who knows," I say, shrugging. "Maybe one day."

"You'll have to meet a girl first," he jokes, elbowing me in the ribs.

"Ouch," I say, feigning offense. "I'll have you know I've met plenty of women. Just not the right one, I guess."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he says, rolling his eyes. I leave Archer with his new wife.

I circle the room, making small talk with the guests. Eventually, I end up at the bar, nursing a drink and observing the crowd.

I see Emma. She's dancing with a small group of what I think are her cousins. Archer tried to explain to me who everyone was, but most of the people are Julie's family. I couldn't keep names or relations straight.

Emma's smile is radiant, her laughter infectious. She looks beautiful, her dress hugging her curves in all the right places. I can't help but stare. She's like a magnet, drawing me in.

The music changes and a slower song begins. Couples start to make their way to the dance floor. Emma discreetly removes herself. She grabs a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and makes her way to the side of the room, looking a bit lost.

I make my way over to her, unable to resist.

"You look a bit lonely over here," I say, offering her a friendly smile.

"Not really," she says, taking a sip of her champagne.

"If you're looking for a dance partner, I think I seen chandelier without a date."

She lets out the cutest laugh. "Carter. His name is Carter."

"Sure. That's what I said," I say, shrugging.

"Whatever," she says, rolling her eyes.

"Your mother seemed to think the two of you were a perfect match," I comment, unable to help myself.

"Yeah, well, she's wrong about a lot of things," Emma says, taking another sip of her champagne.

Interesting. The way Archer talked about Emma and her mother, you would think they were best friends. But Emma doesn't sound like her mom is her best friend.

"You're not close to your mother?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It's complicated," she says, sighing. "She means well, but she has a different idea of what my life should look like."

"What's her idea?" I ask, taking a sip of my own champagne.

"You mean, besides marrying me off to Carter?" she asks, her lips curving into a slight smile.

"Besides that," I say, laughing.

"It's not really important," she says, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"It seems like it's important to you," I say, trying to encourage her.

"I don't want to bother you with it," she says, waving her hand. "You probably have other things to do than listen to me vent."

"Emma," I say, looking into her eyes.

"Oh thank god, there you are!" The wedding planner pops up out of nowhere, grabbing Emma by the arm. "It's almost time for speeches and you're up first."

"Of course," she says, sighing. She finishes her champagne and sets the empty glass down.

"Don't worry, it's gonna be fine," the wedding planner assures her, dragging her off.

"Good luck," I call after her, watching as she's pulled into the crowd.