Sonya carefully removed the hot rollers from her hair. The honey-colored mass fell well past her shoulders in thick curls. She began combing it and then pulling it up and away from her face, securing it with pins.

She swiveled around in the chair at her vanity and smiled. Her wedding gown was spread out on the bed, made of the finest silk that money could buy. The dropped neckline was trimmed with iridescent sequins and edged with fine hand-woven lace: a spectacular diamond necklace her fiancé had given her would set it off; and it had a cathedral-length train. The bodice was cut to fit smooth, and it had capped sleeves. The veil was fingertip-length, and would be anchored to her head by a delicate tiara.

The ensemble was breathtaking. And why not? Sonya was marrying J. Francis Hughes, a corporate CEO of a large company. He had paid for the dress, and he could well afford to give Sonya everything money could buy.

If only Dash didn't show up. Sonya bit her lip, worrying. Dash, her ex, would surely have read her wedding announcement in the paper. Sonya had known that she and Dash would never make it in the long run - the only thing they'd had in common was incredi-ble sex. That was why when Dash had proposed to her, she had declined. And he swore he would make her sorry.

For Dylan's sake, she hoped he didn't show up. Dylan was the only good thing that had ever come out of her relationship with Dash. He was their son, and he had just turned twelve. Dash had left Sonya when Dylan was three, and Dylan didn't remember him. He looked upon 'Frankie' as he called J. Francis, as his father.

Now, at the age of thirty-two, Sonya was finally happy and getting married.

The door suddenly burst open and framed in the doorway was Dash.

Sonya leapt from her chair and snatched up her silk robe to cover her near naked body.

"Dash, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I want to see my son."

"He's in the playroom, and you have no right to come barging into Francis' home..."

Sonya trailed off as she noticed that Dash was dressed in a suit. Dash saw her face and said, "No, I'm not a guest, but how do you think I got in? I told the maid who answered the door that I was. Now, tell me where the playroom is, and I'll collect Dylan and go."

"You are not taking my son out of this house."

"He's my son, too, you know."

"You walked out on me nine years ago, when I turned down your marriage proposal. You haven't been to see Dylan since, and he looks upon Francis as a father. He's only twelve - you can't just barge in and disrupt his life now! He's well-adjusted."

"I can't believe what you and your soon-to-be husband have done with that child. From what I've been told from friends, you have him going to that prissy private school, Our Lady of... um..."

"Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception," Sonya supplied the name.

"And playing the damned violin, and now I've been told that he speaks French fluently! He should be wearing jeans and playing football, not acting like a pansy!"

"Dylan is a very well-rounded little boy," Sonya replied. "And you are not taking him. Now, if I offer you some money, will you go away?"

"I'm not after money, Sonya. I have money of my own. But maybe there is something you could do to persuade me to leave... without Dylan..."

His gaze went to the bed and the gorgeous wedding gown spread upon it.

Sonya knew exactly what he was thinking, and as she looked at the bulge in his pants, she couldn't deny the dampness between her legs and the lure of one last tryst.

She dropped the robe, and stood there in nothing but her lacy bra, matching panties, white silk stockings, and the lace and silk garter on her left thigh.

Dash's gaze grew hot and he lifted Sonya in his arms and laid her on the bed, right on top of the wedding gown.

"I'm going to fuck you on top of your wedding gown," Dash growled in Sonya's ear. "And you're going to enjoy every damned second of it."

He spread Sonya's legs apart with his knee as he kissed her deeply. Her tongue snaked out to twine with his, and she reached down to fumble with the fastening on his trousers, and get them open. She slid her hand inside, under the waistband of his boxers, to wrap her fingers around his hot, hard cock.

Dash groaned deep in his throat and slipped a hand in between her legs and yanked aside the gusset of her panties. He diddled her gooey cunt expertly. Her pussy was sizzling.

"You like that, don't you, Sonya? You remember what it was like when I finger-fucked you," he panted, as Sonya moaned.

Sonya was going crazy. She wanted Dash's cock inside her so badly.

Dash then lowered his head to lap at her sopping cunt-slit. She moaned in ecstasy, grasping his head and humping her twat into his face. Francis had licked her cunt plenty of times, but never once had he brought her to the heights of pleasure that Dash was bringing her to now.