The soft rustle of fabric filled the air as Rebecca twirled in front of the full-length mirror, her wedding dress floating around her like a cloud. The seamstress hovered nearby, her nimble fingers poised to make the slightest adjustment, the room a cocoon of white silk and taffeta. The sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow that bathed the room in a gentle light, making everything seem more magical.

A gentle rap on the door interrupted the serene scene. "Come in," she called, expecting another round of congratulations from her bridesmaids or perhaps a delivery of flowers. The handle turned slowly, and she caught a glimpse of her father's reflection in the mirror. His tall, athletic frame filled the doorway, casting a shadow across the floor.

He stepped inside, his eyes immediately drawn to the dress. It was his wife's, her mother's, a treasure that had been carefully preserved over the years. It had been altered to fit her petite form perfectly, the lace delicately sewn and the beadwork shimmering in the light. For a moment, he was lost in the sight of his daughter, so much a mirror of his wife's youthful beauty it was as if time had folded in on itself.

"Daddy," she said, her voice a mix of excitement and nerves. The seamstress took the cue and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The two of them were left alone in the quiet, the only sound the distant hum of guests arriving for the wedding. She watched as he took in the sight of her in the dress, his eyes misting over with a mix of joy and pain.

"You look just like your mother," he finally managed, his voice thick with emotion. He stepped closer, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath his feet. The scent of his cologne filled the space between them, familiar and comforting. "I know she's watching over you, so proud."

Rebecca's eyes met his in the mirror, her own brimming with unshed tears. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. They shared a moment of silent understanding, the weight of the day pressing down upon them both. She reached out and took his hand, feeling the strength in his grip.

"I just wanted to wish you luck," he said, his voice a little steadier now. "This is your day, sweetheart. Make it one that you'll never forget."

She turned to face him, the dress whispering against her legs. "Thank you," she repeated, her voice stronger. "I know I'm not going to forget it."

He searched her face, looking for any sign of doubt or fear. "You do know that you look perfect, don't you?"

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Thanks to you, Daddy."

They shared a tender moment, their hearts beating in sync with the anticipation of the day ahead. The air in the room was charged with a bittersweet nostalgia, a celebration of love, and the inevitable passing of time.

"Is everything okay?" Rebecca asked, noticing the intensity of his gaze. It was as if he was trying to etch the image of her in this dress into his mind's eye forever. He nodded slowly, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. "I didn't know you were going to wear her dress," he admitted, his voice cracking.

Her father's hands came up to gently cup her face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that had started to form in the corners of her eyes. His touch was firm but gentle, a silent reassurance that she was loved and cherished. "You look just like her," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "It's like looking into your mother's eyes all over again."

The weight of his words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the woman they had both lost. Rebecca felt the warmth of his palms against her skin, the roughness of his thumbs on her cheekbones. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation, and took a deep breath to steady herself. When she opened them again, she saw her reflection in his eyes, the love and pride shining through the sadness.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I know it's a big day for both of us. I wanted to honor her in my own way."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. The dress felt like a bridge connecting her to a past filled with joy and sorrow. His eyes searched hers as if looking for answers to questions unspoken. The room was still, the air thick with emotion.

With a tremble in his hand, he lifted her chin, his thumb brushing against the soft skin of her neck. He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, a gentle gesture that seemed to pass the torch of love from one generation to the next. His touch was warm, a stark contrast to the coolness of the pearls around her neck.

Rebecca's heart raced as she felt his hand trace the line of her jaw, his fingers lingering for a moment before his lips found hers. It was a kiss filled with the love of a father for his daughter, but also the shared grief of a love lost. His strong hands held her face, his thumbs pressing into her cheeks as he deepened the kiss, his love and pain melding together in a silent plea for time to stand still.

The kiss was a moment out of time, a sudden and unexpected bridge between past and present. She could feel the roughness of his stubble against her skin, taste the salt of his tears, and hear the rapid beating of his heart. His grip was firm, as if he was afraid she would slip away, like the sand slipping through the hourglass of their shared memories.

Her body responded instinctively, her arms wrapping around his neck as his tongue parted her lips. It was a kiss that spoke of love, of longing, of a bond that transcended the boundaries of time and loss. Her mind reeled with confusion, but her body knew only the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

The fabric of the wedding dress whispered around them as they swayed slightly, lost in a moment that was both beautiful and heartbreaking. She felt her father's hand slip from her face to the small of her back, pulling her closer, as if trying to absorb her into his very being. Her own hand found its way to his chest, feeling the thud of his heart beneath her palm.

The kiss grew deeper, his arms tightening around her waist, and she found herself responding, her tongue dancing with his in a dance as old as time. The room spun around them, the mirror reflecting a scene that seemed to belong in a different world, one where love had no boundaries and grief had no hold.

Suddenly, as if a dam had broken within her, she realized the gravity of what was happening. She pushed him away, breaking the spell with a gasp. "Daddy," she whispered, her voice hoarse and filled with shock. "What are we doing?"

He took a step back, his eyes wide and haunted. "I'm sorry," he breathed, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean... I just..." He couldn't find the words to explain the tumult of emotions that had led him to this moment.

Rebecca looked at him, her own eyes brimming with unshed tears. She searched the depths of his gaze, looking for the man she had known all her life, the man who had been her rock, her protector, her confidant. In those eyes, she saw a storm of love, grief, and longing that she had never seen before. Her heart ached for him, for the loss that he carried, and for the love that seemed to have nowhere to go.

Without a word, her father pulled her into a fierce embrace, his arms wrapping around her so tightly that she could feel the strength of his love, a love that was as intense as it was disturbing. Her body went rigid with shock for a moment before melting into his, as if drawn by an invisible force. She felt his heart beating against her chest, the thunder of his passion echoing through her.

Their kiss grew more urgent, his hands moving over the silky fabric of the wedding dress to the bare skin of her back. The dress had been designed to hug her curves, and now it seemed to be a prison, trapping her in a passion that was as surprising as it was confusing. She felt the heat of his skin through the gossamer material, the calloused pads of his thumbs tracing circles on her exposed flesh.

His mouth moved to her neck, his kisses leaving a trail of fire that seemed to burn away her thoughts and her fears. His touch was possessive, his need for her undeniable. The room spun around them, the voices outside becoming a distant murmur, the scent of her bouquet mixing with the musky scent of his cologne.

Her own hands found their way to his broad shoulders, gripping the material of his tuxedo as she kissed him back, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and longing. The fabric of his shirt was smooth beneath her fingertips, the warmth of his skin seeping through. His hands moved lower, cupping her bottom and pulling her into him, the fabric of the dress the only barrier to their bodies.

Her breathing grew ragged, her heart thundering in her chest. She knew this was wrong, knew she should stop it, but the intensity of his kiss, the desperation in his touch, it was as if she were being swept away by a current she could not fight. The world outside the room, the wedding, the groom waiting for her at the altar, all of it felt so far away, so trivial in the face of this overwhelming tide of emotions.

He picked her up with ease, his hands gripping her hips as if she weighed nothing. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the fabric of the wedding dress billowing around them like a cloud. He held her with a strength that belied his gentle nature, his fingers digging into her flesh as if to claim her, to keep her close. She could feel the tension in his arms, the power that had carried him through life's trials now focused solely on her.

Her own hands found their way into his hair, her fingertips tangling in the soft, graying strands. She had always loved the way his hair felt, the way it smelled, a scent that was uniquely her father's. But now, it was mingled with the scent of his skin, the warmth of his body, and the musky scent of his cologne. His mouth was insistent on hers, his tongue exploring every corner of her mouth as if he were trying to claim every part of her.

Their kiss grew more urgent, his hands moving to her ass, cupping and squeezing as he held her tightly. The dress was no longer a symbol of purity but a barrier to the passion that seemed to burn through them. Her own hands were lost in his hair, pulling him closer as she arched her back, her breasts pressing against his chest. The sensation was electrifying, confusing, and utterly terrifying.

With a grunt, he set her down on the table, her legs still wrapped around him, the delicate lace of her panties the only thing keeping them from full contact. The items scattered on the table clattered to the floor, forgotten as he kissed her harder, his hands moving to grip her thighs. The cold wood was a stark contrast to the warmth of his body, sending shivers up her spine.

Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, the hunger in his gaze unmistakable. His thumbs traced the edge of her panties, the fabric so thin that she might as well have been bare before him. The word "Bride" glittered in the soft light, an ironic twist to the forbidden desire that had taken hold of them. The air grew thick with the scent of their need, the room spinning with the weight of their taboo passion.

He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her skin, making her gasp. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing the fabric of her panties aside to expose her fully. She could feel his hot breath against her, his desire for her palpable. Her body responded despite the confusion of what they were doing, her core pulsing with a need she had never felt before, not even with her fiancé. The room was a whirlwind of white, the dress a cocoon that was now a prison.

With a gentle tug, he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down her legs. They fell to the floor like a discarded promise, a silent surrender to the passion that had overtaken them both. His eyes locked onto the sight before him, drinking in the beauty of her perfectly manicured pussy. A small tuft of hair was shaved into a heart above her slit, the soft pink flesh begging for his touch. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt his cock thicken in his pants.

Leaning in, he buried his face between her legs, his tongue parting her folds to taste her sweetness. She moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders, her hips bucking against his mouth. He explored her with a fervor that was almost primal, his tongue dancing over her clit in a rhythm that made her toes curl. The scent of her arousal filled the air, a heady aphrodisiac that clouded his senses. He could feel her quiver against his face, her body responding to his every touch.

The words "Yes, Daddy. Don't stop, Daddy," spilled from her lips in a desperate chant, each one a declaration of her surrender to this unexpected ecstasy. His mouth worked her with a fierce hunger, his tongue swirling around her clit, flicking it with the precision of a master artist. The sounds of his suckling and her cries grew louder, echoing off the walls of the room. His thumbs pressed into the softness of her inner thighs, pushing her legs wider apart, granting him full access to her wetness.

Her orgasm built, a crescendo of pleasure that seemed to consume her. Her body tightened, her muscles contracting around his tongue, and then she shattered, crying out his name. Her juices flowed over his mouth and chin, and he greedily lapped them up, savoring the taste of her. The room spun around her, the white walls and ceiling swirling like a canvas painted with love and lust.

Her legs trembled, her body limp with the aftermath of her climax. He kissed his way back up her body, his hands never leaving her skin. The room was silent except for their ragged breathing, the only evidence of their transgression the discarded panties and the scent of their desire.

Her eyes locked onto his as his hand reached for the button of his pants. The anticipation was like a living thing between them, a tangible force that seemed to hum in the air. With trembling fingers, he unzipped his fly, his gaze never leaving hers. The fabric parted to reveal his erection, standing proud and thick.

Her father's cock was a revelation, a stark contrast to the man she had always known. The hair around the base was unkempt, wild, as if it had a life of its own. It was longer and thicker than her fiancé's, and the sight of it sent a thrill of both fear and excitement through her. She knew what was about to happen, the taboo act that would forever change their relationship. She nodded, giving him the silent permission he seemed to seek.

He gripped the base of his cock and stroked it once, twice, a silent declaration of his need for her. Then, with a feral growl, he pushed her legs further apart, exposing her completely. The tip of his cock grazed her folds, and she felt the heat of him, the promise of what was to come. With one powerful thrust, he was inside her, filling her in a way she had never felt before. The pain was sharp, but it melded with the pleasure, creating a symphony of sensation that had her crying out, "Yes, Daddy," as if it were a sacred mantra.

His eyes never left hers as he began to move, his hips pistoning back and forth. The wood of the table was cold against her back, a stark contrast to the fire that burned within her. He was relentless, his cock claiming her with a force that seemed to shake the very foundation of her being. She felt every inch of him, the velvety heat of his shaft sliding in and out of her, stretching her to the point of pain that blurred into ecstasy.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her body arching to meet his, driven by a need that was as primal as it was wrong. She was lost in the moment, in the feel of his body against hers, in the sound of his grunts of pleasure and her own desperate cries. The room was a whirlwind of sensation, the white walls a backdrop to their taboo union.

Their movements grew more frantic, their breaths mingling as they kissed, his teeth nipping at her lower lip. She could feel him growing larger inside her, his strokes becoming more urgent. Her own orgasm was building again, a crescendo that seemed to have no end. It was as if she were on the precipice of a cliff, about to plummet into an abyss of pleasure and pain.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing within her. She felt the warmth of his release fill her, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. They clung to each other, their bodies shaking with the force of their...