Page 136 of The Worst Best Man
“Do you pop little blue pills for breakfast? You’re hard twenty hours a day. I didn’t even do anything to you… yet.”
The car pulled up to the front of his mother’s estate. He watched her internally freak out over the opulence. Thick ivory columns graced the front of the house. The circular driveway was made from crushed shells and orbited a large fountain with white statues in various poses of what looked like grief or some kind of extra weird orgy. The cars already here made the driveway look like a luxury sedan showroom.
“Don’t tell me what happens after ‘yet,’” Aiden begged, closing his eyes and willing his body to relax.
“I won’t tell you that I’m going to hold my boobs like this,” she said, pressing her tits together, “and let you fuck them.”
He hissed out a breath and reached for her. But she scooted out of his grip.
“Don’t you dare! Someone is going to open that door in five seconds, and we both better have our clothes on.” She wrapped her coat around her.
“Don’t play with me, Franchesca.”
“Or what?” she asked innocently. “You’ll come in your pants?”
He growled and made another grab for her shapely ass. She was his tormentor, his angel, his enemy.
The car door opened, and Frankie winked at him as she slipped out in front of him.
She’d pay. He’d make sure of it. But for now, he’d be the one to suffer.
He caught up with her on the steps and tucked her arm through his. “Slow down, sweetheart, before you break an ankle.”
“If you fall right now, you might break your dick,” she mused.
“As soon as this is over, I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit down tomorrow.”
“Promises, promises,” Frankie said airily.
“If I shoved my hand up your skirts right now, are you telling me I wouldn’t find you wet?” he asked.
Her inhale was sharp, and Aiden knew he wasn’t the only one looking forward to the end of the event. They’d be lucky if they made it back to the limo.
“Nice house,” she said, her voice strained. Her coat gapped, and Aiden caught a glimpse of hardened nipple under the satin of her top.
“Tell me you’re wearing a bra.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to lie to each other?”
“Jesus. Franchesca. How am I supposed to get through two hours knowing the only thing between my mouth and your perfect tits is a scrap of satin?”
She shrugged as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “I guess you’ll just have to think about baseball.”
He backed her up against the red brick of the entry way and flexed his hips into her so she could feel just how hard she made him. She gave a little gasp and cuddled into him.
Aiden reached into her coat and shoved his hand into the top of her dress. Her nipple throbbed against his palm. He squeezed her breast and ran his thumb over the point.
“Fuck, Aiden,” she hissed.
“That’s right, baby. You’re going to be begging me to fuck you,” he promised. “I’m going to ride you until you’re out of orgasms. Until you can’t move. I’m going to ruin you.”
She looked dazed. And Aiden felt like he’d gotten the upper hand again.
“Now let’s go smile pretty for the camera,” he said
She sagged against the wall when he stepped back. He adjusted himself to a slightly less painful position in his pants. His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. He grimaced.
“What’s wrong?” Frankie asked, righting her dress.
