Page 66 of The Worst Best Man
“Why would you tell this story at my wedding?” Frankie asked, horrified.
“’Cause you’re gonna marry Aiden, and I’m gonna be your matron of honor!”
“I’m not marrying Aiden! We had a one-time momentary lapse in judgment.”
“Uhhhh, judging by the orgasmic look on your pretty, pretty face, you had a life-altering one-time momentary lapse.”
Frankie slumped against Pru’s vanity. “Okay, it was good. Really good.” So fucking good every sexual experience from now on was going to pale in comparison. That was a cheery thought.
“And?” Pru prodded, fluffing the skirt of her dress around her.
“And the key phrase is ‘one-time.’ We are not each other’s types no matter how good in bed we are together.”
“Okay, okay. On a scale of Jimmy Talbot and Tanner Freehorn, where does Aiden fall?”
This was the problem with having a best friend who knew everything about you. She created sex scales based on your worst and best experiences. Jimmy had been her first and sweetly awkward. Tanner was a random hookup at a New Year’s Eve party ten months ago who had given Frankie her first multiple orgasm.
“Ugh. Don’t make me do this!” Frankie begged.
“You have to,” Pru ordered. “It’s in the friendship rules. Jimmy to Tanner. Go!”
“Tanner plus three,” Frankie mumbled under her breath. She traced the grout line with her finger, refusing to meet Pru’s eyes.
“Tanner plus wha?” Pru demanded. Her post-puke voice echoed off the marble.
“Three.”
She watched drunk Pru do the math very slowly on her fingers. “Oh hell. Five. I had five orgasms, okay?”
“Is that even physically possible?” Pru shrieked. “Wait, hang on.” She leaned over the toilet bowl and blahed again. She bobbed back up, perky as a morning TV show host who hadn’t just thrown up a carafe of champagne. “Five orgasms in one night?”
“Yeah. I think it’s like a super power or something.”
Or something all ridiculously rich dudes could do. Could money buy sexual prowess? No wonder women were always chasing them.
“I. Am. So. Happy. For. You.” Pru stabbed the air with her finger to emphasize every word.
“Again, one-time thing,” Frankie pointed out. “But let’s talk about how happy I am for you, Mrs. Stockton-Randolph.”
“Did you see my ring?” Pru asked.
Frankie had seen it approximately nineteen times since the ceremony.
“I would love to see your ring.”
“What kind of ring do you think Aiden will get you?” Pru asked, closing one eye. She slid down to lay on the marble floor, her dress puffing up around her.
“No ring. No more sex either.”
“But he’s good enough for you, Frankie.”
“Okay, you’re clearly all heart-eyes and alcohol-ed because you’re telling me to marry the guy whose brother kidnapped your fiancé on the eve of your wedding.”
“I forgot about that. But still, Aiden is amazing.”
“He’s also a perennial bachelor who likes to swap out his women every month. And again, brother kidnapped Chip.”
Pru waved a dismissive hand. “Details, details.”
