Page 139 of The Worst Best Man
Aiden pushed the skirts of her dress up until his fingers found wet satin. “So ready for me, baby. Aren’t you?”
Frankie nodded wordlessly, her eyes glazed over as Aiden slid his fingers inside her delicate little thong. She was already spreading her legs for him. He tugged the satin down to her knees and let them fall the rest of the way. He took a moment to stroke his begging cock while Franchesca watched hungrily as his fist closed around his shaft. As he stroked, moisture pooled at the tip like tears of delayed gratification.
“You are so fucking perfect,” he praised her as he guided the head of his cock between her legs. “I’m going to fuck you standing like this so I can watch you when you come on me.”
She gave him a tiny nod, and he felt like he was back in control. He had won. And what a sweet victory it was with the tip of his dick pushing against her velvet wet.
“This is how I’m going to fuck you tonight in my mother’s house with a hundred people on the other side of those glass doors. Anyone could see you. Anyone could watch you come for me.”
“Aiden,” his name was a strangled cry from her lips.
With one hand holding her hip and skirts, he pulled and thrusted at the same time.
The angle prevented him from going any deeper. But it was enough. Enough for the greedy little squeezes of her pussy to milk him like a fist. Enough for her to buck her hips against him and beg for more.
There was nothing between them and it was exquisite. Her slick flesh held his erection in a death grip. “You’re so close already, baby.”
“Who knew I’d like being bossed around?” Frankie murmured, a whisper of a laugh hanging on her words.
He needed more of her. Being fully clothed with just his dick hanging out of his pants wasn’t enough. But it would get them through the party. He squeezed her hip tighter and hefted her breast with his other hand. Heavy and full, her breasts were a personal fantasy. He wanted to suck, to lick, to make her scream. But with the height difference he had to settle for tugging that perfect dark nipple with his fingers.
She answered by pushing into his hand and bucking her hips harder. She was riding his rigid cock standing up. Sliding back and forth on it taking a few inches each time.
“Aide. I’m coming,” she moaned.
There was nothing more important to him than feeling Franchesca fall apart on his bare cock. He didn’t care that there were footsteps approaching from the hallway. Didn’t care that they could see Marjorie Holland, heiress to a coffee fortune, clear as day from the lit hallway as she wandered past the door.
“Jesus,” Frankie hissed.
He needed her to come. Dropping her skirts, Aiden shoved his hand under them and used his thumb to press speedy little circles to her clit.
She went off like a rocket around him, bathing him in wet, gripping him like a fist. Squeezing him to within an inch of his life. And all the while he mimicked the waves with pulls of his fingers on her nipple.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” she chanted in a soft, desperate whisper.
He wanted to tell her there in that moment, with her lips forming the perfect o. Her hooded eyes glassy as they stared in shock and joy into his own. I love you. He could say it right now. But a Kilbourn never showed all their cards at once.
She was still trembling through the last aftershocks when he spun her around and bent her over the rolled arm of the couch.
He pushed his way inside her, hungry to be welcomed again. This time, he slid all the way home. Frankie let out a sharp gasp that he could feel at the tip of his dick. He wouldn’t last long. Not with her draped over a sofa for his pleasure. Not with those beautiful breasts hanging down, nipples brushing tasseled pillows.
Aiden gripped her hips and eased halfway out of her. She whimpered, and it went to whatever primitive part of his brain was responsible for fucking. It broke him. There was no control as he thrust back in. There was no finesse in the way he used her body to build himself to orgasm. He felt the tightening in his balls as they drew up against his body, felt the tingling at the base of his spine.
The sound of his flesh slapping against hers was music to his caveman ears. He was brutal with the power of his thrusts. But when he reached down, hinging over her to take handfuls of her breasts, Franchesca threw her head back and gave a silent scream of ecstasy. Her orgasm, a surprise to them both, destroyed him. There was no holding back or making it last. He poured himself into her, holding deep at the hilt and relishing the feel of his hot seed exploding inside her walls.
This is what had been missing. This is what he would never again do without.
He curled grunting softly through every wrenching spurt, raining kisses on the bare skin of her back. “My beautiful Franchesca. You’re mine now.”
“Pretty sure I was before you filled me up with a gallon of your super sperm in your mother’s cigar room.” He slapped her lightly on the ass. And, liking the sound and her squirmy reaction, did it once more.
“Music room,” he corrected.
“Whatever. From now on, I dub this room the secret party orgasm room.”
Aiden slowly pulled out of her and watched his come drip out of her, wet and hot on her thighs. He found a box of tissues on a completely impractical secretary desk and returned to her. Franchesca seemed to feel no need to get up and put herself back together. And with her breasts bared, her ass in the air, Aiden was oh so tempted to put his half-hard cock back in her.
“Don’t even think about it, Kilbourn. Clean up in aisle three.”
