The Worst Best Man(99)

It occurred to Aiden that Frankie might be dangerously close to breaking another nose.

He slid his arm around her waist. “I have very fond memories of the first time she wore it. I hope I get to see it many more times in the future. And speaking of the future, I hope your questions for my girlfriend reflect both her intelligence, her sense of social responsibility, and her involvement in the business community.”

He dragged Frankie away before she could add anything further.

“What the fuck? Dress Gate? Are they serious?” she hissed.

“Aiden! Franchesca!” Cecily Kilbourn, dressed in head to toe silver, glittered her way toward them.

“Mom,” Aiden said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“I’m glad you two were able to make it inside,” Cecily teased.

Frankie turned scarlet, and Aiden pulled her into his side and dropped a kiss on top of her head. “Sorry about the R-rating,” he said, not feeling remotely sincere in his apology.

“I’m happy to see you happy,” Cecily said, winking at them both. “Now, let me introduce you two to some people.”

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It was the last time he had his hands on Frankie. She was dragged away for introductions and wine while Aiden made his own rounds. His mother had opened up the library, dining room, and grand hall for the event. He tried to stay in the same room as Frankie, but when Pruitt and Chip arrived, he felt like he was constantly chasing her from room to room.

He found her easily in the crowd when he got up to make his speech. He spoke of family and community and the responsibility they felt for providing for a better future. But he thought of Franchesca, naked and bucking under him.

She smiled up at him from her chair. Those red lips curving sinfully.

It was an obsession, her mouth. Listening to the words she would scream or pant or plead while he was inside her. Watching her wrap her lips around his cock as she took him to her throat. That dirty, smart, funny mouth.

He’d given up trying to anticipate exactly what she’d say. She was quicker with a jibe, wittier with a reply than anyone he knew. His Franchesca had the brains that made her even more appealing than her goddess-worthy curves did.

It wasn’t just sex. It never had been with Franchesca. He loved watching her. He loved their late-night calls to catch up. He loved knowing he was going to see her and enjoying that painful edge of anticipation. He loved… her.

The thought echoed in his head, resonating like the chime of a bell. Resonating like the truth.

People were applauding, but only Frankie existed to him.

He stepped down from the riser his mother had positioned at the end of the grand hall and zeroed in on her. Ignoring the attempts to grab his attention, he reached her and tugged her from her chair.

“Come with me,” he ordered, pulling her from the room into the empty hallway.

“Aide, slow down,” she said breathlessly behind him. He slowed his steps so she could keep up.

“What’s going on down there?” she asked, eyeing his crotch.

Aiden reached down and adjusted his erection that was threatening to tear its way out of his pants.

He turned on her. “This is what you do to me, Franchesca. You eviscerate a reporter, you cross those long, beautiful legs, you order a fucking pizza, and I’m hard.”

“Too bad we’re surrounded by a hundred people who didn’t come to watch a porno,” she said. And then she made a mistake. She reached between them and cupped him through the material of his pants.

He grabbed her by the arm, hard. “Don’t tease me, Franchesca.”

He saw that spark in her eye and recognized it. The woman loved a challenge almost as much as he did. Maybe even more.

“Or what? You’ll punish me?” She dragged her knuckles over the ridge of his cock. “You’ll fuck me? Where would the keynote speaker drag me off to—”

He didn’t let her finish the sentence. He wouldn’t have survived it. Aiden kept his grip on her arm and dragged her down the hall.

She was jogging to keep up with him, her short steps on those heels made her tits bounce against their confinement. If he didn’t find an empty room in the next six seconds, his drycleaner was going to have a serious issue to deal with.

The kitchen and morning room were too open. There was too much traffic. The library was where the bar was and usually drew a small crowd over the course of an evening. But the music room with its glass doors and dark interior? That would work.

He pulled her inside and kicked the door shut behind him.

“Are you gonna lock it?” Franchesca asked, her voice husky.

“There’s no lock,” he said, drawing her across the darkened room to the white Chesterfield sofa. “So, if someone comes in here they’re going to see me fucking you on this couch. They’re going to see your tits bounce every time I drive my dick into you.”

That excited her, that potential for exhibitionism. He saw it in the gleam of her eyes.

She always managed to surprise him.

He balanced her on the rolled arm of the sofa. Aiden reached up behind her neck and in one swift tug untied the halter neck of the dress. It was exactly why he’d bought it for her. That quick access. One hard pull, and her breasts were tumbling into his hands.

They were heavy and caramel tipped, the nipples already budding at just the thought of his mouth on them. He skimmed his thumbs over them and listened to her hiss of breath.