Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  Chip and Pru extracted themselves from the permanent embrace marriage seemed to have sewn them into.

  “Aiden’s here,” Pru said, pointing at the limo in front of them. All limos looked the same to her, so she took their word for it.

  Frankie felt her blood sing. She wanted to see him here on his own turf. See what she’d been missing out on. She wanted to watch his pupils dilate when he got his first good look at her in this damn dress. She wanted him to be proud to have her on his arm.

  And she wanted to eat some goddamn dinner.

  “Just two photographers,” Chip said, glancing out the window. “They must not have seen Aiden yet.”

  Frankie gulped. “Why? Does he get a lot of attention?”

  Pru and Chip exchanged a look. “You’ll be fine. Be you,” Chip said, patting her on the knee. He exited the car first and held a hand out for Pru.

  Frankie saw the flash of a camera and rolled her eyes. Who in the hell in their right mind would camp out in front of a restaurant in February to snap a few pictures of people?

  She stepped out next and immediately forgot about the photographers. There on the sidewalk in front of her was Aiden Freaking Kilbourn, and he was closing in on her like a lion on a slow, fat gazelle. The look in his eyes told her he was hungry, too. Just not for dinner.

  Frankie felt a cold rush of air and realized she’d forgotten to button her coat. Aiden noticed too as the wind opened the cashmere, parting it.

  She swore he licked his lips, and then his hands were on her and then his mouth. His touch ignited every nerve ending in her body as if they’d been waiting for this exact moment. It was chemistry, biology. Something hardwired into them both, and Frankie couldn’t get enough of it.

  He kissed her hard, licking into her mouth to stroke his tongue against hers, leaving no doubt to any witnesses exactly who she belonged to. Laying claim to her.

  She didn’t like being on display. Didn’t like the attention. And she would have told him so if she hadn’t been so busy clinging to him like a vine.

  “So, we’ll go get some drinks then,” Chip said, pointing toward the restaurant and dragging the grinning Pru after him.

  “Meet you crazy kids inside,” Pru called after them.

  “We’ll be back,” Aiden answered without looking away from her. There were flashes of light, and Frankie was dimly aware of questions being hurled at them both. And then Aiden was tucking her under his arm and guiding her back to his limo. He opened the door and ushered her inside.

  “Drive until I say so,” he ordered tersely and then raised the privacy glass.

  “What about dinner?” Frankie asked, sliding across the bench seat to accommodate him.

  “We’re having dessert first,” he breathed, freeing her of her coat. His hands cruised her dress, stopping reverently just beneath her abundant cleavage.

  “Do you know what happened after you sent that picture today?”

  “What?” she breathed, needing him to touch her. Afraid that when he did, she’d cease to exist. She ran her palms over his thighs.

  “I had to excuse myself from the meeting to jerk off in my bathroom.

  Her breath was a shiver. “Did you think of me?”

  “Gorgeous, I’m always thinking of you.” He reached down and palmed his hard-on through his pants.

  Frankie was instantly wet. “In a limo?” she hissed. She hated to admit it, but limo sex was on her bucket list.

  “It has to be now, or I won’t make it through dinner. Not with you in that dress.”

  His blunt honesty was as attractive to her as the predatory look in his eyes.

  Game, Frankie slid a leg over his lap, leaving enough room that he could free himself from the confines of his pants. His thick length fell heavily into her hand. He was already leaking, and Frankie felt a thrill of power. Steadying her on his lap, Aiden reached around her into a compartment and produced a condom.

  He’d probably had sex in this car a hundred times, Frankie thought. But she’d be damned if this wasn’t the only time burned into his brain forever.

  While he rolled the condom on and stroked himself gratuitously, she inched the skirt of her dress up until it bunched around her hips. She shoved at the wide V-neck until it slid off her shoulders down her arms. The material hanging precariously from her breasts.

  The low rumble in his chest was her reward.

  He leaned over and pressed his face to her breasts, his beard rough against her skin. Frankie moved closer so the powerful strokes of his hand brought his cock in contact with where she needed him most desperately.

  “It’s going to be hard and fast, Franchesca,” he warned her. “Once I’m inside you, I’m not going to stop until you’re coming on me.”

  “Fuck me, Aiden,” she breathed. It was an order, a plea.

  He gripped her hips, positioning her with his tip probing her center, just outside her weeping entrance. With one hand, he yanked her thin-as-air underwear to the side.

  His chest was heaving, his jaw clenched, and he hadn’t even started fucking her yet. Aiden Kilbourn over the edge was a heady sight.

  It was her last coherent thought as he thrust his hips up, driving into her with brutal force. He didn’t give her a moment to get used to him, to relax around him. He jackhammered into her and used one hand to free her breasts from the dress. It had a built-in bra, so there was nothing left separating him from her heavy, needy tits.

  “Aiden,” she hissed when he closed his mouth over one nipple and sucked it hard. His thrusts never ceased. He growled into her breast, his hands gripping her hip so hard it made her cry out again.

  It only made him fuck her harder.

  He was out of control, suckling and thrusting, driving her completely mad. Frankie dug her hands into his shoulders and held on for dear life.

  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She could only take what he was giving her. Life. Fire. Desire.

  “So fucking perfect,” he murmured against her flesh.

  This dress had been the best extravagant purchase of her life.

  She felt him thicken inside her, heard his breathing go ragged, and knew he was close. Aching to orgasm. Hanging by a thread.

  He held her against him, shortening his thrusts to grind against her. It was beautiful, primal.

  He released her nipple with a pop and moved to her other breast, his eyes bright and hard on hers. She watched him take the tip in his mouth, felt his tongue stroke over her. She had molten gold flowing through her veins. Her world went white hot and brilliant as her orgasm exploded without warning.

  “Aiden!” She sobbed out his name as he thrust in to the hilt. His moan was low and guttural as he emptied himself into her. Even through the condom, she could feel him pulsing inside her, releasing his seed in a never-ending climax.

  She came again, or still, as he rode out his orgasm. And when he finally went still beneath her, Frankie collapsed against him.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, pressing her breasts against his crisp shirt. He stroked her bare back with soothing sweeps of his hand. The praise he whispered in her ear made her blush. Her boyfriend was one dirty talker. And that was coming from a woman whose second word as a child was “fuck.”

  She felt like he’d taken her apart and put her back together again. There was nothing like feeling Aiden inside her. Even now, after an orgasm that had hollowed him to the core, he was still semi-erect.

  “Thank you for the dress,” she whispered, her throat too raw for any volume.

  He laughed softly against her hair. “Thank you for you.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Aiden clearly had clout at The Oak Leaf. The host didn’t even blink when the limo pulled up in the alley. He merely led them through the kitchen, past the bar, to their table where Chip and Pru were arguing over tapas.

  Frankie tried to ignore the curious glances in their direction. He was the most recognizable Kilbourn in the family and a permanent bache
lor. There was bound to be interest.

  Frankie slid into the booth first, and Aiden followed her, his hand clamping on her thigh under the table. She picked up the menu and pretended to peruse it, ignoring the expectant weight of Pru’s stare.

  “How are the clams here?” she asked innocently.

  “Uh, hi. How was your limo sex?”

  Frankie looked up at Pru who was resting her chin in her hands and grinning smugly.

  “It was nice. Right, Aiden?” Frankie said haughtily, looking at him. His hair was mussed, but it could pass for purposeful styling. His tie was crooked. And the rest of him was, of course, flawless. She, on the other hand, looked as though someone had run a vacuum cleaner over her and then bit her in a few key places.

  “Very nice. Highly recommended,” he said, reaching for his water goblet and downing half of it.

  He squeezed her thigh and moved his hand a millimeter higher on her thigh.

  Teasing him, she hooked her shoe over his shin, opening her knees.

  No one else would know just by looking at him, but he was already displaying his turn on tells. There was the flush at the neck, the flaring of his nostrils. She wished she could get a look at his crotch, betting money he was sporting wood again. The man was a freaking marvel. His orgasms probably had orgasms.

  “So…” Pru began pointedly. “How’s life?”

  They dined on fabulous food, drank astronomically expensive wine and, in general, had a lovely time. Frankie eventually forgot about the curious stares and enjoyed watching Aiden relax. His reserved façade slipped around Chip. And he laughed more, smiled more, those sexy-as-hell crinkles showing at the corners of his eyes. Even while deep in conversation with his friend, Aiden still maintained a physical connection with her. Toying with her hair, stroking her shoulder with his thumb, or coaxing his fingers higher on her thigh.

  Pru filled them in on their honeymoon. When residents of the Upper West Side marry in Barbados, they can’t very well vacation there, too. Pru and Chip had spent another ten days in the Maldives. Frankie wasn’t exactly sure geography-wise where the Maldives existed, but the pictures on Pru’s phone were stunning.

  It felt… normal. Blissfully so.

  Well, as normal as a $73 pasta entrée could feel. A Friday night with friends. For the first time, Frankie felt like they were a real couple. She wasn’t the poor girl from Brooklyn. He wasn’t the CEO and newly appointed family head.

  He was very simply hers. Aiden, the man who drew every woman’s gaze and snagged the check from Chip claiming the meal was a welcome home gift, belonged to her.

  Frankie felt a rush of teenage girl giddiness sweep through her. Like she’d just spotted Pre-Jessica Simpson John Mayer across the restaurant.

  “Girl bathroom break,” Pru announced pushing Chip out of the booth so she could escape. “Let’s go, Frankie. Give the boys a chance to miss us.”

  Pru all but hauled Frankie into the bathroom and then mauled her in a fierce hug.

  “Okay. What the hell is this?” Frankie asked, awkwardly patting her friend on the back.

  “You love him!” Pru squealed. “I’ve been waiting for the day when you look at a man the way you sat there and looked at Aiden.”

  “I don’t love him,” Frankie argued.

  “You have this glow,” Pru said, twirling around and checking her makeup in the mirror.

  “It’s a post-orgasm glow. He dragged me into his limo for sex, Pru. We’re not decorating summer homes and naming babies.”

  “And the way he looks at you? I swear to God it singed my eyebrows off. He wants to eat you alive.”

  “Stop. You’re all clouded with newlywed bliss, and you want everyone else to be in love right along with you.”

  “We should have babies together,” Pru decided, reapplying her lipstick. “We could share a nanny.”

  “I love you, Pruitt, but you’re fucking insane.”

  Pru grinned at her in the mirror. “I like seeing you happy. That’s all. I promise. I’m mostly just teasing.”

  “You’re such an ass,” Frankie laughed.

  “I may be an ass, but you sure photograph well,” Pru said, handing over her phone.

  “Are you kidding me?” Frankie scrolled through the post. It was a gossip blog with a series of pictures of Frankie and Aiden pawing each other on the sidewalk. “Oh my God, my mother is going to see these!”

  “Your mother and anyone who’s anyone in the city,” Pru said, unsympathetically gleeful.

  “This just happened! How is this even a story with…” she scrolled up again, “three updates since it was posted?”

  Pru rolled her eyes. “Uh, don’t you teach social media workshops?”

  “To business people about businesses!” Frankie waved her arms at her friend. “Not some vapid readership that has an opinion on… my food order? What the hell is wrong with these people?”

  “You’re an exotic unknown on the arm of everyone’s favorite bachelor. What did you expect?” Pru asked.

  Pru’s phone vibrated in Frankie’s hand, and a text message popped up.

  “How is that ethno-mutt dating Aiden Kilbourn?” Frankie read out loud.

  “What?” Pru shrieked. “Is that in the comments?”

  Frankie held up the phone. “Uh, no. That’s your best pal Margeaux texting you.”

  “She’s the worst human being in the history of human beings. The world is lucky she has no ambition besides getting another husband because, if she had any kind of drive, she’d be the new Hitler.”

  “How are you two friends?”

  “We’re definitely, definitely not. My father and her father are business partners. I was in her first wedding to a cocaine-snorting, prostitute-buying gambling addict. They made a lovely couple.”

  Frankie slumped against the wall. “Someone is telling the paparazzi what I’m eating for dinner. And hundreds of people are freaking out about it, including Hitler Junior. I’m not ready for this.”

  Pru marched up to her and stabbed a finger in her shoulder. “You listen to me Franchesca Marie, you can and will handle this. You are the one person in this world who has the ability to be completely immune to this kind of attention. And if you can survive it, your prize is Aiden. So suck it up. You’re dating a guy who gives you an excuse to hang out with me and Chip in Manhattan on a Friday night. I’m not letting you make a mess of it.”

  “Don’t tell me you were tired of schlepping to Brooklyn for cheap pizza and movies?” Frankie joked, but she felt the familiar unease return. It was another reminder that she didn’t belong in this world. At the end of the day, she was just a girl playing dress-up for the night.

  Could she really survive keeping a foot in both worlds?

  Chapter Forty-Two

  “It’s still early,” Pru said, checking Chip’s watch.

  There was nothing early about a dinner that wrapped at 11 p.m., Frankie thought, stifling a yawn. “Do you guys want coffee, or do you want to hit a club?” Chip offered.

  Frankie slid her gaze to Aiden’s. “No thanks,” they said together.

  “They’re going for Round Two,” Pru explained with a wink at Chip.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” he said, winking down at his wife.

  “You know, I kind of miss the eyepatch,” Frankie mused to Chip.

  Aiden texted his driver from the table to bring the car around and helped Frankie into her coat. The restaurant was much less crowded, but the crowd outside seemed bigger than before. The maître-d whispered something in Aiden’s ear, and he frowned, nodded. Two gentlemen in suits appeared.

  “What’s going on?” Frankie asked.

  “There’s more paparazzi outside,” Aiden said, glaring through the glass. “Security is going to clear the way for us.”

  “Clear the way? How the fuck many people are out there?” Frankie asked.

  “Not that many,” he said dryly. “I’m not in a boy band.”

  There were enough people milling about to Frankie
’s way of thinking. Sure, Bieber would have caused a fan frenzy, but there were still two dozen curious passers-by and seven guys with cameras when they left the safety of the restaurant. Security barreled their way through the crowd forcing the cameras back as Aiden tucked her under his arm and guided her to the waiting limo.

  She was blinded by the flashes but otherwise unscathed. And the second Aiden slid in behind her, the door closed, sealing them off from prying eyes.

  “Why do you eat here if you get that kind of response?” she asked, flopping back against the head rest.

  The back of the limo still smelled faintly of sweat and sex.

  “They’re more interested in you and who you are to me,” Aiden told her.

  “Well, they better prepare for disappointment,” Frankie shot back.

  Aiden tugged her into his lap and reached inside her coat to hold her around the waist.

  “It goes with the territory. Just like your mom slapping everyone. It’s one of those things we all have to tolerate.”

  Frankie laughed and rested her head against his chest. She’d half expected him to jump her again the second they got in the car. But this was nice too. Very nice.

  “You’re breathtaking, Franchesca.”

  “Aide,” she said softly.

  He shook his head. “I’m not trying to give you a compliment. I’m warning you. They’re going to find out who you are. They’re going to want to know everything about you and put it up for public consumption.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because you’re mine.”

  It was arrogant the way he stated it as fact. But damn it if she didn’t like hearing that claim a little bit.

  She opened her mouth.

  “Don’t argue with me,” he warned her.

  “It’s what I do best,” she teased, toying with the buttons of his shirt.

  “Don’t argue about not belonging to me. I belong to you. I’m yours. All in, remember? It goes both ways.”

  “All in,” Frankie murmured.

  * * *

  Aiden’s building was in the middle of everything important. Only three blocks from his office, he could walk should he choose to brave the masses. Though after witnessing the attention he attracted, Frankie didn’t blame him for hiring a car. Not much fun feeling like a goldfish in a bowl on the commute to work. Where everyone else in the city was an anonymous stranger, Aiden’s face and name was known far and wide.