The Worst Best Man

by Lucy Score

  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.

  “My mother is reminding me that there are security cameras out here.”

  “Seriously?” she swore darkly. “She already probably hates me for causing a scene, and now I’m dry humping her son on the front porch!”

  “There was nothing dry about that, Franchesca,” Aiden grinned wickedly.

  “Evil.” She made a cross with her fingers. “Stay away from me with your magic penis and pheromones.”

  He laughed and opened the front door.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  His mother had limited the press to a few society reporters and bloggers. The media was confined to the entry hall, a two-story room in soft ivories and beiges with fussy accent chairs and tables.

  It was a very civilized press gauntlet on home turf. Aiden kept Frankie glued to his side. His mother had made it very clear to the press that no one would be discussing Lionel Goffman. They suffered through the same questions over and over again. How did you meet? How long have you been seeing each other? And with each round, he could feel Frankie getting antsier.

  “My subscribers wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t bring up Dress Gate,” the blogger had thick glasses and pink streaks in her hair and directed the question at Frankie.

  “What’s Dress Gate?” Frankie asked.

  “The ongoing conversation about you repeating the red Armani dress you wore to dinner at The Oak Leaf and then again to lunch this week.”

  “Are you pulling my leg?” Frankie asked, bewildered.

  The blogger flashed her a friendly smile and waited.

  Frankie looked up at Aiden. She was practically vibrating next to him.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head. “Oh, I’ve got this one. Don’t you all have more important things to do with your time? It’s a beautiful dress. I like it. I’m going to wear it more than once, not throw it away. Deal with it. Why don’t you ask me about the small business initiative the city is trying to pass or how survival rates with children fighting leukemia are five percent higher at this facility than any other in the country? Or, at the very least, ask Aiden here who he’s wearing.”

  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.”

  --------

  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.

  Yes, this was love and need and everything in between. He backed her against the couch and dipped his head to feed, first at one breast and then the other. She clawed at him, slipping her hands under his jacket, raking her nails over the fabric of his shirt.

  “I don’t have a condom, Franchesca,” he said, unbuckling his belt.

  “I don’t fucking care, Aiden.”

  “Be sure,” he warned her. “Because I’m not going to stop.”

  Her answer was to grip his cock through his pants with one hand while wrestling with his zipper with the other.

  He was hard enough that his cock escaped the confines of his pants on its own and hung heavily toward her. He was going to feel her tonight. Every sensation would be magnified. Every squeeze of her pussy he’d experience with nothing between them.

  He wouldn’t give her foreplay or finesse. Not here. But he would finish her in the room in which he’d suffered through summer time music lessons. He’d pour himself into her and brand her from the inside.

  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.”

  He cleaned them both—and the floor—as best he could and pulled her underwear back into place. “I want you to spend the rest of the night with my come inside you.”

  Aiden Kilbourn gushes over girlfriend at hospital fundraiser…

  Is Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor officially off the market?

  Love is in the air for Aiden Kilbourn…

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Their bliss lasted until Monday morning.

  Franchesca steamed past reception, leaving the staff staring after her.

  When Oscar rose from his desk, she shook her head.

  “He better be in there, and no one better interrupt us,” Frankie said, stabbing a finger at him.

  Oscar bobbed his head. “Yes, ma’am!”

  She heaved open the door and marched inside, ignoring the delighted expression on Aiden’s face. He wasn’t allowed to be delighted. He should be shaking in his boots.

  She dropped her iPad on the desk in front of him with the offending article.

  “You can’t just buy a company because some guy was mean to me!”

  Aiden’s gaze flicked down to the headline and back up.

  “Mean to you? Franchesca, he put his hands on you.”

  “So, you bought his company and fired him?”

  “He’s lucky I didn’t do more than that.”

  “Don’t put me in the m
iddle of your pissing contest. Some guy thought he could beat you, so you ruin him?”

  “Some guy thought he could touch you, drag you away from your work, and insult you, and I’m supposed to do what? Nothing?”

  Frankie flopped down in the leather visitor’s chair. Gio had called her on her way into work to tell her he always liked Aiden and approved of his methods. She’d only been at her desk long enough to corroborate the story before she took a personal day and rode the train downtown in a fit of rage.

  She scrolled through more of the article.

  “Oh, my God. He checked into rehab?”

  Aiden looked so unconcerned with the fact that he’d ruined a man’s life, Frankie was aghast.

  “You’re not going to convince me that I should have left him alone,” he said coolly. “And I’m not the only one. Your brothers—”

  “If you agree with my brothers, then we have a problem. They’re idiots.”

  “They have your back, and so do I.”

  “You took it too far, Aiden!” Frankie rose and paced his office.

  “Would it make you feel better if I told you he’s a systemic harasser? That he’s paid off previous accusers? That his company was weeks away from bankruptcy, and all those people would have lost their jobs?”

  She flopped back down in the chair again, suddenly exhausted.

  “You and I, Franchesca? We’re in this together. We belong to each other. And if someone comes after you, they will live to regret it. I expect the same courtesy from you.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “So I’m just supposed to say thank you?”

  The door to Aiden’s office flew open. Ferris Kilbourn strode in with Oscar hot on his heels.

  “I need a word with you,” Ferris announced, zeroing in on Aiden behind the desk.

  “Sorry,” Oscar mouthed to Frankie.

  “Why in the hell would you get tangled up in a mess like Goffman’s company?” Ferris demanded slapping down a newspaper where Frankie had only minutes earlier dumped her tablet. “You’re not thinking with your brain, son.”