Page 107 of The Worst Best Man

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 just 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.