10 Ways to Handle the Best Man (6 page)

Spotting them both from her place beside the DJ’s station, Libby picked up the skirts of her bridal gown and raced towards them. She threw her arms around Jamie, who swung her round in a circle to the cheers of the crowd. Something weird gripped Connor at the sight of the two of them, their faces beaming with pleasure. He’d always thought marriage was for suckers—no smart man would choose to get led around by his balls for the rest of his life. But as his brother and Libby made puppy-dog eyes at each other, the cynicism tasted sour on his tongue.

The lights dimmed as the DJ cranked up the pounding intro of the old disco track and Jamie led Libby into the centre of the dance floor.

Connor’s gaze scanned the crowd until it located Sabrina. And every thought in his head was blown away by a surge of lust.

She stood stiff as a popsicle on the other side of the room, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. He made his way towards her, pushing past the swaying couples enjoying the show. His hand slipped into his pocket to locate the bullet.

Starting now, he was going to give Sabrina Millard the longest, hardest ride of her life. And once he’d proved to her that he was the best fuck she’d ever get—that’s when he would walk away. Because that’s what he always did.

And everyone knew it.

* * *

Incoming studmuffin at twelve o’clock.

Sabrina sucked in a breath, all the zaps and tingles that had been driving her insane since her walk down the aisle going into overdrive. Connor McCoy was headed her way, apparently oblivious to the crowd surging around him as Libby and Jamie took the floor.

The thumping disco track reverberated through her torso and she licked her lips, unable to take her eyes off him. The dark tux emphasised his broad shoulders and narrow hips while his long legs ate up the distance between them. He’d lost his tie, the first few buttons of his shirt undone as if he were prepared for action. Her stomach swooped into her throat and every ounce of moisture dried up in her mouth—and flooded between her thighs.

Time to take that leap, Bree. Do not look down.

He drew near, towering over her even in her heels. She opened her mouth to say something coherent and encouraging about their upcoming dance, but before she could utter a single syllable, he gripped her upper arm and whisked her round, not even breaking stride as he marched past her.

‘Follow me.’ The command came out on a growl, as she found herself propelled through the crowd towards the back of the ballroom.

‘Where are we going? We have to do our slow-dance in a few minutes.’ She stumbled on her heels, struggling to keep up with his long strides as he dragged her through the emergency exit at the far end of the room and into the intimate shadows of a utility corridor.

The door slammed shut behind them, and he trapped her against the wall.

‘Connor, we haven’t got time…’ She ducked to get under the solid forearm, but he simply grasped her waist and dragged her back.

‘We’ve got enough.’

Panic assailed her. And not just because her carefully planned schedule was about to go tits-up.

His hand dropped from her waist and slid over the satin covering her bottom.

‘But we have to…’

‘Shh…’ He pressed a finger to her lips. She shuddered as his palm found the slit in her gown. All thoughts of her intricately planned schedule dissolved in the rush of heat as his fingers touched bare flesh, then grasped her hip.

He spun her round. ‘Put your hands against the wall and spread your legs.’ The command was barked out.

She obeyed, her body already mindless with lust, as her mind struggled to engage.

Holy shit, was he going to fuck her here? Now? Her sex swelled in anticipation, the need drenching her thighs, the pulsing yearning harsh and unbearable as he lifted her gown, thrust it to one side, exposing the bare cheeks of her arse.

He cradled them in callused palms.

‘What’s this?’ he murmured against her hair, his thumb sliding under the string of her thong. ‘I thought I made myself clear. No panties allowed.’

‘It’s not panties—it’s a thong,’ she said over her shoulder.

He gave the string a sharp twist, the tearing sound loud over the dim beat of the music as he ripped the delicate lace free.

‘Not anymore.’

She gasped, her vulva throbbing as cool air brushed over her naked sex.

‘I want that slick little pussy bare and available tonight.’

Shock and desire combined as his breath feathered against her lobe. Wrapping one arm round her waist, he delved beneath her gown with the other and found the slick folds of her sex.

‘I intend to punish you for that infringement.’

Her answering moan sounded almost animalistic as his fingers delved.

‘You’re soaking wet for me again, aren’t you, Sabrina?’

She nodded, her tongue numb, as his thumb found the stiff nub of her clitoris, circled and then flicked. She jerked, the exquisite zap of pleasure so intense her knees buckled.

The arm around her waist tightened, keeping her upright.

‘I’ve got a gift that you’re going to wear while we dance.’ He nipped at her lobe, the sharp bite sending shock waves through her system.

‘A gift?’ She struggled to process the comment. Why would he have bought her a gift? But then his seeking fingers stopped their play and he gripped her thigh, forcing her bottom further out, until her bare butt was thrust towards him.

‘Don’t stop,’ she cried, hearing the desperation in her voice.

His laugh was harsh, strained. ‘No orgasm for you yet, Sabrina. We haven’t got time in your busy schedule.’

Her dazed mind was trying to grasp the mocking words, when something cold and smooth touched the wet lips of her sex. She yelped, tensing at the thick intrusion and tried to tuck in her bottom, but he held her in place.

‘Relax,’ he crooned, as if gentling a startled horse. ‘It’ll go in easier.’

She squirmed, moaned, shocked by the fullness as the lips of her sex stretched. Holding her steady, he thrust the object deep. Then gave her bare buttock a pat. ‘Good girl.’ He gathered her gown and smoothed it over her bum.

She shuddered, aware of the object lodged deep in her pussy. ‘What is that thing inside me?’ She turned to face him, unsteady on her feet, her sex tightening uncontrollably around the alien invasion.

She went to lift her gown, but he snagged her wrist, yanking her into his arms. ‘The egg stays there, until I take it out.’ He cupped her cheek with one hand, slipped his other hand into his pocket.

She heard a slight click and suddenly the
thing
came alive. She grasped his forearms to stop from falling over, gave a shocked cry, her thighs trembling as if a major earthquake had just struck—in the middle of Surrey. The hum of sensation rippled through her sex and up her torso. Her nipples tightened, her vulva throbbed, her clitoris pulsed hard, forcing her to the knife-edge of pleasure, then holding her there, suspended. ‘What did you do? It’s vibrating.’

‘Correct,’ he murmured, his voice rich with amusement. ‘It’s going to keep you focused while we dance.’

Her breathing became ragged, the sensations staggering and overwhelming. Intensely pleasurable yes, but yet so alien, so uncontrollable, she wasn’t sure she could endure them and stay upright.

‘I can’t dance with this inside me. Are you mad?’ She wasn’t even sure she could walk, her legs were shaking so badly. ‘I have to take it out.’

He grasped her wrist again to prevent her from retrieving it. ‘Leave it, Sabrina. All you have to do is focus. But don’t you dare come.’ His lips lifted in a wicked grin. ‘Until I say so.’ Tightening his grip on her wrist, he marched her along beside him, heading for the emergency door back into the ballroom.

She tried to dig in her heels, but he simply kept on walking.

Was he actually planning to make her dance with a vibrating sex toy inside her? Each step made her more aware of the decadent humming inside her. She widened her stance, to decrease the sensations, but he only laughed as he held open the door into the ballroom.

‘Walk normally—you look like a Western gunslinger.’

Jamie and Libby’s first dance had finished, the cheers and whoops of applause pounding her eardrums.

‘I
can’t
walk normally,’ she hissed as he propelled her towards the crowd. ‘It increases the sensation.’

‘That’s the idea. Just relax and enjoy it.’

Seriously? He was really going to make her do this? In front of everyone? Her juices leaked, drenching her thighs, as she tensed around the egg, her desperate effort to disguise its presence only increasing the effect.

The seductive opening tenor riff of the love ballad that signalled the start of their slow-dance purred over the applause.

Connor led her past the onlookers, escorting her into the middle of the dance floor in full view of everyone. In her knickerless state she could have sworn she felt a breeze drifting right over her naked sex.

The song built to a crescendo, the joyous lyrics permeating her panic, and the buzz humming through her sex-starved body heating her blood. The deep blue of Connor’s irises had turned black as his gaze connected with hers, fierce with an arousal that matched her own. And suddenly all she could see was him.

Sabrina’s heartbeat thrummed in time with the pulsing heat in her sex, the pounding beat of the music. Had she ever felt so desirable? So desired?

Connor swung her in a circle and back into his arms, the grand gesture making her feel like the star of a Hollywood movie as the crowd whistled and cheered from the sidelines. He drew her close, the white linen of his shirt crisp against her cheek, and that clean seductive laundry-soap scent wrapping around her like a caress. One large hand clasped hers, the other settled on the small of her back, the rough calluses on his palm rasping against the sensitive skin where her gown plunged low. He applied pressure, trapping her melting abdomen against his hips.

‘Do as you’re told,’ he whispered against her ear through the song’s jazzy trombone solo. ‘Or I’ll increase the vibrations.’

Her steps faltered. He could make the vibrations stronger than this? That would kill her.

His arm tightened, making her suddenly aware of the stiff length prodding her belly through his pants as he moved easily with the music.

Her thigh muscles tensed and released, her breathing accelerated as the song rose to another crescendo, and the singer crooned the chorus about a new life, a new dawn, a new day.

Confidence soared through her on the wings of the lyrics.

She draped her arm round Connor’s shoulder, felt his muscles bunch with tension and swivelled her hips, the slow, sensuous movement rubbing that glorious erection. Could she feel it pounding? Lengthening? Leaping?

His groan gave her the only answer she needed.

Yes. Why not make this as torturous for him as it is for me?

His hand stroked down her spine, and he ground the pounding length into her belly, matching the song’s raunchy bassline.

‘Behave yourself,’ he rasped. ‘Or you’ll suffer. I have my finger on the trigger, remember.’

She gyrated against the huge shaft, the grin spreading across her face. She was slow-dancing with the most dangerous guy in the room. She felt bold and brave and beautiful for the first time ever.

There were no expectations with Connor, no past and absolutely no future—and the thought was liberating. She had a tiger in her arms for one night only. Why be scared of tugging its tail?

Her fingers threaded into the hair at his nape and she rolled her hips again. ‘Be careful, Connor, because I plan to make you suffer more.’

His eyes flashed with challenge, a muscle in his jaw twitching as his hand strayed to his pocket.

She stretched into the heavy palm caressing her spine, absorbing the riot of sensation as the vibrations flared, and desire coiled tighter inside her. She moaned, her whole body humming, and rode the wave of pleasure as it rose to an impossible peak.

Then took that final wild leap as the coil released in a magnificent rush and she gave herself up to the love song’s glorious exhilaration.

* * *

Jesus Christ, she’d climaxed—in his arms, on the damn dance floor. And looked magnificent while doing it. Untamed, uninhibited and courageous. So magnificent, his raging cock was about to explode in his pants.

Connor cradled her head against his chest as her body shivered through the final waves of her orgasm and she softened against him. Her lush cleavage plumped up, threatening to spill out. He ground his teeth together, fighting the urge to scoop the ripe flesh out of her gown and suck the nipples poking at the shimmering satin like bullets.

He was going to hunt the crooner of this song down and punch the guy’s lights out if the damn thing didn’t finish soon.

‘Please turn it down,’ she whispered against his neck in between her ragged breathing. ‘I can’t come again—I’ll collapse.’

Tucking his hand into his pocket, he flipped the switch onto the lowest setting. He raised her chin with a knuckle. The dazed heavy-lidded eyes and the bright flush of embarrassment—and desire—staining those pale cheeks made his cock pound.

‘You weren’t supposed to come the first time.’ He kept his voice firm, despite the tickle of humour at the thought of them trapped on a dance floor with her barely able to stay upright and him sporting an erection the size of the Statue of Liberty. ‘What the hell happened to focus and concentration?’

Her bright green eyes narrowed, her lips thinning in a belligerent expression, and something clutched hard in his chest. Damn, he hated to be a cliché, but she was even more magnificent when she was pissed.

‘I’d like to see you try focus and concentration with a huge power tool shoved up your arse.’

The rough chuckle spilled out. ‘You’re mighty grumpy considering you’re the one who just had the orgasm.’ The vivid pink went a dark red at the reminder—and his cock twitched. He moved his hips, backwards and forwards, brushing the swollen head against her to relieve the pulsing ache. ‘And that power tool is tiny, compared to the one I’m going to be drilling your sweet little pussy with very soon.’