by Heidi Rice
Her bottom lip curled up under her teeth and a groan of frustration rumbled up his chest. He gulped it down, drawing air into his lungs—to kick-start his brain.
Back off. Don’t push too hard tonight.
He shouldn’t have baited Sabrina when they’d gotten here, and he certainly shouldn’t have touched her. But once he’d caught Elizabeth giving him her ‘you’re trash’ look from across the table, the contempt rolling off his stepmother in waves had brought all the old anger and resentment and powerlessness surging back.
And the urge to prod and poke and push at someone had been inevitable. The woman sitting beside him had just been an easy target. But then everything had gone straight to hell in a handbasket—and Elizabeth and her evil eye had been the least of his troubles.
Because instead of being stuck-up or uptight or full of herself, his dinner companion had been sharp and witty and responsive.
Way too damn responsive.
Her pupils had dilated, her breathing had accelerated and those full lips had trembled—while he slid his fingertips up her smooth skin, and absorbed the quiver of reaction in the toned muscles of her thigh.
He breathed in the aroma of coffee and that sultry perfume she wore, recalling the scent of her arousal as his fingers plunged into her damp sex. And concentrated on getting an iron-hard grip on the painful swelling in his pants.
He wanted Sabrina Millard, but on his terms—and without that shit from his past shadowing a single second. She was a gift he hadn’t expected. Smart and ballsy and sexy as hell. A gift that could help keep him sane during the family reunion from hell. A gift he would have more than enough time to unwrap in the luxury suite he’d booked for the night at Grantley Manor—where Jamie’s wedding was taking place in five days’ time.
It had been years since any woman had excited him and challenged him and intrigued him the way this woman did. And he intended to savour the experience—but only in a purely physical sense.
His swollen cock jerked in protest as Sabrina’s tongue flicked out to moisten her bottom lip, and he noted the flicker of fascination and excitement in the mossy green of her eyes. He finally had Sabrina where he’d wanted her for five years. Alert and eager and open to the possibilities, that shield of aloof superiority shattering.
He wasn’t about to blow the chance to smash the damn thing to smithereens by pushing too soon.
‘Do you think…’ she began, her voice a smoky purr of hesitation—which was all the more arousing, because he knew it wasn’t deliberate. ‘I could consider it?’
4) The Devil Is in the Detail: Be sure to coordinate all aspects of your mutual roles to avoid confusion, or unwelcome surprises.
What’s your safeword?
Sabrina stared at the text message that had popped up on her smart phone from an unknown recipient. Except the recipient wasn’t unknown. Not to her throbbing clitoris anyway. Especially as she’d been anticipating this contact for two days now—and had all but given up hope.
She glanced up the aisle of the pretty little country church in Grantley Meadows, and spotted the vicar still deep in conversation with Jamie and Libby about their preferred wording for the ceremony.
Sabrina hesitated as she gazed at Connor’s message again. So he was actually serious about finishing what they’d started. She tapped out an answer, her fingers shaking as if she were preparing to bungee jump into a ravine.
Can u please show some respect? I happen to be busy at the church rehearsal you refused to go to. Fulfilling my duties as the MOH, unlike a best man I could mention. Who is anything but!
There, that ought to do show him that she wasn’t a pushover. And that she hadn’t been climbing the walls waiting for him to contact her for two solid days ever since they’d gone their separate ways after the rehearsal dinner, when he’d informed her that he wouldn’t be attending the church rehearsal, and she, in a moment of insanity, had agreed to consider his offer of hot sex for one night only. Her foot tapped in nervous anticipation as she awaited a reply.
The speech bubble on the other side of the screen appeared two seconds later.
Safe WORD. Not WORDS. That’s way too many. Your gorgeous ass would be red hot by the time you got all that out.
A staggered laugh popped out—and proceeded to echo round the church’s stone walls like a mission bell. She peeked down the aisle to find Libby and Jamie and the vicar, not to mention both groomsmen and the three bridesmaids, all staring her way.
She waved, blushing furiously, but was surprised to discover she didn’t feel as guilty as she probably should. ‘I definitely think the vows work better without obey,’ she shouted down the aisle. ‘Stop being such a Neanderthal, Jamie. It doesn’t suit you.’
The groomsmen laughed—and she breathed out—turning her attention back to the cheeky bugger who was harassing her by instant messaging.
She clicked on the iPhone’s keypad function to respond. Clearly, polite and superior wasn’t going to work with Connor. Luckily she knew how to play dirty. When she had to.
Bugger. Off. Are those enough WORDS for you?
She pressed Send, exhilarated by her provocative response. She didn’t usually swear and text. But when you were dealing with a guy like Connor who had no respect for social niceties…
Then his reply appeared.
Still one word 2 many. Who the hell taught u 2 count? & Bugger can B misinterpreted. BTW, any objections to anal play I should know about?
Anal play? Her breathing seized to a halt. But before she had time to reply, another dialogue box showed on his side of the screen.
Consider yourself PUNKED, sweetheart. So how hot r your cheeks right now? On a scale of 1 to 10?
Punked? Did that mean he’d been joking about the ‘anal play’?
‘You complete sod,’ she murmured, relief reinflating her lungs before she passed out. She typed furiously, somehow managing to spell and reoxygenate her brain all at the same time.
Very funny. Unfortunately, I’m not laughing, because I’ve gone into cardiac arrest.
His response took less than ten seconds to appear.
All the way to 11, huh? OK, we’ll shelve anal for this booty call.
She sucked in a breath, not entirely sure if he was joking again. Then let it out. No need to debate Connor’s sense of humour—or his affinity for anal play. There wasn’t going to be an opportunity for any more booty calls after the night of the wedding because he was flying back to New York the next day. She’d checked Connor’s flight schedule with Jamie, just to be sure.
If she was going to risk having a wild, inappropriate fling with Connor McCoy, she wanted to make sure there was no chance of her getting in too deep.
Thnx, that’s big of u, but I haven’t made a decision about whether I want to go ahead with THIS booty call yet.
Time to slow him down a little. She needed to make an informed, sensible decision and sexting wasn’t helping. Because Connor’s playful side only made him more irresistible.
Give me a break. U made your decision when I had my fingers on that stiff little clit. Now pick a safeword, or I’ll pick one 4 u.
She glared at the reply. So much for his bloody playful side. Then another dialogue box popped up on his side of the screen and she glared at her phone hard enough to melt the damn SIM card.
How about PantsOnFire? That fits on a number of levels.
She texted back, indignation staining her cheeks.
STOP bullying me!
Then STOP kidding yourself. You’re primed and ready & you know it. MORE than ready. But the safeword comes B4 u do. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.
Her fingers stilled on the phone. He’d given her the opt-out clause she’d been looking for. She could end this right here, right now. After a quick grope in a restaurant and some playful sexting. No harm done.
But as soon as the thought entered her head, she knew she wasn’t going to do it. She wanted what he was offering. The chance to be a purely sexual being, to fly o
ut of her comfort zone and experience the wild, heady thrill she’d been on the verge of at the rehearsal dinner. For one night only. She owed it to herself—and her stiff little clit.
Yes, Connor McCoy was an unknown entity—a man with dark passions that he had no qualms about pursuing. But wasn’t that all part of his attraction? And so far, he hadn’t done anything that she hadn’t enjoyed. A lot.
Plus there was no danger of her falling for him, however much she might enjoy flirting and sexting—and eventually even shagging him. They weren’t friends—which meant they could never be lovers. Not in the true sense of the word.
OK, I want 2 take it. But I have some questions first.
Three question marks popped up in reply. Simple, honest and direct. Just like Connor. Her heartbeat ticked into her throat, the anticipation, the thrill of the forbidden making her giddy.
Do all the women u sleep with need to have a safeword?
It was a personal question, one she wasn’t sure she had a right to ask.
No. But U do.
She frowned, vaguely insulted by the instant response. How much of a coward did he think she was? Did he think she wasn’t sexually adventurous enough to handle him? Like his legion of other women? And exactly how many other women were there? Surely she had a right to know?
I wasn’t talking about me. I want 2 know about the other women you’ve slept with. EG: 1) How many of them r there? (ballpark figure will do) 2) Do u always dominate? 3) Y?
1. No comment 2. Yes 3. It’s HOT
Frustration tightened her throat. He hadn’t answered a single one of her damn questions. Time to play hardball.
Y No Comment? R there so many u can’t remember the number?
The ten-second delay for a response had her holding her breath.
I remember just fine…But I want 2 have sex with u, not hire u 2 write my biography. & FYI you’re the only woman I’m sleeping with ATM. If u EVER pick a damn safeword, that is!!!!!
From the number of exclamation marks, she got the definite impression she was frustrating him. Well, same goes, buster. Her exhilaration increased until it was all but cutting off her air supply.
How about DICKHEAD?? That seems appropriate ATM!!!
She relished the rich spurt of adrenaline as she hit Send—and the accelerated tingling in her bottom at the thought that she’d provoked him deliberately. And she was actually looking forward not just to his response, but to the tantalising retribution he might devise.
Jeez, was she secretly as kinky as he was?
DICKHEAD it is. But I’m gonna make u eat that particular safeword @ sum point 2 keep that potty mouth of yours busy. U have been WARNED.
A wave of heat crested at the thought of sucking off his awesome cock—while on her knees, in her maid of honour gown—promptly followed by a wave of mortification.
Bloody hell, if she wasn’t as kinky as him, she soon would be if she wasn’t very careful.
Another message flashed up on his side.
Gotta go. Hard-ons R bad 4 business meetings. C u @ the church on Sat. & remember. No panties allowed under that ass-kissing gown…. Or u will B punished.
Trembling fingers stabbed out a reply.
Punished? How?
That’s 4 me to know & u to wet your panties wondering about. Later. C.
Moist heat flooded into her knickers on cue.
‘For God’s sake, Bree, stop texting the bloody caterers again and come here. We need your input.’
Sabrina buried the iPhone back in her bag at Libby’s pained shout—disguising the evidence before her best friend found out the canapé order was the least of her worries ATM.
5) Flexibility Is a Many-Splendoured Thing: Especially if your best man is the type who likes to wing it.
‘Breathe into the bag—it’ll help.’ Sabrina scrunched up the paper and held it to Libby’s lips, while patting her friend’s back in what she hoped was a soothing manner.
Libby sucked in a few shallow breaths and handed the bag back. ‘How much longer?’
‘I told the organist to start the wedding march in ten minutes. Everyone’s ready, even Connor deigned to turn up on time…’ She pushed past the silly catch in her breathing at the mention of his name—and the thought of him stepping out of the low-slung convertible and striding up the church steps beside Jamie half an hour ago. Both men had looked tall and impossibly debonair in their matching dress suits, but Connor had the edge when it came to sex appeal—the dark intent in his expression as their gazes connected firing straight to her stomach and plunging low.
‘I know. Connor popped in ten minutes ago actually, while you were drilling Huey, Dewey and Louie,’ Libby said, referring to the bridesmaids with a deceptive nonchalance.
‘Oh really?’ Sabrina doubted her nonchalance was fooling anyone either.
‘Mmm-hmm. To wish me luck.’ Libby watched her intently. ‘If I wasn’t about to be shackled to his brother in unholy matrimony, I’d be sorely tempted to jump that man myself.’ Libby pressed her hands to her heart in an exaggerated swoon. ‘There’s just something irresistible about a dangerous man in a tux. Especially one as dangerous as Connor.’
‘Libs, has anyone ever told you subtlety is not your strong point?’
Libby drilled a finger at her. ‘I knew it. Something is so going on between you two. And he was totally touching you up at the rehearsal dinner. No way did I buy all that bollox about a misplaced napkin.’ Libby’s grin took on a triumphant tilt. ‘As my maid of honour you should fess up. It’s your duty to distract me for the next ten minutes, before I pass out from nerves.’
Sabrina smiled, the sudden urge to confide irresistible. When had she ever had a sexual encounter worth boasting about? ‘If you must know, he was touching me up under the table.’
‘Holy shit!’ Libby’s eyes popped to saucer-size. ‘Be still my beating clit.’ Her hands flapped furiously in front of her face as it turned a delightful shade of pink. ‘Oh crap, now I really can’t breathe.’
Sabrina laughed, Libby’s shock intoxicating. She’d spent so long being smart and sensible and boringly safe, it felt astonishingly good to be naughty for a change. ‘Brace yourself.’
‘What? There’s more?’
‘He ordered me not to wear knickers today. And we’ve arranged a safeword for tonight.’
‘You dirty little slapper,’ Libby said, her pride unmistakable. ‘I love it. One handjob turns Sabrina the Sensible into Sabrina the Slut. He must be The Man with the Golden Touch?’
‘That’s putting it mildly.’ Sabrina’s chest swelled, alongside her clitoris at the memory of that golden touch.
The opening bars of the wedding march soared into the small vestry. And Libby’s dad appeared at the door, resembling a penguin in his morning suit.
‘Baby, you look wonderful.’ A very proud penguin. ‘Now stop nattering, you two, and get a move on.’ He made a shooing motion towards the door. ‘Or we’re going to miss our cue.’ A very proud, somewhat impatient penguin.
Sabrina lifted the lavish bridal bouquet of lilies, peonies and trailing ivy from its perch and handed it to Libby. ‘It’s show time, Libs,’ she said, her throat closing at the enormity of what her friend was about to do. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked, happy for Libby and yet also a little sad that nothing would ever be quite the same again. Because Libby was moving forward, while she was staying in exactly the same place she’d always been.
‘As I’ll ever be.’ Libby nodded.
But as Sabrina scooped up Libby’s train, her friend hissed in her ear. ‘Except that I’m now going to be picturing you and Con doing it doggy style during the most important moment of my life.’
Sabrina choked down a giggle as they stepped into the cool, incense-scented antechamber at the back of the church, her melancholy forgotten in a rush of love for her friend.
Libby’s father folded his younger daughter’s arm into the crook of his elbow and kissed her cheek as Libby’s three nieces—aka Huey, Dewey and Louie�
��were being corralled into position by their mother, Libby’s older sister Ellie.
The strains of the wedding march echoed through the large oak doors that stood open onto the nave. The warm June sunlight filtered through the stained-glass transept, casting a shimmering rainbow onto Libby’s ivory Indian satin wedding dress. Sabrina sniffed back the errant tears. She didn’t want to be feeling wussy when she saw Connor next—it might confuse things.
As Libby’s bridemaids began their march down the aisle like a parade of ducklings in frilly tutus, Sabrina took her place behind them.
Libby grasped her shoulder and whispered. ‘So did you obey Con’s order and go commando?’
Sabrina cupped her hand over her mouth to whisper back. ‘Don’t be daft! I’m wearing a thong.’
Libby sent her a quick grin. ‘Let’s hope he punishes you for that infraction later.’
Libby’s naughty laugh punctured the strains of the wedding march as Sabrina took careful measured steps on the beat of the music, her thong riding up her now-sizzling bum cheeks and her heartbeat hammering her neck like a woodpecker on speed.
Her stomach rose up to press against her larynx as she located Connor, standing next to his brother at the front of the church. The swooping sensation in her tummy got worse as they approached the altar, reminding her of a time when she’d been backpacking round New Zealand with Libby during her gap year, and her friend had tricked her into bungee jumping off a bridge.
* * *
‘Thanks again for coming, Con, and for being my best man.’
Connor dragged his gaze away from Sabrina Millard, who was on the other side of the palatial reception hall at Grantley Manor chatting to the bride’s parents as if her life depended on it.
‘Not a problem.’ He took a slug of his beer and smiled at his kid brother. ‘I was happy to do it.’
‘And for keeping your speech G-rated.’ Jamie’s cheeky grin reminded Connor of the gap-toothed ten-year-old who’d followed him around like a puppy a lifetime ago. ‘Mostly.’
