10 Ways to Handle the Best Man

by Heidi Rice

  She hooked her thumbs into the fabric bunched at her waist, and heard the hum of approval in his throat. The desire to provoke him returned in a rush.

  She wiggled her bottom to ease the gown over her hips. His eyes flared and his jaw tightened, intoxicating her.

  He rubbed his hand absently against his trouser leg as the gown stretched over her bottom and then dropped, to pool at her ankles.

  He exhaled sharply, and she stepped out of the garment and kicked it away.

  ‘Happy now?’ she asked, mesmerised by the growing tent in his pants. Moisture gathered in her sex. Could he see her juices glistening in the spotlight?

  ‘Ecstatic. The suspender belt is a nice touch,’ he murmured, his voice so low and raspy it scraped across her nerve endings.

  She reached to unclip the belt.

  ‘Leave it,’ he ordered, and her fingers stilled. ‘It’s like your pussy is framed in lace, especially for me.’

  Moisture gushed as he stood and came towards her. ‘I bet that clitoris is desperate to be touched, isn’t it?’

  ‘What do you think?’ She lifted her chin, determined not to show an ounce of vulnerability.

  Teasing was all well and good, but she wanted to tease him now, too.

  She’d enjoyed stripping for him, enjoyed the force of his reaction, but there was only so much torture she could take in one night without getting even.

  ‘That’s a bit rude, Sabrina,’ he said, the amusement thick in his voice as he threw her own words back at her.

  But when she lifted her hand to touch his cheek, intending to pull him down for a kiss, he grabbed her wrist, and swung her round.

  ‘Let go of me.’ She tried to wriggle free, but only became more aware of the muscular forearm banded under her breasts—and the iron bar in his pants that nudged her bottom. ‘I wanted to kiss you.’

  ‘No kissing allowed. Not on the lips.’

  ‘Why not?’ she asked, as it occurred to her they’d never shared that small intimacy.

  He didn’t answer. Bracing his foot on the chair, he bent her over his raised knee.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she gasped, struggling in earnest now, abruptly aware of her naked backside thrust up in the air.

  ‘Something that’s long overdue.’

  The loud smacking sound shocked her almost as much as the sharp, stinging heat on her left buttock.

  ‘Ouch!’

  The air expelled from her lungs in an astonished yelp, and she squirmed, but he held her firm, as two more slaps landed. Evenly spaced on her buttocks. Not too hard, but hard enough to have the heat spreading across her vulnerable bottom like wildfire. She opened her mouth, finding her voice at last, but the protest dissolved in a moan, as his blunt fingers stroked down the crease of her bum, and found her yearning clitoris, instantly zeroing in on the perfect spot.

  Sensation exploded, mixing with the stinging heat, to create a warm wave of pure pleasure.

  She shuddered, moaned, mindlessly moving into his touch, desperate to increase the friction, desperate for him to take her all the way.

  But just as the wave surged and gathered, intensifying around his stroking fingers, he stopped and spanked her again.

  ‘Not yet, Sabrina, not until I say so.’

  The stinging jolt stopped her right on the edge, suspended between intense pleasure and hot, stinging pain.

  ‘You bastard.’ She moaned, desperate, needy, mindless with lust. ‘Please, just touch me again.’

  His fingers delved, as if answering her plea, spreading her folds, circling exactly the right spot, guiding her back to that perfect oblivion.

  ‘Hold on to your orgasm. If you go over without permission again I may keep you on the edge for the rest of the night.’

  She clamped down hard, focusing on the tantalising touch, as she struggled to control the tortuous roll of pleasure.

  ‘How’s your arse?’ he mocked. ‘Nice and hot yet?’

  ‘Maybe.’ She squirmed and he laughed, spanking her again.

  Forget hot, it was bloody burning, but each sharp slap intensified the magnificent wave which built every time his fingers caressed, tormenting the burning nub.

  ‘That’s it,’ he coaxed. ‘The orgasm will be stronger if you learn to control it.’

  The steady strokes drove her into a frenzy. She bucked, trying to escape his touch now. Sweat beaded on her lip, her breasts swinging, painfully tender. His fingertip teased the aching bud, flicked and circled and fondled.

  ‘I can’t hold off. It’s too much.’

  ‘Yes, you can, just a little longer.’

  Tingles turned to sizzles, and then flared into an inferno as the vicious wave hurtled closer. Then he found the plump, hard nub of her clitoris and pinched.

  ‘Come for me now, Sabrina,’ he whispered, the sound deafening as she let go, allowed at last to fly headfirst through that final barrier.

  The wave of bliss slammed into her, gushing through all the places she ached. The fireball blazed right behind—pumping, burning—like a wildfire torching everything it touched.

  The primal scream wrenched past dry lips—a high, keening sound she didn’t even recognise as her own voice—as she gave herself up to the inferno.

  7) Accentuate the Positive: If the best man is doing a good job, tell him so.

  Sabrina floated, weightless, boneless, disorientated. Her sex still throbbing, her mind drifting back to consciousness on a golden tide of sensations.

  Had she ever had an orgasm that strong? That intense? That prolonged? She’d thought the handjob he’d treated her to in Rules had been the nirvana of sexual experiences. Boy, had she underestimated him.

  But then she landed on something cool and her lids popped open, the heady buzz of afterglow dispersed by the scalding heat in her bottom. Connor was poised above her as she lay on the satin quilt in the suite’s master bedroom. Her chest tightened. Had he carried her in here? While she was floating in afterglow?

  ‘Oww,’ she muttered, placing her hand on her smarting bum, brutally aware of the liberties he’d taken with her—and how much she’d enjoyed it.

  ‘That’s more like it.’ He captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger and placed a kiss on her forehead, the affectionate gesture disconcerting. ‘No sleeping allowed before Round Two.’

  She frowned at the arrogant amusement in his tone.

  ‘I’m hardly likely to fall asleep.’ She rubbed her backside. ‘Seeing as my bottom feels as if it’s been branded.’

  The rusty laugh didn’t do much for her temper. ‘Branded? Huh?’ He placed a large callused hand on her bum cheek. The cool caress on the heated flesh sent pleasant ripples of sensation through her nerve endings. ‘Poor baby, you want me to kiss it better?’

  ‘That would be a start.’

  The cool caress lifted to her hip and he rolled her over onto her stomach.

  ‘Hey, let me up.’ She tried to roll back, but he held her in place. Her buttocks tensed. Was he going to spank her again? As mind-blowing as it had been the first time, she wasn’t sure she wanted another round yet.

  But then his lips buzzed her burning bottom—while his fingers plunged into her soaking sex. The glistening egg landed on the pillow in front of her. The sharp pat on her bottom made her yelp, not because it hurt but because it had all those delicious ripples zapping to full attention.

  ‘Consider yourself branded, baby.’

  Humiliation burned her neck, adding to the tingles of awareness, but by the time she’d twisted onto her back to protest, he was on his feet by the bed, unbuttoning his shirt.

  Her indignation dried up alongside all the moisture in her mouth as the hard planes of muscle and sinew were revealed one teasing inch at a time. He tugged the tails of the shirt out of his waistband, and shrugged it off.

  Wow.

  Triceps and biceps and a ton of other muscle groups she didn’t know by name bulged and flexed. Her nipples tightened as she followed the happy trail of dark hair down the ridg
ed muscles of his abdomen. He unhooked the waistband of his suit trousers and she swallowed past the obstruction in her throat.

  The enormous tent in his trousers had gotten bigger.

  Clearly awesome was a euphemism for colossal.

  The flutter of anticipation warred with the hot, heavy weight in her sex. And the burn of emotion still lodged in her throat.

  But as he gripped the tab on his zipper, her hand shot out. ‘No, wait.’

  She scrambled across the bed on all fours, not caring how inelegant she looked. ‘Can I?’

  He lifted his hands in silent acknowledgment, the twist of amusement on his lips both cocky and ridiculously sexy.

  She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, clipped off the suspender belt and rolled down the stockings.

  ‘Did I say you could take those off?’

  She looked through her lashes as she peeled the gossamer silk the rest of the way down, then perched on the edge of the bed, her bottom tingling, her face at eye level with that awe-inspiring package.

  ‘I want to be able to feel you. Everywhere.’

  Blood flooded into her cheeks as his nostrils flared. ‘Point taken,’ he murmured, his voice rusty.

  She dropped her chin, stared at the length in his pants. And swallowed, her mouth actually watering at the thought of seeing him at last.

  Her manicured nails flashed pink against the dark fabric of his tux pants. She located the tab, eased the zip down over the straining bulge.

  The thick outline became visible, only contained by his boxers now. She ran her palms down his thighs, felt the muscles tense beneath velvet skin as she pushed his pants past narrow hips and watching him step out of them.

  Hooking the waistband of his boxers down, the mammoth erection leapt free. The broad head, plump and thick, surged towards her. She gasped, with a tinge of dismay she couldn’t disguise.

  She’d seen several erect penises in her life, but she’d never seen anything quite this overwhelming.

  Forget awesome. He was spectacular. So long and thick, the tip pointing skyward. Her pelvic muscles tensed at the prospect of taking all of that inside her. And she’d thought the egg was a tight fit.

  A bead of moisture formed on the tip, fascinating her. She circled the broad base in trembling fingers, felt the thick pulse of blood, then lifted on her knees and licked along the slit, savouring the salty taste on her tongue.

  ‘Damn it.’ His agonised whisper spurred her on.

  She swirled her tongue around the crown, feasting on the tangy taste of musk and man, then traced the thick vein that pulsed down his length. She cupped the heavy testicles that had drawn up at the base in her palm, and opened her lips, eager to take him into her mouth, but his hands cradled her cheeks, jerking her back.

  ‘Don’t.’

  Her eyes met his, the piercing blue now black, the lids drifting to half mast. The harsh rasp of his breathing matching her own tortured breaths.

  ‘Why not?’ She heard the yearning, knowing she had never wanted anything more.

  She’d never been into giving head, had always considered it a chore, but there was something about this bad, beautiful man. His strength, his solitude, the dangerous shadow that lurked just beneath the cynical charm, the constant control—it made her want to bring him to his knees and make that cast-iron control crack.

  But he hooked his hands under her arms, drawing her onto her feet. ‘Because if I don’t get inside you in the next sixty seconds I’m liable to explode.’

  Lifting her in his arms, he placed her on the bed.

  ‘But wait a min…’

  The rest of her protest got muffled by a mouthful of the quilt as he flipped her over, then lifted her hips, forcing her face into the bed.

  The sudden shock of vulnerability arched through her as he positioned her on all fours—and the thick head of his penis touched her inner thigh. She shook, her pussy clamping down hard, her lungs seizing, as her body braced for the heavy thrust that would drive him deep.

  But instead of the brutal invasion she had expected, he slid his length along the cleft, angling his erection to slip through the folds of her sex. And reached round to cup her swaying breasts.

  ‘You’re drenched.’

  The swollen head of his erection prodded at the nub of her clitoris. And he squeezed her distended nipples between his fingers.

  She groaned, the feel of his erection toying with her, the pinch of sensation darting down from her breasts to her core—both exquisitely arousing and yet exquisitely frustrating. Her pussy clenched on the emptiness, her overstimulated clitoris and her swollen nipples too sensitive for attention. She wanted him inside her. Buried deep. Why didn’t he just do it?

  He swore viciously and suddenly let her go. She heard the rustle of clothing, the rip of foil and realised he’d almost forgotten to suit up.

  ‘What the hell do you do to me,’ he muttered. But she wasn’t sure the statement was meant for her to hear.

  Then hard hands grasped her hips and the blunt head pressed into her, spreading the lips of her sex so much more than before. A whimper escaped as he entered her in one smooth, solid stroke, thrusting so deep she could have sworn she could feel him in her throat.

  ‘You’re so fucking tight.’

  She pulled forward, struggling to ease the immense fullness, but he dragged her back, impaling her fully on the hard length.

  Her breaths came out in ragged pants. He felt impossibly deep. Filling her, stretching her unbearably, pushing her through the pleasure barrier towards pain. His hand covered her hot bottom, caressed the flushed skin. Her thighs trembled as her pelvic muscles tightened and released in a desperate bid to accommodate his size.

  He withdrew an inch, maybe two, then thrust back, solidly, firmly, and she realised she still hadn’t taken the full measure of him. Because there was more, driving deeper.

  ‘It’s too much. You’re too big,’ she moaned, the sound feral in its desperation.

  ‘Shh, baby,’ he crooned, then he reached under her, pulling back the hood of her sex.

  ‘No, don’t,’ she wailed, unable to bear any more sensation.

  But her cry was already too late, as he located the pounding nub, and glided over it.

  White-hot lightning streaked through her, coiling and releasing, triggering the long, slow roll of orgasm as he started to move—timing each stroke with the slick glide of his finger, fondling the burning nub.

  Pulling out, pounding back, the heavy erection stroked a place deep inside, and another orgasm built, hard and fast on top of the first. Rolling through, breaking free.

  She sobbed, her knees giving out, her body already battered, in the grip of the never-ending waves of orgasm. He yanked her up, pounding into her in a furious, merciless rhythm now. Blinding, unstoppable pleasure fired across her skin, stole her breath, smashing through every pulse point, and exploding in her veins.

  His thrusts became jerky, jolting, animalistic, the massive erection driving into her the only thing she could feel, could fathom, her dazed mind reeling as the endless wave gathered again, washing through her like a tsunami.

  She cried out, her voice hoarse now, and felt him swell, becoming even bigger inside her, as his shout of fulfilment joined her helpless sobs.

  * * *

  Connor roared as his mind blanked, his hands clutching her hips as he pistoned, driving towards that final oblivion.

  She squeezed around him one last time, milking him, and the devastating pleasure crested and surged at last, the climax bursting up from his balls and pumping into her tight, wet heat. The thick, barbaric release crashed through him—shattering him, draining him.

  ‘Goddamn it.’ He managed to whisper as the last of his semen pumped into the condom.

  He struggled to brace his elbows, his mind numb, his limbs limp and uncoordinated, as he clung on to the last of his strength to stop from collapsing on top of her and crushing her into the mattress.

  Her body shuddered beneath him an
d she whimpered, the small sound piercing his consciousness. He struggled to be careful as he eased the still thick erection from the clasp of her body. Tenderness closed his throat as he let go of her hips and she fell forward onto the bed.

  Shit, he’d fucked her like a goddamn express train.

  Somewhere around the moment she’d licked the tip of his cock, and he heard the deep purr of pleasure as she savoured his taste, his control had shattered. Everything else had been a blur.

  She curled into a ball on the bed, her lush curves flushed, the brand he’d left on her butt rosy on her pale skin.

  His softening cock twitched and he dragged in a breath. Dropping his chin to his chest, he tried to regulate his breathing—and the renewed pulse of desire.

  Get a grip, McCoy.

  He shouldn’t have pushed her so far, so fast. So what if she had a safeword? He’d hardly given her a chance to use it.

  ‘You okay, honey?’ He stroked the slope of her spine, brushed his thumb over her arse—and swallowed down the shame when she flinched.

  ‘I think so.’ The tremor in her voice reminded him a little too forcefully of a time in his life when he’d been unable to control his actions. Unable to stop himself taking whatever he wanted, unable to give a shit about the consequences.

  He dropped down next to her on the bed, pulled the coverlet over them both. ‘You don’t sound too sure.’

  She remained on her stomach, curled into the mattress, her face turned away from him. He placed his hand on her back and rubbed, desperate to reassure himself that he hadn’t hurt her. ‘Look at me, sweetheart.’

  She let out a soft sob of breath, and he had the terrible thought that she might be crying. But then she shifted round, and the grip on his heart loosened at the sight of her eyes—dry and wary. ‘I’m okay,’ she said. ‘It was a bit intense, that’s all.’

  He tucked the shiny curls of her hair behind her ear, framed her face with his hand, stupidly comforted by the matter-of-fact response. To think he’d once thought her no-nonsense approach was annoying? Pretty dumb, given that it was one of the things he found so damn irresistible about her now.