10 Ways to Handle the Best Man (Mills & Boon Cosmo Red-Hot Reads)

by Rice, Heidi

  ‘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.’

  ‘Sure.’ Connor smiled back, glad to be distracted from the ticking time bomb in his pants, which had been tormenting him ever since Sabrina had sashayed down the aisle towards him in that gravity-defying dress.

  She’d been avoiding him ever since, flitting about like a butterfly among the guests at the sit-down dinner and now at the after-party—organising, instructing and always staying just out of his reach.

  And all those stolen looks, those darting licks of her tongue across her top lip, the swing of her hips in that damn gown had been driving him nuts all evening. Inventing all sorts of hot ways to punish her when he finally got his hands on her was not making the ache in his crotch any less insistent.

  But her number was nearly up. Because in less than ten minutes, according to Sabrina’s own neatly typed schedule, the string quartet playing some fancy classical stuff in the corner of the salon were scheduled to be replaced by the DJ in the huge ballroom beyond, and Jamie and Libby’s first dance would kick off.

  Once that happened, Sabrina would be all out of places to run.

  He slung his hand into his pocket to touch the remote-controlled bullet he’d purchased especially for later in the evening.

  They hadn’t okay’d the use of toys during their sexting marathon the other day, but given her smart, funny quick-fire response to him so far, he was confident he could finesse her into losing a few more of her inhibitions.

  The thrill of being the first guy to push her outside the vanilla box—and see that stunned pleasure again when she discovered her wild side—was taking his anticipation to a whole new level.

  Lifting his hand out of his pocket, he rubbed his palm on his pants, struggling to refocus his attention away from the vision of Sabrina naked and quivering with need for about the fiftieth time that day. He didn’t usually have a problem with deferred gratification, but instructing her not to wear panties had definitely been a tactical error, because imagining her succulent pussy completely naked beneath her dress was crucifying him.

  ‘Just give me the word if you ever want me to return the favour, man,’ Jamie continued.

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Connor said easily, secure in the knowledge marriage would never be on his radar.

  ‘Sabrina’s pretty cute, isn’t she?’

  Connor glanced at his brother, who was watching him—way too closely. ‘I guess.’

  Jamie looked down at his toes, then shoved both his hands into his pockets. It was an uncomfortable stance Connor recognised from way back, when Jamie’s mother had been giving Connor a hard time, and Jamie had defended him. But Connor got the feeling it wasn’t him Jamie wanted to rescue now.

  ‘Don’t hurt her, man,’ Jamie murmured, never raising his head.

  Connor felt his brows knot. ‘Hurt her? Why would I hurt her? I hardly even know her?’

  What the hell? When had his kid brother starting believing the worst of him, too?

  Jamie’s eyes met his at last. ‘I saw you guys at the rehearsal dinner. And you’ve been watching her like a hawk all afternoon. I know you’re planning to nail her tonight.’ He lifted his hands out of his pockets, his expression pained. ‘All I’m saying is be careful with her. You’re a player, Con. And she’s not.’

  Connor’s stomach tightened. ‘That sounds like your mother talking.’ He’d forgotten about that toxic time in his life and he didn’t much like the reminder.

  Jamie’s eyebrows rose up his forehead. ‘That’s bullshit. I’ve always thought you were great, man.’

  He felt a little of the tension releasing, and hated himself for even caring what his brother thought. His half-brother. His family’s low opinion had lost the ability to screw him up a long time ago. ‘Then why should you care what I do with Sabrina? She’s a consenting adult.’

  ‘I care because she’s Libby’s best friend. She’s a great person. And she’s had a rough time.’

  The skin on the back of Connor’s neck prickled—a sure sign that he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear. ‘Rough, how?’

  ‘Her boyfriend, a douche called Carl, cheated on her last summer. She’s been down in the dumps ever since. Libby wanted to hook you guys up, so you could cheer Sabrina up again.’ He hitched his shoulders. ‘But I guess I just wanted you to know she’s not…’

  ‘She’s not what…?’ Connor said, his tone as measured as he could make it with his temper kicking in.

  If there was one thing he hated, one thing he couldn’t stand, it was being led around by his damn cock. And yet that’s exactly what had happened. He’d been panting after Sabrina like a damn dog—and bypassing his usual caution when it came to picking his sexual partners. He didn’t sleep with women who were looking for anything other than a casual hook-up—so why hadn’t he checked Sabrina out more carefully? And why was the thought of her douchebag ex making him so mad?

  ‘You know…’ Jamie shrugged again. ‘Your usual type.’

  ‘What do you mean by my usual type?’ But he had a pretty good idea and it wasn’t helping with his temper—or that grinding feeling of inadequacy in his gut that he remembered from when he was sixteen and he’d been standing in his father’s study as his stepmother had slapped him across the face, and told him to get out of their home.

  ‘Look, man, forget it. It’s cool. Libby wants you two to get it on,’ Jamie said. ‘And I’m sure she’s told Bree all about your rep with women. So I doubt she’s expecting anything more.’

  Connor swallowed past the renewed bolt of temper. That Libby had warned Sabrina about his rep was good—not annoying. ‘Why the hell is Libby so keen for us to get it on, then?’

  ‘Libby wants Bree to lighten up. And after the night you spent at our cabin in Telluride, she got way too much information about how good you are in the sack.’ His brother sent him a furtive look that at any other time he would have found funny. ‘That actress sure could scream.’

  ‘Libby heard that?’ Shit, he could actually feel his cheeks getting warm. What was that about?

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ Jamie laughed. ‘We’re lucky you guys didn’t start an avalanche.’

  A drum roll from the other room drowned out their conversation. Then an announcement came over the PA system in a crisp, clear, efficient voice that had the short hairs on the back of Connor’s neck bristling—and heat swelling in his groin.

  ‘Ladies and gentleman, you are now invited to the main ballroom where Jamie and Libby will be doing their first dance in precisely five minutes.’

  So what the hell did he do—now he knew that Sabrina might not be such a sure bet for a no-strings booty call?

  The smart option would be to walk away. To dance that damn waltz with her and then leave her hanging. He didn’t like complications when it came to sex, and this little liaison was starting to feel a lot more complicated than he was used to.

  One of Jamie’s groomsmen emerged from the crowd now herding towards the ballroom. ‘Bree told me to tell you the first dance is about to start.’

  ‘Sure, Vik, I’ll be right there.’ Jamie turned to Connor. ‘Come on, man. Forget I said anything. Bree’s great. I’m sure whatever happens between you guys, she’ll know not to make too much of it.’

  ‘Right,’ Connor said drily, the renewed spurt of temper only confusing him more.

  Jamie chuckled, obviously immune to the subtext. ‘Hey, just do us both a favour and don’t start spanking her until you’re out of earshot of my mother.’

  The mention of the woman who had always despised him wasn’t helping the futile feeling of resentment twisting his guts into knots.

  Fuck that. Why should he walk away from Sabrina? If all she was looking for was a prize stud, that was something he could deliver. No problem.

  The bullet in his pocket and the small remote control that went with it knocked agai
nst his hip as he followed his brother into the ballroom. The two-hundred-plus wedding guests stood waiting, leaving a vacant space in the middle of the dance floor for the happy couple.

  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.’