Best Man for Hire

by Tawna Fenske

  Anna watched him go, then turned and made her way toward the ocean. The wedding site was high up on a cliff above Hanalei Bay, with the jungle fanning out behind it in a web of lush greenery and singing birds. The scent of plumeria drifted across the breeze, and Anna combed her fingers through her hair, enjoying the way the salty sea air added waves to the otherwise stick-straight strands.

  She stepped around a fallen palm frond, making her way toward the cliff’s edge. She glanced down at her cell phone, relieved to see no messages from the DJ or florist or anyone else having a wedding-related crisis. She felt her shoulders start to relax as distant laughter rang out through the trees.

  The couple was happy. The wedding had gone off without a hitch, and if Anna’s instincts were right, Grant had gotten some great shots. True, he was a lot different from the regular photographers she worked with. Once when he knelt down to get a shot, she realized he looked more like a man aiming an assault rifle than a Nikon, but none of the guests had said anything.

  She smiled as she pictured him in her mind, his broad shoulders straining the fabric of his blue linen shirt, ripples of muscle showing beneath the material. God, what would it be like to rake her fingernails over that much flesh? Had she ever been with a man that big, that hopelessly fit? The thought was both intimidating and thrilling.

  She stepped around some sort of leafy tropical plant as the view of the bay opened up below. She stopped short on the ledge and gasped.

  “Oh,” she murmured, scanning the view.

  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the ocean sparkled like aquamarines glinting in a shower of sunbeams. A little sailboat bobbed on the horizon, and surfers rode white-capped waves to the sandy fringe of the beach.

  A thick cluster of greenery trailed up from the shore on the opposite side, and Anna spotted a little white cottage nestled among the palms. Its windows glinted in the sunlight, taking in the sweeping ocean views, while the jungle behind it cradled the little house in privacy. The effect was breathtaking. Cozy. Romantic. A beautiful place for a wedding and a honeymoon.

  You could have a small, private ceremony in the courtyard off to the side over there, with a bouquet of sunflowers and a mantilla veil and those orange-ginger cupcakes and Janelle beside you wearing—

  She frowned, shaking herself out of the fantasy.

  It’ll never be you. You’ve already had too many chances. That sort of happily ever after isn’t meant for someone with your judgment.

  With a sigh, she sat down on the edge of a large, weathered log and looked out at the house. Then she pulled her eyes away and went back to watching the sailboat inching its way across the horizon.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there when she heard the rustle of footsteps behind her. She turned to see Grant striding toward her with a camera around his neck. He smiled when he saw her.

  “Tag. You’re it.”

  “Wrong game. I think you’re supposed to say, ‘Sunbeams and light, you’re a silly sprite,’ then spin in a circle five times for Fairies in the Forest.”

  “How about I take a rain check and just enjoy the view?” He eased himself down onto the log beside her and gave a low whistle. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

  “It is. The happy couple chose well.” Anna scooted over a little on the log to make room for him. One of his massive shoulders brushed hers, and she fought the urge to sink her nails into it. “Did you get lots of pictures?”

  “Yep, check it out.”

  He flipped the camera around so she had a good look at the viewfinder. She leaned closer, her knee grazing his as he shifted his body so his elbow brushed the side of her breast. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. A perfect gentleman.

  “I got a great shot of the flower girl trying to give the ring bearer a wedgie,” he said, scrolling through the images. “And look at this one of the bride’s parents kissing behind a palm tree.”

  “Wow,” Anna breathed, reaching for the button to scroll backward through the day’s shots. “These are terrific, Grant. Really. I’m impressed with your talent. Not surprised, but impressed.”

  “Thanks.” He grinned at her. “It was fun.”

  “Yeah?”

  “More fun than I thought it would be. Good practice for Sheri’s wedding, even though I don’t get to be behind the camera for that one.”

  “You’ll be a great best man,” Anna said, looking up from the camera to see his face darken. “It’ll be nice to see you working a wedding in a different role.”

  “Right,” Grant said, frowning. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Like hell you are, Anna thought, but said nothing. She handed the camera back to him and smiled. “Nice work.”

  “Thank you.” He stuffed the camera back in his camera bag and zipped it up.

  “I looked at all the pictures on the flash drive you gave me,” she said, wondering if she should ask about the brother in the photo. “There was a lot of variety.”

  “I dumped most of my photo files on there. Probably should have taken a little time to organize things better.”

  “No, it was great. There was some family stuff on there.”

  Grant nodded, shifting a little on the log beside her. “Mac and Kelli’s engagement photos, right. I thought Janelle might want to see those.”

  “Yes.” Anna swallowed. “There were some other photos, too. I think they might have been your other brother?”

  His gray eyes locked on hers and Anna lost her breath for a moment. She tried to read what was in his expression—surprise? Embarrassment? Alarm?—but all she could see was the sea of gray sparked with silver and brown.

  Grant nodded, then cleared his throat. “Since you failed to alert me in a timely fashion when my fly was down, I don’t feel too bad about not noticing this earlier.”

  “Noticing what?”

  “You’ve got frosting on your lip.”

  “What? Where?”

  “Right here.”

  He reached out with a fingertip at the precise moment she licked her lower lip. She’d been aiming for the frosting, but got Grant instead.

  The instant her tongue made contact with his finger, Grant groaned low in his throat. “God.”

  He started to draw his hand back, but Anna grabbed his wrist without thinking. She watched his pupils dilate, and the sight of all that blackness in a sea of gray made the heat coil deep in her belly.

  Slowly, with aching deliberateness, she drew his finger into her mouth.

  “Oh, Jesus, Anna.”

  She let the digit glide against the roof of her mouth, taking her time. Then she sucked him back in, stroking his fingertip with her tongue as she drew him deeper. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste of him, marveling at the size of his hand. His fingertip nearly reached the back of her throat, and she angled her head a little to take him in.

  She slid her tongue over his knuckle and back around, sucking hard before releasing him again. Her grip was firm on his wrist, but he wasn’t trying to pull away.

  “Christ, you’re so good with your mouth.”

  She smiled around his finger, drawing him in again, knowing he was picturing her mouth around his cock.

  So was she.

  She drew back, still holding fast to his wrist, and met his eyes.

  “Want to see what else I can do with my mouth?”

  …

  Grant felt his gut clench at the boldness of her words. Or hell, maybe it was the thought of what she intended. Her mouth was inches from his fingertip, but that wasn’t where he needed it to be.

  She drew the tip of his finger into her mouth again, closing her eyes as Grant felt all the blood leave his brain. She released the pressure and drew back, then sucked him in again until he felt the tip of his finger touch the top of her throat. Her tongue was soft and warm and so goddamn wet as she slid back again and opened her eyes.

  “Tell me what you want,” she whispered.

  Grant shifted his weight on the log, trying to ease t
he pressure of the hard-on straining against his fly. “You know what I want.”

  “Duh,” she said, and somehow it was the single sexiest syllable he’d ever heard in his life. “The point is that I want to hear you say it.”

  “Anna, please—”

  She laughed and wrapped her lips around his fingertip, sliding her tongue around the length of the digit as she sucked him in again. The suction and the pressure and the warmth and the wetness was making him lose his mind.

  “Anna, please—” He groaned again.

  “Anna, please what?” she murmured, releasing his finger but not his wrist. “Say it, Grant. Come on. It does you no good to be the perfect, polite Boy Scout all the time. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  Her gaze locked on his, a challenge. Part of him wanted to get up and run from her, from this sensation, from the urge that told him to scrap all his gentlemanly inclinations and just order her down on her knees.

  Most of him really liked the sound of that last bit.

  He hesitated, then took a steadying breath.

  “Suck my cock,” he said. “Please,” he added as an afterthought.

  A slow grin spread across her face. “Well, since you’re polite about it.” She grinned wider. “Say it one more time. Please.”

  That last word sounded more like a taunt than a pleasantry coming from those perfect, pink lips. But since he urgently wanted those perfect, pink lips wrapped around his shaft, he said it again.

  “Suck me off, Anna. I want you and that perfect fucking mouth.”

  His voice was more forceful this time, and he watched her eyes flash with excitement. She licked her lips, and Grant felt his head begin to spin.

  “My pleasure.” She slid off the log and started to drop to her knees. “Or yours.”

  “Wait.”

  He caught her by the arm with one hand and reached for his camera bag with the other. He yanked open the zipper and pulled out a small orange hand towel he kept there in case of unexpected downpours.

  Or unexpected blowjobs. Whatever.

  He spread it on the ground in front of him, kicking a small pebble out of the way. Anna laughed and dropped to her knees on the towel. “Always the gentleman.”

  She reached for his fly, and there was nothing gentlemanly about the way his cock surged against the front of his shorts. Anna slid her hand over his hard-on, stroking him through the fabric. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his fly, breathing hot breath through the twill until Grant heard himself groan.

  “My, my, my,” she murmured, sitting back on her heels as she stroked him through the fly of his shorts. “That’s an impressive bulge you have there. Seems like it’s just screaming to get out.”

  “Then do it.” His words were more a growl than an actual sentence, and he couldn’t believe the sound had come from him.

  Anna grinned and gripped him harder. “Do what?”

  “Take out my cock.”

  Her eyes flashed with desire again, and he wanted to flip her around and yank up her dress to have his way with her.

  But Anna had other plans, and good manners dictated he should let her see those through.

  “Take out your cock and do what?” she purred.

  “Suck me. Hard. Please.”

  She laughed again and squeezed his balls through his shorts, making him ache with pleasure. Her nimble fingers undid the button at the top of his shorts, then dragged down the zipper with agonizing slowness. She wriggled her fingers through the fly of his boxer briefs. The instant her hand clenched around him, Grant felt all the air leave his body.

  “Jesus,” he hissed. “Yes.”

  Anna pulled his cock out through the fly, shoving the fabric back to expose him. The distant voices of the bridal party had vanished, and Grant hoped that was a good thing. At this point, he honest to God didn’t care if the whole goddamn family showed up to take video.

  Her mouth closed around the head of his erection, and Grant closed his eyes and moaned. She moved her tongue down the length of him, sucking him hard against the roof of her mouth. He’d never felt anything so warm and soft in his entire life, and he thought he might die from pleasure.

  “Christ, Anna. That feels so fucking good.”

  Her eyes were closed, but he thought he saw the edges of her mouth curve into a smile. It was hard to tell with her hair falling in her eyes, all those luscious red-gold strands drifting across her flushed cheeks.

  Grant reached down and threaded his fingers through her hair, pushing it back so he could see her beautiful face. She sucked him in deeper, and Grant felt his palms clench snug against her scalp. His fingers tangled tight in her hair, and he could feel the delicious rhythm of her head moving in his lap. She moaned and flicked her tongue over his shaft, opening her eyes to grin up at him.

  “That’s what I thought,” she murmured, her breath hot on his thigh. “Beneath that Boy Scout facade, you’re a filthy-talking, hair-pulling animal.”

  Grant blinked and started to unwind his fingers from her hair. But Anna reached up and grabbed his wrist, holding it in place. She turned her head to the side and bit his inner thigh. Hard.

  “I like this side of you, Grant.” She grinned up at him, her eyes sparking with fire. “The dark side. The side not everyone gets to see.”

  “I—”

  “Show me the rest,” she said and wrapped her lips around his cock again.

  “Anna.” He gasped, closing his eyes as she drew him into her mouth. “Your mouth is fucking magic. You make me so goddamn hard.”

  “Mmmm,” she moaned against him, and the vibration damn near killed him. His brain was starting to buzz, and there was no blood left in his hands. Whether it was the tightness of her hair around his fingers or the tightness of her mouth around his shaft, he had no idea. He didn’t care.

  “Anna, you should stop.”

  “Mm-mm,” she murmured around him, a moan or a refusal?

  “Anna, I’m going to—”

  His voice broke there, whether from the pressure of her tongue on his cock or a reluctance to say the words, he wasn’t sure. She was sliding faster now, so hot and wet and tight and—

  “Anna, Christ, you’re going to make me come.”

  She dug her nails into his thighs, anchoring him there so that even if he wanted to pull back, he couldn’t. Grant heard a strangled cry he realized was his own voice.

  Sparks exploded in his brain and then from his fingertips and toes and every exposed inch of skin. He closed his eyes and gasped again as he surged and throbbed and pulsed hard and hot in her mouth.

  When it was all over, Anna drew back and grinned at him. “That was fucking fantastic.”

  Grant gasped, too stunned and shell-shocked to move. “Holy hell.”

  She laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Can I get you some water or something?”

  “Shut up, Grant.”

  There was no venom in her voice, and she was flushed and smiling as he slid his hands from her hair to cup her face. She blinked up at him with eyes so green he felt himself melt into them. “Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he choked out. “And amazing. And so fucking good at that I can’t see straight.”

  She laughed and sat back on her heels. “Seeing you lose control like that? Hottest. Thing. Ever.”

  He dropped his hands from her face and shook his head. Reaching for his fly, he tucked himself back into his boxer briefs while Anna sat on her heels watching him. His breathing was almost back to normal, so he started to zip up, then decided it was more polite to help her up first. He held out his hand and she took it, her fingers small and warm in his.

  He’d just begun to hoist her to her feet when she screamed.

  Chapter Eight

  The pain that radiated from Anna’s right butt cheek was like nothing she’d felt before.

  “What the fuck?” she screamed, rocketing to her feet like a hive of bees dipped in molten lava had just tunneled beneath her dress. Grant gripp
ed her hand as she shrieked again, but all Anna wanted was to get away from the searing pain that speared her haunch.

  “What is it? What happened?” His eyes were frantic as he scanned her for damage. Seeing her hand beneath her dress, he registered surprise. Then horror.

  “Oh, shit.” He looked down at the ground, kicked over a fallen palm frond, cursed again.

  “Something stung me,” Anna cried, still trying to figure out how she’d gone from post-blowjob bliss to brutal agony in five seconds.

  Okay, maybe she was being a little dramatic. Still, it hurt like hell.

  “A centipede.” Grant stomped his foot on something, muttering as he stomped again. “Got it.” He turned back to her, his brow furrowed and eyes wide with worry. “Let me see.”

  Anna stopped rubbing her butt cheek and blinked at him. “I’m not flipping up my dress in the jungle.”

  “For crying out loud, Anna. Considering where your mouth was ten seconds ago, I think we’re on familiar enough terms for me to see your butt.”

  Anna opened her mouth to say something sassy in retort, but another surge of stinging pain rocketed through her muscle and she cried out again. Grant grabbed her by the waist and flipped up the hem of her dress. She’d imagined exactly that scenario for the last thirty minutes, but this wasn’t how she’d pictured it.

  “Ouch!”

  “Hold still, it’s the right side?”

  “Yes,” she whimpered, wishing her voice didn’t sound so pitiful.

  “Thank God for thong panties. I can see the bite right there. Two little punctures like a snakebite.”

  “It’s a bite? Not a sting?”

  Grant let go of her and shook his head, his eyes scanning the ground around them. “Centipedes bite, or at least the ones on Hawaii do. It’s very toxic and painful as hell.”

  “No kidding.” Anna swallowed and tried to keep her hands from shaking. “Am I going to die?”

  “No. It’s not fatal. Not unless you have other medical issues like an allergy to bee stings?”

  He was walking in circles, looking up at the treetops above them, then down at the ground again. Anna rubbed her butt and winced again.