by BJ Bentley
May the Best Man Win
BJ Bentley
© 2019 BJ Bentley
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
The characters in this book are completely fictional. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is completely unintentional.
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Follow BJ on Social Media!
Dedication
To all the big-brained nerdy girls.
#science
Prologue
July
Sophie
“...And so, even though we may or may not carry on the tradition of naked tequila shots in the hot tub on spring break, may April and Johnny’s marriage be far more sweet than salty. To April and Johnny!”
“To April and Johnny!” the crowd echoed.
I threw back my Champagne and darted another glance at the clock, counting down the minutes until I could get out of these pantyhose. I loved my sister dearly, but my duties as Maid of Honor could not come to a close fast enough. I was particularly looking forward to not having to deal with the infuriating best man any longer.
Speak of the devil. “So, what did you think?” he asked, leaning in to rumble in my ear.
Since the bride and groom opted to have a sweetheart table as their focal point, the rest of the bridal party sat together at a separate table. And, unfortunately for me, that meant having to sit directly next to the aforementioned best man.
Damon Hatch. Impossibly good looking. Ridiculously wealthy. Aggravatingly egotistical. And infuriatingly tenacious.
“Not bad,” I allowed. Truthfully, his best man speech was both heartfelt and funny. The perfect combination to complement all that was April and John. It was touching and impressive. No way in hell I was telling him that, though.
“Aw, c’mon, doll, you can do better than that,” he drawled.
Yes, drawled. His Texas roots were most prominent when he was trying to get his way. And by ‘his way,’ I meant, up my skirt.
“Admit it. I killed that speech,” he cajoled.
I rolled my eyes. I’d been dealing with Damon’s incessant flirting for the past week, and I was so far beyond over it, it was laughable. I shrugged. “Mine was better.”
Damon threw back his head and laughed, showcasing the corded muscles of his neck. “Alright, doll. I’ll let you have that one.” His hand lifted to casually sweep a lock of his rich brown hair back from his forehead.
God, even his laugh was attractive. Low, throaty, and full-bodied. And that hair was something a girl’s fingers could bury themselves in. I caught myself staring, which just further annoyed me. I heaved a disgusted sigh and stood, making my way to the open bar for something a little stronger than the bubbly I’m sure I would have tasted had I bothered to sip it rather than pouring it down my throat like it was my first drink of water after a round of HIIT.
“Tennessee Honey, please. Neat,” I instructed the bartender.
“So, you like the sweet stuff, huh?” said a voice a little too close to my ear.
I turned to see a face that was vaguely familiar but not ringing any bells. Obviously, someone on John’s side of the family. I gave a small smile in response.
“Aw, don’t be shy,” he slurred slightly. “Come on, dance with me.” He grabbed my arm, attempting to pull me toward the dance floor with all the grace of a drunk flamingo.
“No, thank you. I really don’t want to dance right now,” I declined, pulling my arm from his grip.
“Yeah, ya do. Let’s go.” He grabbed me again. This time his grip was tighter, and I couldn’t hide my wince.
“I believe the lady said no, friend,” Damon’s smooth baritone cut in.
I watched him place a hand on the other guy’s chest and firmly push him back a step. Unfortunately, the guy’s grip on my arm didn’t loosen, and I went with him. My gasp brought Damon’s whiskey colored gaze to me briefly before addressing the overzealous party-goer once more.
“Let go of the lady,” he said, his steely tone not one any sober person would challenge.
“Or what, friend?” And this guy was clearly not sober.
“Or things are going to get unfortunate for you.” Damon shrugged as though stating a simple and obvious fact.
“Yeah? You threatening me?” The idiot dropped his hold on me in order to raise his fists.
Damon took that opportunity to sweep his gaze over me, seemingly making sure that I was indeed alright, before turning back to the handsy prick. “I suggest you walk away, friend. Find a lady who’s actually willing to let you paw at her.”
“Whatever, asshole,” the guy muttered as Damon turned his back on him like he didn’t matter. Because in Damon’s world, he didn’t.
“You okay, doll?” he asked, genuine concern in his eyes as he wrapped his fingers around the back of my neck.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks,” I mumbled grudgingly.
Damon’s lips twitched slightly. “Any time I can be your hero, you let me know.”
“Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes, not for the first or last time that evening.
“You know, aren’t damsels in distress supposed to thank their knight in shining armor properly? With a kiss?”
“You’re impossible,” I huffed.
“You’re incredible,” he shot back.
I small-eyed him over the rim of my glass. “No kiss. One dance.” I don’t know what possessed me to make that offer, but once the words were out of my mouth, I refused to back down. Men like Damon were shrewd and able to zero in on any perceived weakness with a singular focus. I wasn’t about to give him any kind of advantage.
His eyes widened in surprise slightly before he schooled his features back into the mask of confidence he always wore. “Done,” he blurted out like he was afraid I might change my mind.
I probably should have.
I threw back my whiskey, flinching as it burned a path down my throat, and plunked my glass down on the nearest table. “Let’s do this,” I said, indicating the dance floor with a sweep of my arm.
Damon’s fingertips grazed my hips as he brought his hands to my waist. The touch was seemingly innocent, yet sensual, and I couldn’t stop the shiver that snaked down my spine. I knew he felt it too, when his hands flexed and he pulled me further into his orbit. There was so little space between us, it was almost indecent. I looped my
arms around his neck, bringing us chest to chest. I could see the heat in his eyes as well as the victory. He was so damn sure of himself, he thought he’d actually won. I was determined to burst his bubble.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I declared, earning a low chuckle that I felt in my chest since we were pressed so closely together. My nipples tightened in response.
“Ah, doll,” he shook his head.
“What?” I looked at him in confusion.
“You’ll give in,” he assured me.
“Really?” I dragged the word out, letting him hear the skepticism in my tone.
He nodded once. “I always get what I want. You know why?”
“Because you’re super annoying, and people would rather just give in just to get rid of you that much sooner?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Because I’m determined.”
“Like a persistent wedgie?”
His jaw clenched, but I wasn’t sure if he was trying to contain his anger or his laughter.
“I’m relentless,” he corrected. “And when it comes to getting your sexy body beneath me, I am single-minded. Stubborn. Obsessed.”
I licked my lips, questioning my own resolve in resisting his advances if he really was as determined as he’d have me believe. Give no quarter, I reminded myself. “You forgot egotistical, narcissistic, and delusional,” I snorted.
A wolfish grin spread slowly across his face, drawing my attention to the sharp lines of his square jaw. “Game on.”
***
Damon
Sophie James fascinated me. I had yet to meet a woman that I could not seduce. In fact, I’d never had to put this much effort into it before. Women typically just fell into my bed, or at the very least, fell all over themselves to get my attention. Sophie, it seemed, was determined to be a challenge.
She was beautiful. Tall, blonde, and busty, she was far more intelligent than any stereotype would allow. She was funny, too. She loved her sister, April, dearly. She seemed to be the perfect girl. It really was a shame that as soon as I got her into my bed and wrecked her body, that the novelty would wear off, as it always did. No one woman ever held my attention for very long.
I wasn’t exactly a stereotypical manwhore, though I had the undue reputation of being one. I wasn’t a fan of one night stands, but I was a serial dater. I took a woman out a few times, making sure to keep things casual before ending it and moving on. Relationships were a luxury I didn’t allow myself. There was too much at stake. Besides, I already had one girl in my life who shined brighter than the sun and the moon together, and she was the most important star in my sky.
“Hands off my ass, Damon,” Sophie hissed.
I gave both globes a firm squeeze before sliding my hands up over her hips to circle her waist.
“I’m regretting this already,” she muttered, and I bit back my smile.
“Are you not enjoying the pleasure of my company?”
“Is that supposed to be your innocent look?” She peered up at me. “‘Cause it sucks.”
“I really wish you’d just let me fuck you senseless. Might loosen you up a bit,” I baited her.
“God, you’re so crude. And who says I need to loosen up? I’m plenty loose.” She clamped her mouth shut when she realized what she’d said.
I laughed, thoroughly enjoying her discomfort.
“Shut up. I hate you.”
“Ah, doll. Come on. Even you had to admit that was pretty perfect.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Sophie,” I cajoled. “Have some fun with me.”
“There are plenty of other willing women here. Look around, Damon. They’re easy enough to spot. They’re all shooting daggers at me right now.”
“I don’t want them, Sophie. I want you.”
“For how long,” she asked, exasperated and already knowing what my answer was.
“For the night. Just give me one night, and then you never have to see me again.” Okay, that was a lie on so many levels. Her sister just married my best friend. It stood to reason we’d be seeing a lot of each other over time. Plus, Sophie was magnetic. I doubted one night would be enough, and I had a feeling I’d be back to begging for her attention first thing in the morning.
I could tell by her expression she knew I was full of it, so imagine my surprise when she agreed.
“Okay. One night.”
That was the second time in the evening Sophie James surprised the hell out of me. I was thrilled I’d just gotten what I wanted, even though it shocked the hell out of me. I pulled her arms from around my neck and raised her hands to my mouth for a kiss. “Let’s get the hell out of here, then.”
I had a room in the hotel that was hosting the wedding, so our destination was a short elevator ride away. Reaching room seven-oh-nine, I swiped my key card and let us in. My hands itched to glide over her curves and my tongue begged to get in her mouth. I wanted to spread her out on my bed and taste and touch every square inch of her. I wanted to taste her arousal on my tongue when she came. I wanted- “What are you doing?” So lost in my fantasies of what I wanted to do to her, I had barely registered that she was standing in the middle of the room casually stripping of her dress.
“Getting naked,” she said in a tone that suggested that maybe I was a little slow.
“I wanted to do that,” I all but whined, which was ridiculous because I didn’t whine about anything, ever. Shit happened and you either dealt with it or moved on. You certainly didn’t whine about it.
“Yeah, well, you’re not moving fast enough.”
“What’s the hurry?”
Sophie looked at me askance. “I came up here with you so you could fuck me. This isn’t a seduction scene. Let’s go,” she said turning her hand over in a ‘hurry up’ motion.
I frowned. I’d never had a woman treat sex with me like a chore before. “Wait,” I blurted as she pulled her pantyhose off, leaving her in a bra and panties. “Slow down. There’s no reason why we can’t enjoy this time together.”
“I would be enjoying it if you’d stop talking and get naked,” she shot back.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. How had I lost control of the situation? What was happening here? “Sophie,” I wrapped my hands around her shoulders, “let me make you feel good.”
She raised her brow.
“I want to give you the full Damon Hatch experience.”
“I don’t want it if it includes you referring to yourself in the third person,” she scoffed.
With my words clearly not helping the situation, there was only one thing left to do in order to get my point across. I kissed her. I grabbed her face and plundered her mouth. Licking, sucking, biting. A sensual dance of taste and touch. Sophie melted into me and moaned. My hands lifted to let down her hair, but I struggled with the ridiculous amount of bobby pins.
“Just leave it,” she breathed, swatting my hands away.
Her hands went to my belt, unbuckling it and my pants. One hand dove into my boxers, gripping my cock in her tight grasp.
“Sophie,” I groaned as she stroked me. “Doll, slow down, or I’m going to blow in your hand.”
She pulled her hand out and shoved my pants down, managing to maneuver us so I had my back to the bed. With her hands to my shoulders, she gave me a shove, sending me back onto the king sized mattress. She had chucked her panties in the time it took me to sit up so I could watch her.
“Condom?”
“Wallet.” I pointed to my pants.
I watched her get the condom out and tear the package open with her teeth. I had the strangest thought that this was going way too fast, but I figured I’d make it up to her after the first time. She rolled the condom down my shaft and leapt up into my lap. With absolutely no ceremony or further preparation, she lowered herself and took all of me in one fell swoop. She winced slightly at my invasion.
“Fuck, baby, were you even ready?”
“Shh.” She lifted herself up and back down again, beginning to ri
de me and keeping her eyes closed.
I tweaked her nipples through her bra, but she pushed my hand down to her clit with impatience.
“Rub my clit, Damon.”
I frowned but did as I was told. I rubbed her in tight circles while she rode me, biting her lip and barely making a sound when she came.
“Come on, Damon, your turn,” she grunted as she kept moving.
This was all wrong. I mean, I was going to come purely because I was inside a beautiful woman and she was riding me like I was a prize bull. But for the first time ever, I felt...used. She wasn’t there in the moment with me. She was just using me to get off, and I’d let her. It was cold and impersonal. And I hated it.
I grunted my release a few minutes later, and I’d no sooner done so, than Sophie was climbing off of me.
“Sophie, what the hell was that?”
“Sex, Damon. That’s what they call ‘sex.’”
“No, Sophie, I mean, you were like a robot. Just going through the motions. Did you even enjoy it at all?”
She looked at me with wide eyes and an open mouth. “I came, didn’t I? What more do you want, Damon?”
“Christ, Soph! You know, I may not be a relationship type of guy, but at least I treat the women I sleep with like human beings. I care that they enjoy what we’re doing.”
“Did you not enjoy it, Damon? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure you came too,” she snarked, pulling her panties back on and shaking out her dress.
“Of course I came. It’s a biological reaction to stimuli.” I could see my sarcasm was cutting her, but I was too worked up to care. “You surprised me, Sophie. I didn’t expect you to be so cold.”
Sophie finished pulling her dress on. “Yeah, and you’re still the biggest dick in Dickville. Goodbye, Damon.” Snatching up her shoes at the last second but leaving her pantyhose behind, she let the door slam shut behind her as she left.
Chapter 1
September
Sophie
The first week of school was my favorite time of the year. I had twenty-five names to learn and match with faces. Twenty-five new personalities to get to know. Twenty-five minds to educate. Twenty-five little lives to help mold. Some might find that prospect intimidating, but I found it exhilarating. I had an entire second-grade classroom full of modeling clay just waiting to be shaped, and my fingers tingled with the anticipation of a new project. Or, rather, twenty-five new projects.
