The Best Man

The Best Man

By

Adriana Kraft

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters,
places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been
used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to
persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely
coincidental.

The Best Man

By

Adriana Kraft

ISBN 978-0-9894693-0-2

Copyright © 2013 by Adriana Kraft

B&B Publishing

1970 N. Leslie St. #560

Pahrump, NV 89060

Cover by

Dawné Dominique

DusktilDawn Designs

All Rights
Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles and reviews.

CHAPTER ONE

Groaning politely, Kitty Paige stared
at the ceiling of the hotel suite trying to encourage the young man between her
legs, who was doing his best to satisfy her. He had a ways to go.

His tongue had felt like sandpaper
when he’d made what was apparently the obligatory pass at pleasuring her
orally. At least he did have some staying power. He’d been pounding his cock in
and out of her for the past five minutes. Finesse was not her daughter’s groom’s
best man’s strong suit—selecting him was clearly not her best cougar moment.

She scowled at the plaster ceiling
swirls. She thought his name was Jason something or other.

Perhaps it was a mistake to have him
join her to finish that last bottle of champagne. Each of the four young men
standing up with Brad was a hunk, just like her soon to be son-in-law, but the
best man had caught her eye more than the others. He carried himself proudly
and appeared very agile. She’d thought he had considerable promise for one
night.

She didn’t expect to hang around Seattle longer than that. The weather was too damn dreary. As soon as her daughter and new
husband were on their way to Puerto Vallarta for their honeymoon, she’d be
heading back to Chicago—she could get a decent cup of coffee there, too.

She glanced down at the back of the
young man’s head resting on her breastplate. He seemed quite taken with
watching himself glide in and out of her. Or maybe he was trying to remember
what was supposed to happen next. She exhaled. Enough was enough.

“I’m ready, Jason.” She hoped she
had his name right. If not, he didn’t try to correct her. She tapped his butt
with her heels. He had to be ready. If she hadn’t pinched his cock earlier, he
would’ve come in her mouth when she’d gotten him wet before tugging the condom
on his shaft. “Come in me, boy.”

He lifted his head and nodded. “Yes,
ma’am.” He rose onto his hands and knees, altering his angle of penetration,
and renewed his thrusting.

She tilted her pelvis slightly and
slid a hand down between them to caress her clitoris. She wasn’t going to be
left out of this little crescendo.
He
might not know how to bring her
off, but
she
did.

“Damn, you’re hot,” he grunted,
watching her claw at her clit.

She grinned around clenched teeth
when she felt his cock expand. He made no sound. She could only hear the slap
of his hips against hers.

Her eyes popped wide open when he
abruptly pulled out of her.

“I came,” he announced. He glanced
at her fingers still working on her clit. “Wasn’t it good for you?”

Ah, hell.
She withdrew her hand. She’d take
care of it later. “Sure,” she said. “You’re quite the stud. Now I need to get
my beauty sleep to be rested for Susan and Brad’s wedding. I hope you don’t
mind, but I rest best sleeping alone.”

“No problem,” the young man said,
sitting up. “I’d better get out of here or we might be at each other all night.”

“That might be delightful, but it
would be taxing. You run along and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She watched him carefully dress. After
he buckled his belt and buttoned the last button on his shirt, he gave her a
crooked smile. “I won’t forget this night, Mrs. Paige. You were fantastic.” He
winked at her. “Hotter than your daughter.”

Kitty jerked straight up. “Hotter
than…” She covered her mouth and swallowed. “You fucked Susan.”

He frowned. “Of course. No big deal.
All the guys standing up have had her at least once. Doubt there’ll be many
guys attending the wedding who haven’t. Now she’s Brad’s exclusively. Oh well.”

Kitty tilted her head to the side. She
couldn’t think of a thing to say. He waved at her as he headed for the door. “Bye.
Susan’s hot, but you’re hotter.”

When the door shut behind her most
recent lover, Kitty slid down under the covers. She wanted to hide. She wanted
to be back in Chicago, in her own home in the north suburbs. Jesus, she’d just
fucked one of her daughter’s former lovers.

How did that make her feel? Creepy,
but then he’d made her feel creepy even before making his little comparative
announcement. Old. Damn. Was she that old? Of course she was. Her daughter was
twenty-two. She’d had her when she was nearly eighteen. She’d put too much
faith in a condom and too much faith in the high school quarterback. Damn, that
added up to forty—but she wasn’t forty yet. She had a little while left before
crossing that threshold.

She’d loved Susan with all her heart
and soul. She’d done her best to raise her well, and Susan had done well for
herself. She’d graduated with honors from Loyola with a degree in psychology. Apparently,
she’d also earned kudos for bedroom skills.

Kitty inhaled sharply. She could hardly
chastise her daughter for honing those skills. Before Susan had moved into the
college dorms, Kitty had tried to be fairly discreet with her own lovers. It
wasn’t that she wanted to hide them from Susan, but she’d chosen not to flaunt
them, either.

The girl had asked for permission to
go on the pill after her sixteenth birthday party. Susan had given her the
just
in case I do
argument. Kitty had consented. While Susan was the best thing
that ever happened to her, she didn’t wish premature motherhood on her
daughter.

Kitty peered at the door to the
suite and let out a deep sigh. That was it. She’d fucked the best man, and he’d
fucked Susan. She couldn’t take that back. He’d only given her a lot of
consternation. And she hadn’t even come.

Kitty rolled over and hugged a
pillow. She’d get through tomorrow. She’d gotten through a lot over the years. But
how could she look at the men at her daughter’s wedding without wondering which
ones had slept with the bride?

- o -

Leaning against the banquet room wall,
Jared Jacobs surreptitiously studied his prey one more time. The tall shapely blonde
in the canary yellow dress and yellow stilettos had drawn his attention from
the moment he’d seen her walking her daughter down the aisle.

She’d escorted the bride with her
chin up and with a satisfied smile on her ruby lips. Apparently she and her
daughter didn’t mind thumbing their noses at custom. Unlike many mothers of the
bride he’d seen, this one did not carry a Kleenex in her hand. She probably
didn’t have any in her tiny clutch purse, either. Tears wouldn’t come naturally
to the fair-skinned female exuding confidence at the chapel and here at the
reception.

She appeared to laugh easily enough
with acquaintances at the table where she was seated. But a careful observer
would note that her laughter seldom reached her eyes. Like him, she was a sharp
observer. She’d assessed everyone in the room, particularly the men. When her gaze
had settled on his from across the room, she’d lingered ever so briefly before
moving her attention to the person standing next to him.

 The small band began to play in
earnest. Considerable banter and movement was occurring at the head table,
where the groom helped his bride to her feet. Jared smiled. The traditional
first dance was about to begin.

He glanced back at the woman in
yellow. Why hadn’t she sat at the head table along with the wedding party and
the groom’s parents? He liked a woman who did things her way—to a point. He
welcomed a challenge of most any kind. He had little doubt the woman in yellow
would be a challenge.

No one had bothered to introduce him
to the mother of the bride. He’d made a point to find out what he could about
her. Kitty Paige lived in Chicago. Never married, she’d raised her daughter by
herself. To her credit, Susan had done well in school, in her profession and
now in marriage. Her mother had little formal education beyond high school and
apparently had no need for a husband. She certainly had no need for a husband’s
second income. According to his sources, Kitty Paige was acknowledged,
grudgingly by some, as one of the top ten most successful realtors in the Chicago area, specializing in high end residential and commercial properties. She could
likely buy and sell anyone in the room.

He smiled to himself. Well, most
anyone. Jared combed his narrow mustache with his fingers and pushed away from
the wall. The dance floor was already getting crowded.

- o -

Kitty lifted her chin as soon as the
broad shouldered mustached man headed in her direction. She knew what he
wanted. He’d been studying her much of the afternoon and evening. She was
surprised it took him this long to come after her.

She offered him a thin smile. How
many times had he undressed her in his mind? Maybe as often as she’d undressed
him. He was easy to look at. Probably late forties, early fifties at most. Fit.
No pot belly, which she despised. Graying around the temples. Square chin and a
cute mustache. Kitty shivered slightly, imagining how that Clark Gable mustache
would feel rubbing against sensitive spots.

She checked her watch and grimaced. Too
bad she was catching the redeye back to Chicago—there wouldn’t be time to
satisfy her mustache curiosity.

“May I have this dance, Ms. Paige?”

Trying to look appropriately
surprised, Kitty peered into dark brown eyes that sparkled. He clearly knew she
wasn’t surprised.

“Of course,” she said, rising to her
feet.