Wild Dreams: A Friends to Lovers romance (Wilder Irish Book 12), Mari Carr [motivational books for men .TXT] 📗

She slid her pants and panties off together, toeing off her fuzzy socks as well. She stood in front of him, letting him look his fill. There was no embarrassment between them, no shyness. There never had been.

Erin was curvy—okay, chubby—but Oliver had never made her feel self-conscious about that. Instead, he looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman on the planet.

“You get more gorgeous every single day,” he said, stepping closer.

She lifted herself up on tiptoe, tilting her head back for his kiss. Oliver had a good six inches on her height-wise. That, combined with his broad, muscular shoulders—his job working construction had honed his body until it was chiseled, rock hard, perfect—never failed to make her feel tiny, almost petite.

Oliver’s kiss was rough, hungry. Sometimes, he liked to draw the foreplay out, keeping her on the edge of her orgasm for hours, until she was panting, begging. Other times, like tonight, his own needs were too strong and he gave into them, taking her hard, quick.

“Go lay down on the bed. Legs open.”

She climbed into the middle of his mattress, giving him a bird’s-eye view of exactly what she was offering. He shed his own clothing quickly before crawling over her body. He ran his fingers along her slit, grinning as he lifted his fingers and let her see how slick they were.

“Always so ready for me, sweet girl.”

Erin wrapped her hands around his neck, trying to draw him down to resume their kisses, but he locked his arms, refusing to budge.

“Take my cock in your hand, Erin. Show me where you want me.”

She reached between them, guiding him to her pussy.

“Please,” she whispered.

He shifted until the head was lodged just inside her. “Need you so much tonight.”

“Take me.”

Oliver thrust deep, filling her in an instant. He didn’t give her time to acclimate, to adjust. Instead, he gave her exactly what she wanted. He pounded inside her roughly, grasping her legs to lift her hips from the mattress, to open her even more for his passionate assault.

“God!” she cried when he stroked her clit with his thumb. Oliver knew exactly where and how to touch her, knew how to send her orbiting into space within minutes.

Her back arched and she saw stars as her orgasm exploded. Her climax didn’t slow him down. He didn’t miss a step, never paused for a moment, as he fucked her straight through it.

Erin used to insist she needed time to recover between, but Oliver had taught her differently, had shown her just how high he could push her. One orgasm morphed into a second, harder one.

She closed her eyes, cursing. “Fuck,” she said through gritted teeth. “Fuck me.”

Her nails scored his shoulders and she heard his hiss of pain. A drop of sweat rolled down his cheek and she reached up to wipe it away. He’d shaved during his shower, his face smoother, though it never really lost that rough sandpaper feel she adored.

Oliver’s brown eyes held her gaze, and she was blown away by the unadulterated love she found there.

Oliver was her person. Her forever person.

If only…

Gavin’s face flashed in her mind…just as it always did at this moment.

No matter how many times, how many ways she and Oliver came together like this, she always thought of him as they approached the end.

And she wasn’t alone.

“I know,” Oliver whispered. “He should be here with us. Say his name, sweet girl. Say it.”

It was becoming their ritual lately. The first few times Oliver had made this demand, she’d refused. Not because she didn’t want the same thing he did, but because she didn’t believe it would happen.

God, she still didn’t believe it.

It was easier for Oliver because Gavin did want him, did love him. She’d seen the glances the two men had exchanged, felt the longing between them.

Gavin didn’t look at her that way. He never had. And he never would.

Regardless, Oliver had worn down the part of her that knew better than to bet on a long shot, that was careful with her heart. And so she gave him what he asked for.

“Gavin should be here,” she whispered.

Oliver kissed her. “I love you, Erin,” he said as his body tightened, a sign that he was close. Very close.

He stroked her clit again, determined to ring a third orgasm from her too-sensitive body.

“Ollie. God. Ollie!”

They came together as he dropped lower, kissing her through it.

“Yippee ki yay,” he murmured, mimicking Bruce Willis from the movie, before withdrawing and shifting to her side. “I am never going to want to stop doing that. Gonna want to do that on my death bed.”

She laughed. “You’re insane. But yeah. Same. Can I go to sleep now?”

He kissed her on the cheek, turned off the lamp by the bed, and was probably asleep before she’d even managed to pull up the covers.

It felt like she’d just closed her eyes when the quiet, peaceful night was pierced by a painfully loud sound.

5

Oliver’s eyes flew open, his hands reaching over to the nightstand to slap his cell phone. It took a second or two more before he realized it wasn’t his phone that was blaring.

It was a fire alarm.

Erin was sitting up, looking around the room, as disoriented as him.

“What…” she said groggily.

He heard footsteps pounding down the hallway, and Gavin threw his bedroom door open so hard, it slammed against the wall, bounced off, and nearly closed on him again.

“Wake up!” Gavin said. “Fire.”

Oliver jumped out of bed, searching for his pajama pants. He and Erin had fallen asleep after sex, both of them curling into each other’s arms naked. As he pulled up his pants, he saw Gavin racing to the side of the bed, grabbing Erin’s clothing off the floor as he did so. His foster brother was in the lounge pants and T-shirt he always slept in, barefoot.

Gavin pulled Erin’s T-shirt over her shoulders as she slid to the edge of the bed.

“You gotta