Wild Dreams: A Friends to Lovers romance (Wilder Irish Book 12)

by Mari Carr

  “Curl your fingers. There’s one more secret place.”

  Gavin curled his fingers inside her at Oliver’s urging and found her G-spot. She jerked roughly as a last, excruciatingly beautiful spasm rumbled through her, and the world went black for one blissful moment.

  9

  “Jesus Christ,” Gavin muttered, as Erin’s inner muscles finally stopped clenching against his fingers. He started to remove them, gritting his teeth as those same muscles fluttered softly and Erin moaned once more.

  Oliver had risen at the end, wrapping his arms around Erin, who’d gone completely slack. Meanwhile, Gavin remained there, on his knees on the floor, trying to wrap his head around what he’d just experienced.

  “Motherfucker,” he murmured, as Oliver helped Erin to the bed. She was conscious but sort of out of it. She fell to the mattress like a sack of potatoes. Gavin watched it all, even though it felt as if he was having some sort of out-of-body experience.

  Once Erin was settled, Oliver returned, reaching underneath his upper arm, helping him to stand.

  “Incredible, wasn’t it?”

  Gavin thought that might be the understatement of the century, but he didn’t have enough blood pumping through his brain to do much more than curse. “Son of a bitch.”

  Oliver laughed. “Imagine how good that’s going to feel when it’s your cock instead of your fingers.”

  Gavin shook his head, unable to let himself go there. If he did, he’d come in his pants like an untried schoolboy right this second.

  Oliver directed him to the bed. Erin lay sideways on it, naked, her lower legs dangling over the edge. Her face was flushed, her beautiful dark hair spread out like a halo around her head. Her eyes were slitted open, her chest rising and falling rapidly, as if she’d just run a marathon.

  “Erin,” Gavin said, suddenly concerned he’d gone too far. He’d taken Oliver at his word, trusted him when he said she liked it rough. Gavin’s sexual experience with his male lovers had always followed that same line—there was nothing he liked more than a good hard fuck.

  “Take off your pants, Gavin,” she said, her voice hoarse from her earlier cries. “It’s my turn.” She pushed herself up on her elbows, her expression the epitome of impatience.

  Gavin hesitated, still uncertain, until Oliver slapped him on the back. “Get moving, bro, or I’m going to steal your spot.”

  “You might try,” Gavin taunted as he unbuttoned his jeans, then slid the zipper down. Erin pushed up until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. He took two steps, coming to a stop right in front of her. She reached out to grab his cock, licking her lips, her intent clear, but Gavin grasped her wrist.

  “Erin, wait.”

  He knew the second the words left his mouth it was the wrong thing to say. He’d seen the brief glimpses on her face tonight that said she was still afraid he’d come to his senses and realize he was truly gay, not bi.

  Hell, he still harbored his own fears about that, though Erin was doing a pretty good job of wiping those doubts away.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t want to stop. I just…” He ran his hand through his hair, trying to find the words. He’d never struggled to tell his previous lovers exactly what he wanted from them sexually. Though he knew that was because in the past, his emotions had never been engaged. Fucking was just that—fucking. It was easier to make demands, and to follow commands, when the sole purpose was finding sexual completion.

  Sex was simple when the only thing either partner cared about was getting off.

  Tonight…with Erin…it all mattered too much.

  “Say what you want,” Erin said.

  Gavin glanced at Oliver, who’d removed himself from the picture again. When they’d discussed how they hoped tonight would play out, Oliver had insisted that, for this first time, it should be just Gavin and Erin. His foster brother had reasoned that he’d already had sex with both of them, and they needed a chance to get to know each other—sexually—without him in the way. That had made sense this afternoon when the conversation had just been a hypothetical.

  Now that they were here, it was harder to draw a box around each part and call them separate entities.

  “I’ve had blowjobs before,” Gavin said. “I’ve never…”

  Erin ran her hands along his thighs, then glanced over her shoulder at Oliver. “Guide us through the next part.”

  Oliver nodded. “Crawl into bed, Erin.” As she shifted on the mattress, he pulled the covers down for her. Then he shook his head at Gavin, clearly annoyed. “Shit, man. Take those damn jeans off.”

  “I will if you will,” Gavin said.

  Oliver wanted to reject the request, but Gavin knew what he wanted, what he needed. If Oliver was serious about it being the three of them from now on, then dammit, there was going to be three of them in this bed tonight.

  “Ollie,” Erin whispered. “Hurry.”

  Gavin shrugged his jeans off, placing one knee on the mattress, making it clear the next move was Oliver’s.

  Oliver pulled his shirt and lounge pants off, his cock thick and hard.

  Yeah. Just as Gavin figured. Oliver would have suffered in silence the entire time.

  “Get in the bed,” Gavin said.

  Oliver grimaced. “You’re not changing the game plan,” he insisted. “At least not all of it.”

  “Is this game plan starting tonight, or should I just go on without you two?” Erin asked, drawing her fingers over her bare stomach and then lower.

  Gavin grasped her hand just before she reached her clit. “Bad girl.”

  “Oooo,” Erin said. “I like that.”

  Oliver sighed. “You tapped into that little kink of hers quick.”

  Gavin glanced up at Oliver and grinned. “She likes to be punished?”

  “Flip her over, spank her ass. Find out just how much.”

  “Goddammit,” Gavin murmured, even as he did exactly as Oliver said. Erin didn’t even bother with the slightest token of resistance. Instead, she did most of the work, twisting over, coming up on her hands and knees. Little minx even wiggled her bare ass impatiently.

  Gavin ran his hand over her smooth, silky-soft skin, loving the way his touch caused her to shiver. “This wasn’t part of the plan,” he said, even as he lifted his hand and brought it down firmly.

  Erin’s skin turned pink instantly, the color, along with her moans of pleasure, all the invitation he needed to continue. He spanked her a few more times, then lifted his chin at Oliver, urging him to get in on the action.

  Oliver climbed onto the bed, claiming the other side of Erin. “Spank her again,” he said.

  Gavin started to insist that Oliver take over, wanting to watch as much as do, but Oliver had other plans.

  Oliver drew his fingers along her slit, the touch enough to zap the strength in Erin’s arms. Her upper body collapsed to the mattress while her ass remained high, ready.

  Before Gavin could read his intent, Oliver pressed two fingers inside Erin’s pussy. “Fuck, she’s wet.”

  Oliver’s fingers were lodged deep, all the way in, but he didn’t move them. Instead, he raised one eyebrow at Gavin, his expression pure “get the fuck on with it.”

  Gavin lifted his hand again and resumed his spanking. As he peppered her ass with swats, some hard, some light, Oliver fucked her with his fingers.

  Erin met them blow for blow, her hands flat on the headboard, the hold adding strength to her backward shoves.

  She came within minutes, her body jerking roughly as her legs gave out the same way her arms had. She cried out loudly, gyrating in the most sensuous dance Gavin had ever seen. Men didn’t fucking move like that when they came. If anything, they stilled, turned to stone. He preferred her way.

  He ran his fingertips along her spine, loving the way she gave herself to the experience completely.

  Neither he nor Oliver moved as she lay facedown on the bed between them. He wasn’t sure how long they looked at her prostrate form, their own per
sonal nude goddess.

  Erin broke the silence, slowly shifting to her back. Her eyes were soft, almost dreamy, when she lifted her arms to Gavin. “I want you inside me.”

  Oliver lay down next to her, his elbow bent, his head supported on his hand. He reached out to her, cupping one of her breasts.

  Once he was in position, he wiggled his eyebrows at Gavin.

  “Comfortable?” Gavin said, his voice deadpan.

  Oliver chuckled, but Erin didn’t reply.

  Again that fear, that uncertainty, crept into her eyes. Gavin hated seeing it there. He was determined to drive it away, once and for all.

  He glanced to the side of the bed. Erin had two nightstands. For all their planning, he and Oliver had forgotten one pretty important part. “Condoms?” he asked Oliver.

  Oliver twisted and opened the drawer of the nightstand closest to him. “Oops.”

  Gavin started to take it from him, but Oliver shook his head. “Nope. If you get to change the plan, so do I.”

  Gavin went light-headed as Oliver tore the wrapper open with his teeth before pulling the condom out.

  Oliver sat up, grasping Gavin’s dick.

  “Fuck,” Gavin murmured, closing his eyes as Oliver slid the condom in place. “Have mercy, Ollie.”

  Ollie chuckled, kissing Gavin on the jaw quickly before resuming his spot on the bed next to Erin.

  She was slowly coming back to life after her second orgasm. “I’ve just glimpsed our future,” she said softly. “And it’s fucking hot.”

  Oliver cupped her breast once more, but this time he lowered his head, sucking her nipple into his mouth before murmuring, “Yeah, it is. Need directions, bro, or do you think you can take it from here?”

  Gavin narrowed his eyes, exchanging a glance with Erin. “Next time, it’s his ass we’re spanking.”

  “Deal,” she said with a giggle.

  Gavin moved as Erin parted her legs, making room for him between. Oliver released her nipple with a pop, scooting over a bit to give Gavin plenty of space.

  He gripped his dick in his hand, guiding it to the opening to her body. They shared one more look, both of them smiling almost shyly, before he slid inside.

  Gavin took his time, savoring every silky inch as he claimed it. “God, Erin,” he whispered. Her name felt like a prayer.

  She cupped his cheek, pulling him lower, drawing him into a kiss. He pressed her lips open with his, his tongue finding hers, even as he continued his journey to heaven.

  Fully seated, he lifted his head, struggling to believe he was really here. That this was happening.

  He’d actually been worried that this wasn’t really attraction.

  He’d been a fool.

  “Erin,” he said again, her name somehow freeing him. He lifted his hips, withdrew almost all the way, then powered back in. Erin lifted her legs, locking her ankles around his waist. He felt her fingers on his back, knew she was feeling his scars. In the past, that idea would have repulsed him, but now…he wanted her hands on him. Everywhere.

  He moved faster, taking her hard. Part of him wondered—worried—if it was too much. He paused for just a fragment of a second, but Oliver’s hand landed on his shoulder.

  “Don’t stop, Gavin. She’s almost there.”

  Gavin didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes, but they flew open when he felt Oliver’s knuckles brush against his stomach. Looking down, he watched as Oliver found her clit, stroking it.

  Erin’s back arched as yet another orgasm rushed through her. Her inner muscles clenched tightly, dragging him down with her.

  “Fuck,” he shouted. “Holy. Fuck!” The words were ripped out of his chest as jet after jet of come erupted, filling the condom. He briefly wondered what it would be like not to use one. He’d never fucked without a condom, but with her…

  God. He was never going to get enough of her.

  He felt Oliver’s soft kiss on his cheek. He turned, wanting more. Oliver’s lips met his, the two of them kissing roughly, hungrily.

  “So perfect,” Erin whispered, her words drawing their attention.

  “Perfect,” Oliver repeated.

  Perfect, Gavin thought as he withdrew from her, pulled off the condom, dropping it to the floor before he fell to his back, utterly replete and physically exhausted in the best possible way.

  Fucking perfect.

  10

  Oliver swallowed heavily as he looked around the pub. The place had been completely gutted, all the soot, debris, charred wood, destroyed furniture, and shattered glass cleared out. Fortunately, Caitlyn’s husband, Lucas, had a good relationship with the building inspector, who’d come to check out the building two days after the fire. Once he’d given them the all clear, assuring them the building was safe to enter, they’d gone to work on the cleanup quickly, aware that time wasn’t their friend when it came to the threat of mold and mildew.

  All that remained now was an empty shell, no walls, no ceiling, nothing to reveal what this place was or had been.

  In his mind’s eye, he let himself imagine the pub as it was just a month earlier, one night while he’d been doing a happy hour with Erin and Gavin. The place had been crowded with patrons, watching hockey on the big screen with enthusiasm—alternating between cursing and cheering. He, Erin, and Gavin had been drinking pitchers of Guinness, laughing, talking. Pop Pop had been in the middle of all the action, as always, holding court in the center of the bar, while Emmy’s fingers flew over the keyboard of her laptop from her spot at the end of the long mahogany counter, a half-full glass of white wine beside her. Padraig had been pouring drinks, telling tales, entertaining everyone with jokes and sports trivia.

  Every inch of wall space had been adorned with sports pennants, antique tin signs advertising different beers, autographed and framed photos of every famous person who’d ever walked into the pub, as well as old black and whites of Pop Pop and Grandma Sunday, back in the early days. It was incredible how many years’ worth of memories had been packed into this building, a lifetime of amassed treasures.

  And it had all been destroyed, reduced to ash in just one hour.

  He jerked slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Sorry, son. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Oliver turned and smiled at his dad, Sean. He hadn’t even heard him come in. “Guess we’re the first ones here.”

  “What about Gavin? Thought he was coming.”

  Oliver shrugged. “He was at a different work site this morning, but he was planning to be here. Maybe he got held up.”

  Dad jerked his head toward the entrance. “I just saw the Morettis pull into the parking lot across the street. You okay? You seemed pretty far away there.”

  Oliver shrugged. “Still struggling to…”

  Dad gave him a sad nod. “Yeah. It’s hard for me to see it like this too. But you and I both know J and K Construction can rebuild this place, make it even better. All new electrical wiring, plumbing. No more clogged toilets to fight with in the men’s room. No more patching that damn crack in the back wall every other year. Better lighting. Whole place has been too long overdue for a fresh coat of paint and the floors in bad need of refinishing. We can do all that now. Make this place shine.”

  “You’re right.” Oliver tried to shake off his heavy feelings. His dad always managed to find the bright side in things. And he was confident in his family’s skills when it came to the rebuild. Between that and the Moretti brothers’ talents when it came to home restorations, Oliver genuinely believed they could return the pub to its former glory. It was just his damn impatience getting the better of him.

  They turned to the entrance as Tony Moretti walked in, followed by his brothers, Joe, Luca, and Gio. Bubbles and Aunt Riley had dubbed them the Italian Stallions the first time they’d met the brothers, both of them joking that they’d wasted too many years living in Baltimore if the Morettis were the standard fare in Philadelphia.

  Oliver had to admit…Bubbles and Aunt Ril
ey weren’t wrong. All four of the Morettis were tall—well over six feet—with broad shoulders, thick muscles, eyes so dark they appeared black, and strong Italian features.

  “Down, boy,” Dad murmured, obviously noticing Oliver checking them out. Of course, he could have issued the same warning to his dad. They really were birds of a feather, something Oliver’s mom and Pop Pop had said at least a million times in the past.

  “Sean, Oliver. Good to see you both again,” Tony said, walking over, hand outstretched. They all shook hands. Layla’s brothers had spent a fair amount of time in the pub over the last couple of years, visiting their sister every two or three months. Oliver figured the reason the Collins and Moretti men had clicked so well was because they all tended to be fairly overprotective of the women in their lives. Though Layla had started joking lately that she didn’t think they were coming because they were worried about her anymore, so much as they just wanted an excuse to drink with Miguel and Finn at the pub.

  Tony glanced around the building and shook his head sadly, as Joe muttered, “Damn, I just can’t believe it. Layla said it was all gone but…still…”

  It was their first time seeing the pub since the fire.

  “I’m sorry for everything your family lost,” Gio said to Sean. “This place was special.”

  Dad smiled. “Yeah. It was. And with your help, it will be again.”

  “How’s your Pop holding up?” Luca asked.

  “He’s doing the best of all of us,” Oliver said. “Been joking lately that the fire saved him from being the first person in the world to fail at the Marie Kondo method. In Pop Pop’s world, everything sparks joy.”

  Tony chuckled. “That sounds like him.”

  Dad laughed. “Told Riley she might want to start limiting his TV time. The man is obsessed with home improvement shows these days. I’m sort of surprised he didn’t try to crash this meeting. He’s got about a million suggestions for the restoration.”