Orla reached the bed. She was a few steps ahead of me, but the second her back hit that mattress I was on her, my clothed body to her naked one. Faded denim and an old Pogues tee to her soft, inked curves.
My hands were everywhere, sweeping her damp skin with my rough palms, knowing she could take it. Revelling in the fact that she loved it.
That she lovedme.
Orla gripped my jaw, her long nails digging into my face, her strong gaze hooking me in. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
On purpose. I didn’t have time to get naked or I’d have left them at the door, but the craving to feel her beneath me was too strong to push down.
I reached back and grabbed the collar of my T-shirt, yanking the thing over my head in a movement more fluid than I truly felt.
Locke had me fragile already.
Orla had me in pieces at her feet.
Between her legs.
Whatever.
I chucked the tee and returned to worshipping her perfect body. Her heavy breasts and pliant belly. The silvery goddess marks on her wider hips. All while she watched me, propped up on her elbows, the only sign of her arousal her puffy lips and the heat of her skin.
My heart began to thump a heavy beat. I wove my arms beneath her thighs and clutched her hips, dragging her down the bed, her legs stretched around me as my heavier frame pinned her down.
We kissed again, a swelter brewing between us, hot enough that a bead of sweat tickled my brow.
Orla swiped it away and palmed my head, pushing me down.
I got the hint. Revelled in that shit too. I wasn’t as driven by sex as Cam and Rubes, but I was good with my mouth. Good withher. Giving her pleasure was everything to me. Watching her peak was my wildest wet dream come true.
One of them, anyway.
I let my hands graze her thighs, fingers trailing every sensitive spot until they dipped between her legs. I cupped her heat with my calloused palm and slid my legs off the bed, dropping to my knees for the only queen I’d ever need.
Back in the day, this was the part where I’d wake up with fuckingRubiin my bed instead of her, sweating and guilty. Desperate, miserable, and so goddamn sad even the fraternal comfort of my best friend couldn’t heal my bleeding heart.
Things were different now. But pressing my lips to her pussy still felt like a dream.
Thebestdream. I loved this shit. If I never fucked her again, I’d die happy with my mouth on her.
While Locke fucks her.
A groan escaped me. I teased Orla’s clit with my tongue and her back arched, her gaze still fixed on me like she heard every dirty thought passing through my messed-up brain.
Maybe she did. I knew she had these fantasies about Locke too. She’d told me. Like I’d toldher. Was she thinking of him as I searched out the magic spots that craved my touch?
It was the weirdest thing that I kinda hoped she was. That her wanting him made me want her more.
Thatmewanting him made me want to fucking devour her.
I was so goddamn hard.Painfullyhard. I adjusted my dick, tucking it into my waistband, squeezing it just once.
Masochist.
Yup. But this was about Orla, and I needed two hands.
One to spread her legs wider.
The other to ease my fingers into her wet heat.
