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My Wildest Fantasy 3
Copyright © 2015 Kelli Wolfe
Published by Pink Parts Press
All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced in any form or by any means, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.
All characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters depicted are 18 years of age or older.
She was like a drug I was addicted to.
I wanted more—didn’t know if I’d ever be able to get enough of Callie. But Olivia had almost walked in on us while I was doing filthy things to her sweet, innocent daughter, and the last thing I wanted to do was give her a second chance to catch us together. Almost twenty years had passed since Olivia went from being my best friend to being the “woman scorned” and devoted herself to ruining me. But today she isn’t acting like she hates me.
“I really am glad you’re home, Blake.”
Why has she done a one-eighty on me? Is she just toying with me? Or has she decided that she wants a do-over of that Christmas night of twenty years past? I don’t know which of them is more stubborn. How many times can Callie sneak into my room before her mother catches us? What’s going to happen if Olivia catches me alone?
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My Wildest Fantasy 3
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“Callie! Mom’s back, sweetheart!”
Callie’s eyes widened and a look of panic swept over her pixie face. No doubt it was mirrored on my own as I sprang up and frantically dove for my clothes. Having started with less to begin with, Callie dressed more quickly and scrambled for the remote to change the channel from the softcore porn she had been watching to a more parent-friendly home renovation show.
I pulled my shirt over my head and squirmed into my jeans, wincing a little as the rough denim rubbed against my wet, still-erect cock. I had no idea where my underwear had disappeared to. My socks went into my shoes, and I held onto those as I took a couple of hasty steps back towards the kitchen. Callie hopped back onto the couch and frantically smoothed her sleep shirt down over her thighs. She had just enough time to turn towards the doorway before Olivia swept in and flipped on the lights.
The seven years which had passed since I last saw her had left her almost untouched. Not a hint of gray sullied her dark golden curls, and her patrician face remained smooth and unlined. Maybe she had gained a couple of pounds, but they were in all the right places and only enhanced her already devastating sex appeal. She was taller than her daughter, with darker hair and toasted brown skin rather than Callie’s pale honey tan, but they both shared a primal sexiness that went far past looks alone. Even though they looked practically nothing alike, seeing them together it was apparent that they had been cast from the same mold.
Olivia bent over the couch to give her daughter a quick hug then turned to me with a cool, measuring look. I steeled myself for one of her usual vitriolic outbursts, but to my surprise her lips quirked up and she favored me with a wry smile.
“You’re looking well, Blake. Australia seems to have suited you.”
“Thanks,” I stammered, unsure how to deal with Olivia being pleasant. “You’re looking pretty good yourself.”
I could have kicked myself the instant the words left my mouth. Given our history, the last thing I wanted was to hand her compliments or to give her any opening that she could exploit as a weakness. But again she surprised me when her smile broadened and she raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
“Do you really think so? It always seemed so unfair that when men hit their forties they’re in their prime, while when a woman hits the big four-oh she’s just… old.”
Olivia didn’t look old. She looked every bit as scrumptious as her daughter. Of course that was the problem—she always had, and I had noticed. Damn, had I noticed.
“At any rate, it’s sweet of you to say so.” Before I knew what she was about, she had stepped up and embraced me in a brief, tight hug. “Welcome home, Blake.”
I gobbled air, completely speechless. Who the hell was this, and what had she done with the real Olivia? Whoever she was, just the scent of her perfume was better than a double dose of Viagra. My cock, which had been buried to the balls in her daughter only minutes before, twitched sharply in my jeans.
Leaving one hand tucked around my waist, she turned back to Callie, who had watched this little byplay with rapt interest. “So what are you up to, moppet?”
A wrinkle of annoyance formed between her daughter’s brows at the nickname. “Oh, I was just watching some TV after I came in from my date,” she said nonchalantly. Butter wouldn’t have melted in her mouth. “Blake had stopped by to check up on me and say goodnight on his way to bed.”