Wild at Heart by Mari Carr

Author:Mari Carr [Carr, Mari]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mari Carr

8

Asher wanted to kick his own ass the second he’d suggested no sex. Not because it wasn’t the right thing to do, but because it was going to leave him in some serious physical pain later on. Blue balls weren’t a good thing. Ever.

Regardless, he would deal with it because he wasn’t going to screw up this chance with Fiona.

And Owen.

Asher had to keep remembering that Owen was a part of this too.

He’d like to say having his best friend in the room with them was a turn-on, but it wasn’t. However, it wasn’t a buzzkill, either. It was just…different. Something that would take some getting used to.

He hoped he got used to it.

The twinges of jealousy he felt watching Owen as he kissed her or touched her were still there, but it was getting easier to push the feeling away.

Okay. It wasn’t easier, but he’d get there. He had to. He was as committed to protecting his friendship with Owen as he was to claiming Fiona’s heart.

And it wasn’t like his sex life hadn’t been one big experiment in exploration anyway. Christina Saunders hadn’t only been his Creative Writing teacher, she’d been his instructor in the bedroom as well. She’d exposed him to tantric sex, guided him through most of the positions in the Kama Sutra, and as a member of a local sex club, she’d enrolled them in classes on shibari and wax play.

The more he learned, the more his dominant side began to emerge—a fact that delighted Christina as much as it bothered her.

She enjoyed his dominance in the bedroom—on occasion—but it wasn’t something Asher could turn on and off. And that was when they’d both realized the pupil had outgrown the teacher.

Unfortunately, he and Christina had never brought another person to the bed, never included another man—or woman—in their play. So he was going to have to figure this one out on his own.

Owen stopped playing with her breasts, his gaze glued to where Asher’s hand had slipped beneath Fiona’s thong.

She was absolutely beautiful, Asher’s idea of feminine perfection, though he knew there were parts of herself that she viewed as anything less than ideal. Her plump, full breasts fit his hand perfectly, while her figure was more straight than hourglass. She sometimes mentioned her longing for curves. Every time she did, he’d reminded her she was jogging them off. He wasn’t wrong. Her legs were lean, slim, muscular, and he’d give a million dollars right now to have them wrapped around his waist. Or his shoulders.

“Grab her wrists, Owen. Hold them above her head.”

Owen didn’t hesitate to do as asked. Asher dreamed of tying Fiona to his headboard, of keeping her on the edge of a climax for hours while he—fuck, they—played with her. She liked it when he pulled her hair. It gave him hope that she’d like to try other, kinkier things.

Fiona was a true Collins, a grab-life-by-the-horns type of girl. In truth, it wasn’t her penchant for bedroom adventures he was worried about.

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