Dream Maker (Dream Team 1)

The beginning of them.

He wanted them both to be present. He wanted them both to be aware. To fall into the experience in a way they’d remember it.

Evan had other ideas, he knew it when she jacked a long leg up high and pressed it tight to his side, wound her other leg around his ass, clamped on with both hands, also at his ass, and squeezed her demand.

She wanted it that way?

Mag was all about giving his girl what she wanted.

So, he let go and rode her wild, the forearm of his healthy side in the bed to hold some of his weight, his other hand between them to make certain she got there.

She got there, fuck, and it sounded almost as good as it felt, with her dragging her nails up his spine and moaning his name low and long, her pussy closing like a fist around his cock.

And all that meant she took him there, his world minimizing to his bed, his woman, their connection, groaning his orgasm into the skin of her neck.

When he came down, he heard her heavy breaths mingling with his labored ones, felt her cunt still spasming around his dick, and the fire in his shoulder made itself known.

This meant he rolled, keeping them connected, so she was on top, and the pain eased.

Her breath breezed across his throat, her hair had come out of its knot and was all over his face, and her little tits pressed against his chest felt almost as good as her pussy wrapped around his cock.

“You didn’t answer,” he told the dark ceiling, “so I will. It’s official. I’m your boyfriend.”

She was still a second before she giggled and tilted her head to press her nose against the underside of his jaw.

“Should I make you a plaque?” she asked.

“I’ll set it on my workstation,” he answered.

She giggled again.

He gave her ass a squeeze, lifted her off and rolled her to her back beside him.

He pressed a kiss to her chest before he rolled the other way, moved through the dark to the bathroom, dealt with the condom and switched on the lights. Blinking away the bright, he had the lights on only long enough to check his bandages to make sure there was no blood and in their “shenanigans” he didn’t do any further damage.

All he saw was white, so he switched off the lights and rejoined Evie in bed.

She cuddled into him and he took her in with his hands, noting she’d put her cami and panties back on, not the shorts.

“You need your sling,” she whispered into his throat.

“Yeah,” he agreed reluctantly.

“Do you need a painkiller?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he told her even more reluctantly.

She didn’t say dick.

She kissed his jaw, slid away, left the room and he found the sling and was putting it on when she came back with a glass of water.

He clicked the thing in place. She handed him the water then reached beyond him, her body brushing his, to nab the bottle of pills.

She shook one out, handed that to him too, then did the reaching thing again to put the bottle back.

All of this even though that bottle was closer to him and he could do it.

But he sensed he shouldn’t.

This was Evie.

Like him, she needed to be taking care of somebody.

He slugged down the pill and she grabbed the covers to pull over them when he was setting the glass aside.

They settled back in, just as they had been when he woke, except with the covers on, and Mag found nothing uncomfortable about it anymore.

“That was really…wow,” she whispered to his chest.

He smiled into the dark and tightened his hold on her.

“Danny?” she called.

“Right here,” he answered.

He couldn’t see it.

But he could feel it.

His brief answer was another Toothpaste Moment. He knew it with the way she stiffened, then settled, offering him more weight.

So he was shocked as shit when she shared, “You’re really so not my type.”

He took a beat.

Then busted out laughing.

She lifted her head and he felt her watching him through the dark.

He stopped laughing when she laid her hand on his cheek, he felt the new vibe of the room and stared at her shadowed face.

“Words obviously don’t suffice. But thank you for getting shot for me.”

“Baby, it shouldn’t have gotten—”

She interrupted him to say, “You see it as a failure. What you need to see is, I’m a woman who spent her whole life twisting myself into knots trying to make people I loved love me. And now I find myself with a man who’s not only willing to take a bullet for me, he does that and ends the day throwing a shot glass across the room, angry at himself because someone harmed me.” She moved her hand to stroke his jaw and continued, “I see it from your perspective, honey. What you need to do is see it from mine, what that means to me, especially with the life I’ve led and then,” she dipped to brush her lips against his before she finished, “just let it go.”