Chapter 27 Erotic Dreams and Cold Reality
Olivia: POV
Blake and I were lying on an enormous bed, white sheets tangled around us. The room was bathed in soft, golden light that seemed to caress his skin as he suddenly rolled on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress in the most delicious way.
He pulled his shirt off in one fluid motion, revealing the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen, defined but not overly sculpted. Perfect. My fingers itched to trace those lines, to feel the warmth of his skin under my touch.
"I've wanted this for so long," dream-Blake whispered, his voice rough with desire as he lowered his mouth to mine.
I kissed him back eagerly, my arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips were soft, making my heart race and my skin tingle with anticipation.
His kisses trailed down my neck, across my collarbone, leaving a path of fire in their wake.
I shivered beneath him, arching up as his hands explored my body with confident, knowing touches.
He cupped my full breasts, squeezing them gently before rolling my nipples between his fingers, making them harden into tight peaks. "Fuck, your tits are incredible," he groaned, bending to suck one into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud while his teeth grazed it lightly, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core.
"Blake," I gasped as his fingers skimmed along my inner thigh, teasing and gentle, finally reaching my slick pussy.
He parted my folds with two fingers, stroking my clit in slow circles before sliding them inside me, curling to hit that perfect spot. "You're so wet and tight for me," he murmured against my skin, pumping his fingers rhythmically while his thumb worked my clit, building the heat.
He looked up at me, his eyes dark with want. "Tell me you want this," he said, his voice husky. "Tell me you want me."
"I want you," I heard myself say, the words spilling out effortlessly. "I've always wanted you. Please, fuck me now."
His smile was slow and predatory as he settled between my legs, his body aligned perfectly with mine.
The sensation of skin against skin was overwhelming, electric, making me dizzy with need.
He positioned his thick, hard cock at my entrance, the swollen head nudging against my wetness. "God, you're gonna feel so good around me," he said, thrusting in slowly, inch by inch, stretching my pussy with his girth until he was buried deep inside.
I moaned loudly, my walls clenching around him as he started to move, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in with deep, powerful strokes.
"You're mine," he murmured against my ear, one hand kneading my breast while the other gripped my ass, pulling me harder onto his cock. "Say it, Olivia—tell me you're mine." I wrapped my legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with my hips, our bodies slick with sweat.
"I'm yours, Blake—fuck, you feel amazing," I panted, as he pounded into me faster, his balls slapping against me with each drive. The pleasure coiled tight in my belly, building to an explosive peak.
It was everything—tender yet intense, passionate yet reverent. The way he looked at me made me feel both vulnerable and powerful, like I was the only woman in the world who could satisfy this hunger in him.
I clung to him, my nails digging into the muscles of his back as the pleasure built, coiling tighter and tighter until—
The scene shifted abruptly, the golden bedroom dissolving into a different setting entirely.
A high school classroom flooded with afternoon sunlight. Rows of empty desks, the scent of chalk dust and old books hanging in the air. And at the back of the room, two figures—a boy and a girl—their heads bent close together, silhouettes blurred against the brightness pouring through the windows.
As my eyes adjusted to the light, the figures came into focus. Blake and Sophia. Their faces were inches apart, his hand gently cupping her cheek, her eyes closed in anticipation. They were about to kiss.
I jerked awake with a gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs, my body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The sheets were twisted around my legs, and my chest heaved with rapid breaths. My skin still tingled from the ghost of Blake's touch—so vivid, so real that for a moment I could have sworn he'd actually been there.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?" I whispered to the darkness, running a trembling hand through my hair.
I threw back the covers and padded to the bathroom, flipping on the light and squinting against the sudden brightness.
My reflection stared back at me—flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, lips slightly swollen as if I'd actually been kissed. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the lingering sensations of the dream.
Leaning against the sink, I took deep breaths, attempting to slow my racing pulse. I'd just had an erotic dream about Blake Westwood. Blake, who I'd known since we were kids.
And then there was that second part of the dream—Blake and Sophia. Why had my subconscious conjured that scene? Was it dredging up old insecurities? Or was it trying to remind me why I'd never pursued anything with him all those years ago?
I returned to bed but couldn't fall back asleep. The dream images kept replaying in my mind—the heat of Blake's body against mine, the intensity in his eyes, the way he'd claimed me so completely. And then, the stark contrast of seeing him with Sophia, about to kiss her in that sunlit classroom.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered, grabbing my phone from the nightstand.
Without allowing myself to overthink it, I pulled up Blake's contact information and blocked his number. Then I opened our chat history and blocked him there too. I couldn't deal with this confusion right now. The best solution was to create distance between us. Whatever strange dynamic had been developing between us needed to stop before it complicated my life further.
Blake didn't like me. He'd told me himself he had feelings for someone else—probably Sophia, all these years later. And I definitely didn't like Blake. That dream was just my subconscious processing our recent interactions, nothing more.
I set my phone down with a sense of finality. No more Blake Westwood in my life. No more confusing dinners, no more meaningful glances, no more heart-pounding moments in cars.
I had a career to focus on, a pilot project to launch, and a life to live that didn't revolve around trying to decipher what my childhood friend might or might not feel for me.
The next morning, I strode through the doors of Radiance Inc. with renewed purpose. My hair was perfectly styled, my power suit immaculate, and my confidence firmly back in place. Colleagues nodded respectfully as I passed, and I returned their greetings with a professional smile.
"Don't waste energy on meaningless distractions," I told myself as I pushed open my office door. "You've got a company to revolutionize and a vision to bring to life."