Page 61 of All The Pretty Little Lies

His eyes soften, and he leans down to press his forehead against mine. "Are you sure? We can wait if you're not ready."

I shake my head, my fingers trailing down his chest. "I don't want to wait. I want to feel you. All of you."

Oscar's response is a low groan that sends shivers down my spine. He captures my lips in a searing kiss, his body pressing me deeper into the mattress. I can feel the hard length of him against my thigh, and a thrill of anticipation courses through me.

With trembling hands, I tug at the hem of his shirt. Oscar breaks the kiss long enough to pull it over his head, revealing an expanse of toned muscle and smooth skin. I run my hands over his chest, marveling at the warmth radiating from him.

Oscar's fingers find the straps of my nightgown, sliding them down my shoulders with agonizing slowness. His lips follow the path of the fabric, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When the gown pools around my waist, I resist the urge to cover myself, instead reveling in the way Oscar's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of me.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "So damn beautiful."

His hands and mouth explore every inch of newly exposed skin, leaving me gasping and arching beneath him. When his lips close around a sensitive peak, I cry out, my fingers tangling into his hair to hold him close.

Oscar lavishes attention on my breasts, alternating between gentle kisses and teasing nips that have me squirming with need. His hand slides down my stomach, dipping between my legs once more. I'm already slick with arousal, and his touch sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me.

Just as I'm about to tumble over the edge, Oscar withdraws his hand. I whimper at the loss, but then I feel something else pressing against me, hot, hard, and much larger than his fingers.

"Oscar," I plead, my hips rocking against his hand. "I need you. Please."

His eyes meet mine as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of his sweatpants. "Are you absolutely sure, Vesper? We can stop at any time."

In response, I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Yes," I breathe. "I'm sure."

Oscar nods, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness. He sheds the last of his clothing, and I can't help but stare at hisnaked form, a work of art sculpted from marble. He positions himself between my thighs, the blunt head of his arousal pressing against my entrance.

"This might hurt a little," he warns, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Tell me if you need me to stop."

I nod, bracing myself for the pain I've heard so much about. Oscar pushes forward slowly, stretching me in a way I've never experienced before. There's a moment of sharp discomfort as he breaks through my barrier, and I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.

"Breathe, Vesper," Oscar murmurs, staying perfectly still. "Just breathe through it."

I focus on his voice, on the warmth of his skin against mine, and gradually, the pain subsides. In its place, a new sensation blooms, a delicious fullness that has me craving more. I roll my hips experimentally, drawing a groan from Oscar.

"You feel incredible," he whispers, his forehead resting against mine. "So tight, so perfect."

Encouraged by his words, I move again, and this time Oscar responds, pulling back slightly before pushing in deeper. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through my body, and I moan, arching into him.

Oscar sets a gentle rhythm, each thrust slow and deliberate. His eyes never leave mine, watching for any sign of discomfort. But all I feel is an ever-building pleasure, a warmth that spreads from where we're joined to the tips of my fingers and toes.

As my body adjusts to his size, the initial discomfort fades entirely, replaced by a burning need for more. I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, urging him deeper. "Faster," I plead, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears. "Please, Oscar."

He obliges, increasing his pace. The room fills with the sound of our mingled breaths and the soft creaking of the bed. Oscar'shand slips between us, his fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, and I cry out at the dual sensation.

The pleasure builds higher and higher, a tidal wave threatening to crash over me. Oscar's thrusts become more erratic, his breathing ragged against my neck. "Come for me, Vesper," he groans. "Let go. I've got you."

His words, combined with a particularly deep thrust, send me over the edge. The world explodes, pleasure radiating from my core in pulsing waves. I cry out Oscar's name, clinging to him as I ride out the most intense orgasm of my life.

Oscar follows me over the precipice moments later, his body tensing above me as he finds his release. He collapses onto me, his weight settles on top of me, and I feel a sense of completeness I've never known before. His breath is warm against my neck, our bodies still intimately joined. For a long moment, we simply lie there, basking in the afterglow of our shared pleasure.

When Oscar finally lifts his head, his blue eyes meet mine, filled with a tenderness that makes my heart ache. He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch impossibly gentle. "Are you okay?" he asks softly.

I nod, unable to find words to express the swirl of emotions coursing through me. Joy, contentment, a hint of lingering pleasure, and something deeper – something I'm not quite ready to name.

Oscar carefully withdraws from me, and I wince slightly at the loss. He immediately looks concerned, but I shake my head, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine," I whisper. "Just a little sore."

He leans down to place a soft kiss on my forehead. "That's normal. Wait here."

I watch as he slips out of bed, admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moves. He disappears into the en-suite bathroom, returning moments later with a warm washcloth.With infinite care, he cleans between my thighs, his touch clinical yet somehow still intimate.

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