Page 100 of Charming Like Us
Jesus fuck.
I bury my head into the pillow as he starts moving his finger deeper and faster. Another groan strangles me. “Os,” I choke out his name like a wounded animal. Like I’m pleading for that pressure to turn into a release.
And the way he’s riding me…
It’s too good.
I try to shrug off his hand from mine—so that I can touch myself.
“Nonono, shhh.” He holds tighter to my palm and kisses the back of my shoulder. “Hold out a little more. Trust me.”
Trust him. There is no question. No uncertainty. He has all my trust. I’ve gift wrapped it and delivered it to his door.
Emotions spill over pleasured shockwaves. My breathing comes out hoarse and ragged, and Oscar keeps whispering in my ear. His gruff voice turns me on just as much as how he works me over. When he hits my prostate, lights dance in my vision. It happens again. And again. “Os,” I cry out. Everything else that leaves my lips are noises and grunts and heavy breaths.
But my head is one giant chant.Os. Os. Os. Os.
A climax annihilates me, and it takes me a second to realize I released in his palm. With all the confidence in the world, Oscar grabs a towel and wipes off my cum. He kisses the edge of my lips, and I fall onto my shoulder blades, both hands on my head.
He grins. “Not gonna lie, you enjoyed thatwaymore than I expected.”
I laugh in a pant. “Am I your biggest surprise?”
“Oh yeah, every fucking day, Highland.”
I eye his erection. “I can—”
“Just catch your breath.” Oscar stands near the foot of the bed, and he strokes himself a couple times. I heat up, and I watch this gorgeous guycomewith another firm tug. His muscles flex, and he grits down on his teeth, eyes almost rolling.
I only wish his orgasm was closer to me and from my body or hands. “NowIfeel like I’ve missed out on something.”
He uses the same towel to clean up, his grin rising again. “Maybe next time, Highland.”
Next time.I want the hot-and-cold just to be boiling hot between us. I want to reassure Oscar so the window flies fully open and I can climb all the way through. But I’m not sure how to do that without a major declaration.
One that could change my entire life.
Am even ready to tell my parents I’m not straight? To tell Jesse? To tell all of Oscar’s friends and everyone else we know?
My throat closes.
Inhale. Exhale.
I breathe out and let those concerns go for tonight.
Oscar comes back to bed. Lying next to me, he reaches over my chest to pull the cord to a lamp. “It’s five a.m.,” he says. “You should get some sleep.”
We both should.
But we’re awake another hour. We lie on our sides, hug each other’s frames, and whisper about his job, my job—the top-secret aspects that we can’t really share with other people. Details about the famous families. If we discuss sex, we might actually do more, so we make a concerted effort not to bring up what just occurred.
We talk until we put the moon to bed and wake the sun. Bright rays cast over the loft, the bed,us.Sleep catches up. Sleep that I don’t want but my body demands.
And finally, our eyes begin to shut.
21
OSCAR OLIVEIRA
