The quaint mountainside house is outfitted with a full-sized bed, fuzzy blankets, knitted pillows, and a woven rug in front of a wood-burning fireplace.
Romance is alive in Greenland.
We shed layers upon layers. Until we’re down to boxer-briefs and Oscar kisses me up against a distressed blue-painted armoire. Lips stinging, head spinning, my shoulders dig into the wood but my hips flex towards him. Rock-hard, I’m aching for his hand and skill.
I curse and bang my head back for breath.
He grinds forward, causing a deeper noise from both of us. The roughness of his jaw brushes against the light stubble of mine as he whispers, “How badly do you want my cock inside you tonight, Highland?”
I’m so fucking hard. His words almost make me explode. We’re dating, committed. The no sex agreement has flown out the window. I keep drinking him in, head to toe. Oscar has the physique of a pro-boxer, even if he’s not one anymore.
I wonder how he’ll feel inside of me. How close I’ll feel to him, how his weight and strength will be up against my body. It’d be a first for me, and firsts are always slightly nail-biting—but that adds to the appeal.
How badly do I want his cock inside of me tonight?
“More than you know,” I say in shallow, wanting breath.
He palms my hard-on. “Think I have a pretty good idea.” His playful grin usually coaxes mine out.
I’m too waist-deep in pleasure to smile. Too enamored with Oscar’s confident, caring hands that feed my need. He yanks the elastic of my boxer-briefs down my muscular waist. His hand grazes burning trails down my thighs as he lowers to his knees.
I stand at solid attention. My hand cradles the back of his head, and I watch his eyes trace every dip and cut of my body. His gaze softens on the bruises and welts.
“You like to do this often?” I wonder since he hasn’t given me head yet. This is a first. A guy blowing me—Oscar blowing me, or at least, he’s about to, and I might be leaning partially against an armoire, but I feel like I’m on the edge of my seat.
“More than you know,” Oscar grins, using my words. “You’ve just kept coming too fast for me to even try.”
I let out a low laugh. “I promise I usually last longer, dude. You just have a perfect grip and touch.” He could wrap his palm around my length, stroke twice, and I’d shoot my load.
“I do know how to handle a dick, Long Beach.” Oscar rubs me before taking me between his lips with expert ease. Oh…my…fuck. A groan rakes against my throat.
I arch my hips further, wanting deeper.
He moves in-out in his mouth, the pressure lighting up nerve-endings. Sending shockwaves throughout my entire body. My muscles burn, my hand sliding down his unshaven jaw. Pleasure tightens my balls, and like he knows, he squeezes them with just the right force.
My other hand flies to my head.
He eases my dick out of his mouth with a grin, skates his tongue across the length, then goes back in for more. I’m basking in this moment.
So caught up in us and what he’s doing to me that my body climbs to the peak faster and faster. Racing to the top, and as soon as he quickens his pace, I jerk forward. Head rolling to the side with a knotted groan escaping my parted lips. “Oscar.”
I’m spinning.
He swallows, rises to his feet, and milks my climax with a couple more strokes. I flinch against him, that pleasure rippling out of me. We’re eye-locked. Lips ghosting lips.
“That was…the best head I’ve ever been given.” I’m still shaking in ecstasy. “No lie.”
Another grin toys at his lips. “It makes it easy when I love the cock I’m sucking. And the guy.”
I smile more. Is he saying he loves me? Probably not. But I’ll always pocket Oscar’s praises, just like I know he won’t throw away mine.
He backs up, strips off his boxer-briefs, and walks naked to the bed. I’m so interested in what the hell he’s doing, I don’t follow his footsteps.
Oscar throws pillows onto the woven rug. When he glances back, he must see a shiver skate through my limbs. “You’re cold?”
I rub my biceps. “Yeah. I need your heat apparently.”
He laughs. “Weak California blood.” He kneels at the wood-burning fireplace and throws on a couple logs.
I use the bathroom, and when I come back out, Oscar has his forearms on his knees, sitting on the woven rug and watching the fire crackle.
Buck-naked, I take a seat next to him. Warming my palms, I turn my head. He kisses me; I kiss back just as strongly, and we’re about to sink into something I desire.
I put a hand to his chest, pausing the moment.
His body tightens. “You alright, Jack?”
Jack. Whenever he uses my first name, he sounds serious. It sets me more on edge.
“Let’s talk,” Oscar urges. “Screw this no talking beforehand bullshit, I’m through with that.”
I exhale. “Okay. Let’s talk.” I want to make this clear. “I’m dying to have sex with you, Os. I’ve been dying to have sex with you, so that’s not where I’m leading you.”
“What then?” He pushes curls off his forehead. “You’d rather give, not receive? You’re afraid of it hurting?”
I tilt my head. “You’re not that far off.”
Oscar rubs his eyes. “You’d rather top?”
I smile because I’ve known for a while that Oscar prefers to top. No one would ask me things like, how badly do you want my cock inside you? without wanting to go there. I could fuck with him, but that’d almost hurt my soul a little.
“I’d rather try bottoming,” I say honestly.
His hand falls to my knee, confusion lining his forehead. “Alright, now I’m at a complete loss of where you’re taking me, Highland.”
Figured.
I smile. “I was just wondering if there’s something I can give you first. I haven’t tried to finger you or anything. You haven’t really asked, and I didn’t know
