Charming Like Us (Like Us 7)

“You won’t squash me,” I say strongly, a smile edging. “I know I’ve never thrown a punch, but I can hold my own.” I tug off my boxer-briefs, and his eyes trace the cut of my muscles on my waist, the V-line that leads to my hardened cock, begging for friction.

I’m breathless already, just seeing Oscar devour my body from four feet away. His nose flares, and swiftly, he sheds his boxer-briefs and closes the distance between us.

His mouth crashes against mine, shooting adrenaline and pleasure in my veins. I grip his curls and he leads me to the bed. My ass hits the mattress, and his knee sinks next to me. Oscar clutches my waist and lifts me further up the bed.

God. I choke on a groan. My head meets a soft feather pillow, and he spreads my legs further apart with his knees so he can fit between them. I’m not used to anyone lifting me like he did. I grip the back of his neck. Wanting him closer and closer.

I have extreme difficulty catching my breath around him. In bed together, it’s even worse. I’m suffocating under the intensity as we kiss, as our hands roam. My palm travels over the dark hair along his firm chest, and I feel the hair on his legs as our limbs tangle. He grinds against me, our erections rubbing together with the movement.

God, fuck. “Oscar,” I groan, water cresting the corners of my eyes. I squeeze his ass that flexes beneath my palm, and he sucks the nape of my neck.

We’re not having sex, but nothing has ever felt this intimate to me. His hand glides up the back of my head. Arousal pools in hot waves. We’re muscle on muscle, and I watch as his palm dives south between our abs. He wraps his fingers around my cock and creates mind-numbing friction. Up and down, up and down. Lighting up the sensitive places.

“Fuck,” I choke.

The more amped I feel, the more I realize I’m not giving enough. But the thought fades as he digs forward, our kisses hungered, his biceps flexed near my jaw. I run my hands up and down his bare ass. Our muscular thighs slick with sweat.

Oscar grunts against my mouth, “Christ.”

A hand soars to my head. Dude. I cannot, for the life of me, catch my fucking breath.

And our lips are finding each other again. Tongues wrestling. His facial hair scratches against my jaw, brewing more heat. I buck up, and he pushes me back down with his build.

That felt too good. I tear our mouths apart. “I can’t,” I choke.

He freezes.

Shit.

No. “No,” I pant. “I meant…” He’s already sitting up off my chest. “Don’t stop, Os.”

“What was that?” Oscar asks, his lips swollen. Abs flexed. “You said I can’t.”

We’re both still painfully erect and wanting. I lick my lips into a smile. “It was just a lot. It was good.”

He studies me, then his mouth curves upward. “You gave me a heart attack, Long Beach. I thought I broke you.”

I let out a soft laugh. “I’m not that easy to break.” At least I sincerely hope I’m not. I trace our positions over and over, and there is a question I can’t contain. “Do you have lube?”

He stiffens. “We’re not having sex—”

“I understand that, but if one of us is eventually taking a cock in the ass, shouldn’t we work up to it?” I’ve Google-searched prepping before anal, and I was able to figure out douching on my own. So I don’t bring that up unless he does.

We texted each other not long ago our recent screenings at the clinic. Negative. No STDs. But I only took our agreement to get checked out as both of us being careful and responsible in case something did happen between us.

It wasn’t a guarantee.

It’s still not.

Which is why I’m on pins and needles as Oscar processes.

And then he pulls away and stretches his body to a nightstand. His hand stays on my thigh like he’s telling me to stay put. I watch as he pulls a black bottle of lube from the drawer.

He waves the bottle. “Pick your poison: you want my fingers in you or your fingers in me?”

Choices.

My muscles strain. “You choose.”

“You might not like my choice.”

“I’ll tell you to stop if I don’t,” I assure. “All I know is I’d try both.”

Oscar leans back down, and I fall back off my arms. We kiss again, and the swelter reignites as we sink into a sensual mood.

His hand descends between our bodies, and he jerks me off better than anyone ever has. Fuck. I force myself not to blow a load before we enter a new territory.

The anticipation of who he chooses to give and receive is annihilating me. And our eyes are on each other as he takes the bottle and lubes his fingers.