Charming Like Us (Like Us 7)

My lips part in surprise.

He takes a deep breath. “It reminds me of you.”

A noise between a shocked breath and an overcome laugh escapes me. My stinging eyes are on him. No one has ever made me feel like the focal point. The center of attention. I’m never the subject.

He doesn’t just see me. He acts like I should be the lead of not just one movie but every movie, and fuck if that doesn’t feel good—I don’t know what else could.

I take another glimpse of the midnight sun. “The brightest light shining during the darkest hour,” I smile. “That’s pretty good.”

“I’m only doing my best work with you, Long Beach.”

I smile, but my lips fall gradually. “What happens when the light dims? You’ll still be interested then?”

“Oh yeah.” Oscar nods. “I’m every star circling around you. You need a spark, I’m there.” He says it like a promise.

It wells up in me. My eyes redden, my smile more overcome. I’m always a positive force for others, and to have someone be mine is everything and more.

Oscar grabs the ends of the scarf and draws me in. Our lips collide in a hungered kiss. We pull and grip for more contact. And our eyes speak the same passionate need, just you and me now.

Gathering my camera equipment, my dick strains against my pants. Oscar types out a text with one hand and holds the door open to our blue house for me. He explains, “I’m letting Charlie know that he needs to call me if he goes into town or hears anything outside.”

My lips lift. “You’re off-duty then?”

“Yeah, for now.” He shuts the door behind us. “You have me all to yourself, Highland.”

Our eyes devour. And I put my camera shit away as fast as possible. When I told Jesse about the travel plans, he pleaded with me to stay back in Philly to edit footage. Really, I think he knew this was his chance to freely surf, and the Arctic is the last place he wants to be.

So it really just is me and Oscar.

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.