Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
FREYA
“Can we keep going?” I whisper it, not able to voice the words.
Oscar’s breath stalls at the same time his hand freezes. I look up at him, worried I’ve said the wrong thing, but in his eyes I can see that it's the opposite.
“Are you sure?” His touch glances across my cheeks as he watches me carefully, examining every detail.
“Yes?”
He frowns.
I take a deep breath, settling my racing heart. “I’m sure.”
“Fuck,” he groans, his head falling into the curve of my neck.
He starts licking and sucking, working from just under my ear to the skin below my collarbone.
I gasp, gripping his shirt as the sensations threaten to take me under.
“I’ll be so careful with you, Freya. I’ll never hurt you.
If you don’t like something, or you wanna stop, anything, fucking anything you want, just tell me and you can have it. ”
I can do this. I can ask for what I want.
“Can we go to my room?”
He doesn’t answer, just hooks his hands under my thighs and stands, taking me with him. I squeak, holding on with my arms and legs as he marches through my apartment, a man on a mission. I have to stifle a giggle at his intensity, but he catches me.
“You laughing at me, Malcolm?”
“I would never,” I say in mock-affront, even as more giggles escape. Only Oscar could make me laugh in a moment like this.
He drops me to my feet when we get into my room, my toes hitting the carpet with a gentle thud. It’s a good thing he keeps an arm banded tight around my waist, because I don’t know if my legs are capable of holding me up otherwise.
Oscar takes the lead, guiding me toward the bed. He sits, pulling me to stand between his knees. A sense of total calm floods through me. I’m still nervous, yes, but I know this is where I’m supposed to be.
His hands skim up and down the backs of my thighs in the softest brush of his fingertips. The light touch sends prickles of ice over my legs and I shift, trying to shake the feeling loose. Oscar shoots me an apologetic smile as he notices, and rubs them in firmer strokes.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “It’s just the light touches.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Remember that conversation we had about apologies?”
I roll my eyes and he tugs on a lock of my hair.
He’s so handsome. It’s honestly a little unfair. How am I supposed to think about anything else when he’s looking up at me with that face?
I reach up and brush a piece of hair off his forehead, enjoying the way the soft strand feels as it moves between my fingers. I’m starting to see why he likes playing with my hair so much. This is pretty nice.
He turns his head into my palm, placing a kiss to the tender skin there. My chest squeezes as he gazes up at me, his face so full of adoration, I almost can’t take it. Every day, I feel closer and closer to the edge of something dangerous, something I won’t be able to come back from.
He holds still as I bend down and press my lips to his forehead.
He lets me explore, never rushing me as I kiss from one temple to the other, over the bridge of his nose, each of his eyelids.
He just waits, his steadying touch on me as I take my time, taking in this perfect man who seems content to remain completely at my mercy.
A low growl escapes him when I nip his jaw. His hands tighten, fingertips digging in. I wonder if he’s going to leave a mark, and find myself hoping that he might.
“Freya,” he chokes out as I kiss a line down the column of his throat.
“I want you so much,” I whisper into his neck, knowing I won’t be able to say it if he’s looking me in the eye.
He pulls away, his expression hungry, practically radiating need. “You’re really sure?” He swallows hard, the muscles in his neck straining. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, or if you just want to fool around a little.”
I nudge his hands aside and lean forward to kiss him again. His mouth opens, letting me in as his palms find a home at my waist. I whisper, “I’m sure,” against his mouth, punctuating my words with a nibble to his bottom lip.
He doesn’t say anything, instead looking at me with a heat that steals my breath.
I barely have time to register the wolfish grin that comes over him before he tips backwards, pulling me with him as we both tumble back onto the bed.
My arms shoot out, the only thing that stops our heads knocking together.
But before I can get my bearings, his mouth is back on mine, urgent this time, full of unabashed wanting.
Then the room spins as Oscar flips us so that I’m pinned under him, the delicious press of his body anchoring me to the mattress.
I wait for the panic to come, the same as it did before, but there’s nothing. Right now, the pressure’s a reassurance.
Oscar devours me, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses up my throat, pausing only to give a hard suck to the soft spot under my ear.
Oh God. It’s so good.
I thread my hands into his hair, needing something to hold on to as the flood of desire threatens to undo me.
I cling to him, breaths heaving in and out as his hands map my body, touching me so reverently through my dress, like I’m made of glass.
It’s a sharp contrast to the way his mouth seems ready to consume me whole.
He pulls away suddenly to kneel between my legs. My hands ache to tug him back, to feel his warmth come over me again.
“Can I take this off?” he asks softly, his rough hands tracing the outside of my knees, thumbs rubbing just under the hem of my dress.
I think I might die if he doesn’t.
I nod, and his head drops for a second as he sighs, a sound of total reverence that makes my belly flip. He slowly pushes up my skirt, inch by careful inch, watching my face for any sign of hesitation, until it’s bunched around my waist.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Freya.”
His fingers curl under the band of my tights, and it’s enough to make me suck in a breath.
Oscar’s brow furrows in question, but when I nod again his gaze falls back to his task, one he appears to be taking very seriously.
He slides down my tights, pulling them off one foot, then the other.
Never taking his eyes off me, he balls up the fabric and tosses it into the corner of the room.
“God, these thighs.” The words come from somewhere guttural as his hands come back to me, this time touching my skin with nothing between us. A tiny whimper escapes me and he grins, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
I lose sight of his face when he drops down to place a kiss to my hip, just above the line of my underwear.
Suddenly, I feel too hot, my clothes too constricting.
My hands move from where they lay limp at my sides to start undoing the buttons at the top of my dress.
But before I can get the first one through, Oscar bats my hands away, raising an eyebrow at me in mock-consternation.
“I’ll get to that.” He winks. “Don’t rush me.”
I fist the sheets to stop myself from interfering.
His movements are careful, precise, like he’s been planning this in his head for a long time as he rids me of the rest of my clothes, tossing each item across the room until there are pieces of me strewn all across the floor. “They’re gonna be so wrinkled.”
“I’ll steam them for you tomorrow,” he says as he licks up my calf, eliciting a sigh of pleasure.
“You know how to use a steamer?” I gasp.
“I’m 29 years old, of course I know how to use a fucking steamer.” He lifts his head just enough for me to make out his quirked brow. “Now, do you wanna quiz me on garment care some more, or do you want me to go down on you until you come all over my face?”
My head spins, and I think I might pass out. What is he doing to me?
“Uggghhhh, the second one?” I moan as he sinks his teeth into my upper thigh.
“Yes, ma’am.” His words are muffled by my skin as he edges closer to where I want him the most.
“Can I take these off?” He tugs at the lace hem on the bottom of my underwear and I’m so pleased that I wore a cute set today.
I nod frantically, need overtaking every nerve ending. He groans as he slides them down my legs, pausing to press a kiss over my center. I gasp, practically bucking off the bed as he tosses them aside before moving to my bra and making quick work of that too.
I go to press my thighs together, seeking relief, but I’m stopped by his shoulders positioned between my knees.
“You say stop and we stop, okay?” He checks one final time.
I repeat it back to him and his eyes darken, fingertips pressing harder into my thighs as he maneuvers further down the bed, leaving nips and kisses in his wake.
At the first touch of his tongue, I almost bow off the bed, only held down when his arm comes across my hips, holding me in place. I reach down and tangle our fingers together, needing something to ground me as he works in long strokes, every one lighting me on fire.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
It’s everything good in the world.
I don’t ever want him to stop.
I cover my mouth with my free hand to stop myself from making the kind of sound that would have my neighbors talking.
Oscar’s not exactly quiet himself, far from it.
All I can hear from him are grunts, groans of pleasure, and muffled words spoken against me, ones that feel like they’re vibrating through my veins.
He focuses in on my clit, licking and biting and sucking.
I’ve never had anyone go down on me before, I’ve only heard about it, read about it, but I feel transformed.
I don’t know how I’ll be able to go on after feeling like this, experiencing this.
I want to lock Oscar in this room so we never have to stop, to close my store and make him quit his job, all for this.