Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
FREYA
I’m nothing but sensation as Oscar pulls off my underwear, leaving me naked beneath him.
Every touch, every sound and feeling, gets heightened by the blindfold as he gently pushes my thighs further apart.
I never knew I wanted this, but now that I’m here, I can’t imagine anything more perfect.
I don’t have to worry, to stress about what I’m supposed to be doing or how I need to act. I just get to be, to feel.
Every thought gets wiped from my head as Oscar’s mouth descends on me, licking and sucking until I’m writhing.
There’s no teasing, no preamble, he’s right where I want him and it’s so fast, only a minute or so and I’m almost there, ready to crash over the edge.
Wanton moans escape me, mixing with the wet sounds coming from him.
I’m almost embarrassed, but I can’t bring myself to care, not when it feels so good.
Time moves to a liquid state as I revel in the pleasure that pumps through me.
A low buzzing starts in my thighs, moving up, until suddenly it’s everywhere, every part of me quaking as I shatter.
I almost buck off the bed, but Oscar pins me in place with a firm hand on my abdomen.
I distantly become aware of the soft scratch of his beard nuzzling against my inner thigh as he soothes me through the comedown.
I lay completely boneless as I feel him move over me, the comforting weight pressing me into the mattress. I taste myself as he presses his lips to mine, dotting kisses along my mouth, my cheeks, across the blindfold, over my nose.
“You doing okay?” he asks, and I feel the shape of the words against my collarbone.
“Yes,” I breathe back.
“Good.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Because I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”
Suddenly, everything starts moving as I’m flipped onto my stomach, the air coming out of my lungs with a whoosh.
Oscar lies over me again, nibbling my shoulder.
“This okay?” He checks in. I gasp out my yes, trying to lift my hips enough to grind my ass against him.
He grips them firmly, pressing me into the bed.
“Behave,” he growls, biting into the juncture of my neck and shoulder and pulling a loud moan out of me.
He rises off me and I hear rustling, fabric moving, the telltale ripping of a foil packet, then he’s on me, his chest hair rubbing against my back as he straddles my legs. A hand slides under my pelvis, lifting it just enough to where I can feel something hot and hard at my entrance.
“Yes?” he pants into my neck.
“Yes,” I groan back.
I try to breathe, to steady myself for the sensation, but there’s no preparing for this.
He pushes in so, so slowly, in one steady movement until I’m so full it’s like he’s everywhere, taking up every inch of empty space inside me.
There’s not much room in this position, and for a second, I’m conscious that it might be too much.
Oscar must sense something in the way I’m breathing, or the tension in my shoulders, because he adjusts me slightly until he’s able to slide home.
I don’t know how he’s always able to read me so well.
It’s as if he knows what I need before I do most of the time, and this is no different.
Fully seated, he’s so deep inside me that I don’t know where I end and he begins.
We stay like that, both breathing each other in, until we get restless and Oscar starts his movements.
I fist my hands in the sheets, needing something to cling to as he thrusts long and deep.
Each one feels like it’s moving me up the bed, every slide of him against my inner walls lights me up from the inside.
His pace picks up, but it’s still not enough.
I’m greedy, impatient, needing more as I try to move against him, to meet his thrusts.
Oscar stops me with a hand to my shoulder blades, but seeing that I need something else, he slides his other hand beneath me, working it underneath until it hits my core.
With only a few precise taps to my clit, I’m coming again.
I don’t know how long I’m floating this time, but it’s only the sound of Oscar’s groans as his thrusts start to lose their rhythm that brings me back to myself.
He presses his forehead against the back of my neck as he bucks into me, letting out one final growl of pleasure before he stills, finally spent.
We lie there in silence for a few long minutes, our sweat-soaked skin plastered together. I grope around blindly until I find Oscar’s hand next to my head. One touch of my pinkie against it and he’s lacing our fingers together, locking them tight as we wait for our breathing to regulate.
“You okay? You feel good?” he asks, voice muffled by my hair.
I giggle into the covers, turning to rest my cheek against the soft fabric. “So good.”
“Okay,” he huffs. “I’m gonna need a minute.”
“Take your time.” I have no desire to move.
Even sticky and hardly able to breathe with Oscar half crushing me, I don’t remember a time when I felt this comfortable.
I almost protest when he finally pulls out, rolling onto the bed beside me.
Gentle fingers work at the knot behind my head before the tie falls away.
I squint against the light as it floods my eyes.
Even though it’s dim, I still bury my face in the covers. I feel Oscar moving around next to me.
“Wait here.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder before rolling off the bed. I want to pull him back, but I can’t quite feel my limbs yet.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I mumble.
I listen as he washes up in the bathroom, then to the sound of drawers opening and shutting.
“How are you doing, baby?” He sits next to me, his fingers stroking away the strands of hair that have fallen across my face.
I crack an eye open, fatigue consuming me.
A flash of red catches my eye and I see what he’s got on his lap.
“Are those my pajamas?” When did he pick those up?
I reach out, arms feeling like overcooked spaghetti, and rub a thumb along the fabric.
It feels new, not the well-worn softness that mine have after too many runs through the wash. “They’re not mine.”
He keeps his gaze on his lap. “I just wanted you to have the things you like when you’re here.”
I push myself up, wanting to wrap myself around him, and not wasting any time succumbing to the urge. “I love them, thank you.” I go to kiss his cheek but he turns into me, catching my lips with his.
“I love you,” he whispers against me, and it still feels just as good to hear it as it did the first time a week ago.
The emotion bubbles up in me, like heating lava, ready to erupt. I can’t keep it in. It burns away those last feelings of fear, the ice that’s kept me frozen for so long. I stare down at the pajamas, the latest in all the things he’s done to make sure I’m comfortable, to make me feel safe.
It’s him.
He’s it.
“I love you,” I murmur, barely audible, but he doesn’t miss it.
He rears back, eyes searching mine. “What?”
“I love you.” I say it again, louder this time.
He starts laughing. “Holy shit.”
Fast as lighting, his mouth is on mine. Our teeth clash in messy kisses, Oscar laughing all the while. He dusts his lips over every part of my face he can reach, until finally he rests his forehead against my temple. “You can stay tonight, right?” he asks.
“If you want me to?”
“Of course, I-I always want you to.”
“Then, I’ll stay.”
He stands, smoothing out the creases in the pajamas. He keeps shaking his head, like he can’t believe what’s happening. Him and me both.
“Arms up, honey,” he says, holding out the shirt.
I do as I’m told and he slips the fabric over my head.
My breath catches as he drops to his knees in front of me.
He tugs my feet down from where they’re curled underneath me and carefully feeds them into the pant legs.
“Hips,” he murmurs. I lift up enough for him to settle the waistband into place, then he’s guiding me down until my head hits the pillow.
“You need anything to eat? Water? You warm enough?”
I laugh sleepily. “You’re acting like I’m on my deathbed.”
“I’m sorry, did I not just fuck the life out of you?”
I giggle louder this time, swatting his chest.
He pulls on some boxer shorts from the dresser and slides into the other side of the bed. I roll to face him as he settles in next to me, taking in the contours of his face. God, I love his face so much.
“Shit, I need to set my alarm,” I groan.
“I got it.” He waves me back down as I go to sit up. “Is it in your jacket?”
“I think so,” I mumble around a yawn.
He shuffles out to grab it, returning in just a few seconds and handing it to me. I set the alarm as he climbs back in.
“Do you want to put those on?” he asks. It takes s second for me to work out what he’s referring to, but he points to my Home Screen, gesturing to my sleep sounds app.
Thank God the lights are off, he doesn’t need to see how deep my face is flushing. “Oh-I, that’s okay.”
“Here, I don’t mind. We can put on a babbling brook or something.” He slips the device out of my grip before I can stop him, and opens the app.
“Oscar, wait—”
“Oh,” he murmurs. I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing what he’s seeing. He doesn’t say anything, and after a second, I crack an eyelid, not able to take the quiet. The familiar titles slide over the screen: Boyfriend ASMR, Hair scratches, Soft reassurance. My face burns hotter.
“I-um, sorry. I know it’s weird,” I choke out.
His heads whips around, seeing my embarrassment. He locks the screen and hands it back to me. “Hey, no, it’s not weird.” He reaches out and cups my cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked.”
“It’s fine. I don’t really use them anymore.” I haven’t needed to. “I just used to get lonely,” I confess, “and it was nice to pretend I wasn’t on my own.” My nose stings with the threat of tears as I think back on that version of myself, so starved for any kind of affection.
Oscar’s hands slide up until he’s pulling me to him, dropping a soft kiss to my lips. “You’re not on your own now,” he murmurs against me.
“I know.” I give him a soft smile, the tears retreating.
“I could talk to you, if it’ll help you get to sleep.”
I sag, leaning forward until my forehead drops against his collarbone. “Not tonight, but thank you,” I mumble. Knowing he’s with me is enough.
“Okay.” He drops one more kiss against my hair and then he’s guiding me down until we’re both tucked under the sheets.
“You should feel honored. You’ve replaced the disembodied voice in my phone.” I go for a joke, wanting to cut some of the tension. It feels too vulnerable, him seeing all the broken parts of me.
“I’m honored every second that I’m with you,” he says earnestly.
I smile. “So am I.” I feel my eyes start to get heavier as I pull the comforter around my chin.
“Does this mean you’ll make me a sweater now?” Oscar says into the quiet.
I laugh, thinking back to his face on that first date when I explained the sweater curse. “I think you’re skipping a couple of steps there.”
“Ah,” he sighs, “I’ll get one out of you, eventually.”
I flush, heart picking up. Is he thinking about us getting married? Is that what he means?
“Come here,” he murmurs sleepily, oblivious to the bomb he’s set off in my brain.
I scoot a little closer, but it’s not enough for him. One of his arms bands around my waist and tugs until I’m sprawled on top of him.
“Was that really necessary?” I raise an eyebrow.
He wraps his arms tight around my shoulders until I have no choice but to rest my cheek against his chest. I feel his deep inhale, then the ghost of breath tickling over my hair as he lets it out.
“Very necessary.”
“We can’t sleep like this.”
“Yes, we can,” he assures me, tucking my face into his neck. “Shh, go to sleep.”
“I’m gonna get too hot.”
“I don’t care.”
“Let me go.” I giggle, struggling out of his hold.
“Ugh,” he huffs indignantly. “Fine, if I must.”
He loosens his hold just enough for me to wriggle out and roll to my own side of the bed. When I look over, I see him grinning at me, his fingers walking their way across the covers.
I brush his hand away. “Not a chance.”
“I’ll be good, I just want to hold hands.”
“You want to sleep holding hands?”
“Uh-huh, like sea otters.”
I hold out my hand and he knots our fingers together, his mouth pulling into a sleepy smile.
“Like otters.”
“Tell me again,” he says softly, hardly awake.
“I love you,” I whisper into the dark.
He murmurs his reply, mostly to himself. “She loves me.”