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The familiar shift, the push and pull of forever trying to balance who needs what the most.

I’m tired.

Oscar knows it.

And I know he wants to take care of me like he did last night. But he’s perceptive, and I see the moment he realises I might need something else instead.

We kiss again, slow enough that restraint becomes an ache in my bones. Hard enough that we breathe faster with every heated pass.

He’s wearing only a towel.

It falls away and he drags my shirt over my head.

I don’t know what happens to it. Or the rest of my clothes. Just that I’m naked in Oscar’s house again and I’m so far from falling asleep on him it’s not even funny.

We’re fused together and I’m about to back him onto the couch.

But Oscar stills and rests his forehead against mine, his thumb dragging my bottom lip before he pulls back just enough that I can see his mouth. “I want you in my bed again. And this time…I would like you to fuck me.”

I don’t have the luxury of mishearing Oscar. I live for the shape of those words on his lips and my faith in my ability to read them.

I want you in my bed again. And this time…I would like you to fuck me.

He holds out his hand.

I take it and follow him upstairs, already knowing I’ll do anything and everything Oscar ever asks of me. I’ve known it all along, even if it’s sometimes bemused me that we rarely land in the same place twice. Whether I understand it or not, it’s always the right place.

His bedroom is as still and calm as I left it this morning. Yesterday morning now, I suppose, and I should be feeling that. But Oscar’s naked, so am I, and the night feels like it’s just beginning.

Oscar sits on the edge of his bed. I step between his spread legs and kiss him as he slides his hands up my thighs and every part of my body reacts. He wants me to fuck him tonight and I’m here for it, but it’s not lost on me how easily I could go the other way. How badly I want that too.

I want all of him.

It’s dark in his room. He reaches for the lamp as I tip him onto his back and a soft glow warms the air.

I haul Oscar higher on the bed.

He laughs. “You are so strong.”

“So are you.” I’m not talking about his broad shoulders and muscled legs and I think he knows it.

I’m not talking about his big dick either, but I wrap my hand around it anyway, and I live for the instant flutter of his long lashes too. For the arch of his tanned neck, and the way pleasure makes him smile.

I lick his throat.

He curls his leg around me.

We kiss and kiss and kiss as I work him up with my hand. With my tongue and teeth as Oscar holds my head and fucks my throat.

He likes that. Almost as much as he loves obliterating me with his own wicked mouth.

Almost as much as I love every tremor and shiver running through his powerful body and into mine.

He squeezes my hand, coaxing me off him. “You are going to make me come like this.”

“You don’t want to come in my mouth?”

Oscar groans, his big hand tangling in my hair and tugging just enough to roll my eyes. “I always want that. I want everything, Po. You give me too much. Come here.”