Oscar and I undress once we’re in his room. He shucks his clothes off until he’s in his boxers while I’m in his football shirt. He teases the fabric between his fingers. “I love that you wore this.”
I shrug it off like it doesn’t matter, but I love wearing their clothes. Is that strange? There’s just something about wearing their too-big t-shirts. Letting them—their smell—wrap all around me is like having them close to me all the time.
Oscar has just wrapped his arms around me after we get in bed when his phone rings. He breathes out. “If that’s one of them, no promises I won’t murder their asses.”
I smirk, but when he turns over, he answers it without any venom. The sheets gather at his waist as I play my hands up and down his back.
“Really?” Oscar asks.
The tone in his voice makes me stop.
“Yeah, thanks for telling me.” He breathes out, displeased. “No, no. I’ll take care of it.”
He hangs up the phone, resting it against his forehead.
“What’s up?”
“Another body found.” He pulls the phone away to scroll through his Contacts. He stops on Johnny’s name and presses Send. Whatever he answers with, Oscar says, “No, she’s fine.”
I smile at that, though Oscar doesn’t seem to think it’s sweet or cute or funny. “Body found in the alley just south of the boulevard. Candy in the pockets.” He pauses. “Yeah, one of our guys. My guy tells me it looks like it’s been there a couple of days. He called us first.”
Without another word, Oscar hangs up with a shrug. “What?” I ask.
“He said he’d take care of it.”
“Who is it?” I ask, mind already filled with nasty images of a ghostly white, decaying body. And bugs. I shiver.
Oscar pulls me close to him. “One of our low guys. A grunt.”
“If he died a couple of days ago...?”
“I know,” Oscar says, rubbing my arm nonchalantly. “Then that’s only a couple of days after Farmingham, and a level up, too.”
I finish his thought. “So, we could have another dead body on our hands shortly…”
“In theory,” he says.
We lie there, my mind working over what’s happened. Eventually, Oscar brushes a kiss over my temple. “Shh, Princess. Get some sleep. There’s nothing we can do right now.”
Oscar’s a sound sleeper. The next morning, I wake before him. Each movement I make on the bed doesn’t rouse him, so I start playing a little game. I trail my fingernails over his body. Still, his breathing is steady and even, eyes twitching under his lids.
I take it a step further, fingers brushing over his cock. In the middle of the night, he must have shed his boxers because he’s naked under the sheets. His dick twitches and grows. I swear, his heart pumps louder even though he hasn’t fully woken yet. I grip his dick in my hand, giving him small pumps. He rouses even more, moaning like he’s having a very good dream.
I bet he is, and I’m going to give him the best dream.
I push the covers away and scoot down the bed. I’ve already had a taste of Oscar, so I know what it feels like to have him in my mouth. My core clenches at the thought. Before he wakes up, I pull my shirt off and shimmy my panties down my legs, leaving us both bare. If this turns out the way I want it to, I won’t be needing these clothes, anyway.
I lick Oscar like a lollipop, swirling my tongue over his head. His hips jerk, and I grip him tighter, working him toward my lips. I take him all inside, humming.
“Ahh, fuck,” Oscar says sleepily. He tangles his hand in my hair, giving my head pressure. I glance up to meet his eyes, and his mouth is open in a silent “O” of surprise as I work him. “Fuck, Princess.”
I let his dick pop out of my mouth and grin at him. “Sorry. I wasn’t tired anymore.”
I push his hips to the bed and take him in my mouth again, running my lips down his length and back up.
“You undressed for me?” he asks huskily, reaching out to tweak my nipple.
I nod, the movement working my mouth over his cock.
“You’re moving in and never leaving,” he breathes out.
He’s so serious that I can’t help but smile, ruining the rhythm I had going on, but Oscar doesn’t mind. He takes my chin and moves me up to claim my