OLIVER

Charlotte says my name, lets out a throaty cry and rolls herself into me.

She's trembling; I'm trembling. All I can do is hug her tight. I don't think I've ever been this emotionally or mentally overwhelmed. My dick is so hard it practically hurts. My emotions are a swirl of pride and shock that I gave Charlotte an orgasm. I can still feel how she pulsed and spasmed against my fingers, and it was the sexiest fucking thing I've ever experienced.

I want to do it again. Every day, for the next thousand years.

She lifts her head. "Now it's my turn to say wow."

I smooth back her hair. Now the air smells like sugarberries and her pussy, musky and sweet, and I'm practically fucking blind with need. Like I can't see straight. "I did okay?"

"You did more than okay."

She kisses me, then leans all her weight into me. Which isn't much since she's so little next to me.

I hope to God she's planning to jerk me off or blow me or something. Anything. I'll take anything at this point. She could probably look at me and I'd come.

I allow her to roll me onto my back. I can feel the heat between her legs through my thermal underwear. She's straddling me, rocking in a sexy slow rhythm.

"Your body. My God, Oliver. I love your chest." She runs her hands over my body, caressing my skin with a feathery touch that makes me shiver.

Leaning down, she bites my neck. Soft-like, but with enough sting that I groan and grab her hair.

"Too much?" she asks.

"Not at all."

"Mmm. Good." She bites me again, then alternates kisses and bites down my neck, across my pecs, and down my stomach. I shudder with pleasure.

She kisses around my bellybutton, little flutters that are so sweet and feminine that I feel like I'm going out of my mind.

Then, thank the universe, she lowers my thermal underwear. I'm also wearing boxer briefs, but she slides those down at the same time. My dick springs free, hard as a rod.

She pulls my pants and underwear off my legs, never taking her eyes off my erection.

"Oh my," she whispers. Then she licks her lips.

"Please," I plead.

"Please what? Please this?" She wraps her hand around my cock, and I grunt out a breath.

"God yes. Touch me. Or lick me. Or suck me. Or—"

The sensation of her lips around the tip of my cock make all doubts disappear. My hands slide over her hair, smoothing it back so I can watch her.

I groan again. Incapable of uttering words. When she takes me all in, my eyes roll back in my head.

Jesus, she's sucking and bobbing and licking all at once. I groan again, and all of the tension and tingles flicker in my thighs. I force myself to focus on her because I want to remember this moment for the rest of my goddamned life.

She swirls her tongue around the head. Then she deep throats me, her plump lips stretched from my cock. While cradling the back of her head with my hands, electricity surges from my brain to my balls. Fuck, it's so good. She's sliding up and down my shaft with her wet, tight mouth and I almost don't want this to end. But a delicious ache is howling through my body and I need release. Now.

When her lips are all the way at the top, I groan, wanting to be fully in her mouth again. In that tight wet space. Down her throat. She looks up, into my eyes, and swirls her tongue around the swollen head. My dick's all the way out of her mouth now, and she gives the tip a soft kiss. The sight is so beautiful, so raw, that I lose all control.

And spurt all over her chin.

CHARLOTTE

"Sharkie, oh crap, I'm sorry." There's a panicked tone in his voice.

He sits up and grabs his t-shirt. "Here, ah, is this okay? God, I'm an idiot."

I take the t-shirt and wipe my face. Then I giggle as I toss it aside. "Why are you apologizing? It was actually pretty hot."

He blinks at me. "What?"

"You coming on my face. It was hot. In a dirty way."

I snuggle into him, and we both collapse back onto the rug in a heap.

"Oh thank God. I thought you'd be pissed. I lost control there." I'm lying half on top of him, loving the feel of his skin against mine. "I'm sorry I didn't last longer."

"It's okay."

I zone out as I trace his bicep. He's got an incredible body. His cock is satisfyingly large. And it's not strange, being naked with him. For a brief moment when I took off my shirt, I worried it might get weird. But this? It feels amazing. Like nothing I've ever felt with a guy.

"I wanted to, ah, be inside you. Sorry I didn't make that happen. I'm kind of embarrassed. I was just so turned on."

I slide off him and prop myself up, head in hand. "It's not like this is the only time can do this. We've got all day. And all night. I'm sure our parents will give us plenty of warning before they arrive."

His big hand covers his face as he laughs. "If they walked in here now, what do you think they'd say?"

I laugh hard and snuggle into the crook of his arm.

"That'll never happen. They'll give us some warning."

Over the next few hours, we eat pizza, inspect every room in the house, and try to reach our parents. Probably because of the storm, we can't get through. Still, we keep trying. We definitely don't want them surprising us while we're in the middle of getting it on. Because we're going to. I can feel it. The tension's building again, with glances and laughter and long kisses.

I'm in a white fuzzy robe I found folded on a bathroom shelf, and Oliver's in his long johns. I don't think I've ever seen such a sinewy, muscular man in long johns before, and I can't keep my hands off him.

We also talk, a lot. We tell stories about our schools, talk about his sister, swap gossip about people we know in common. He tells me about his year in Panama. I talk about my volunteer work with kids at a school in Burlington.

We both miss Florida, and my mind begins to work overtime on how we can both end up there someday. He's got about eighteen months in Boston left, I graduate in May, and so maybe I could go to grad school at University of Miami...

He asks me a lot of questions about what I'm going to do when I graduate with my bachelor's in child psychology. We're on the sofa, and I'm on top of him—again. He's cuddled me into his chest, caressing my back. I love how small I feel against his body, and I'm practically purring.

"Grad school? You're going for a Master's, right?"

"Eventually. But I want a year or two in the real world first. I'm thinking about a program with this one nonprofit. It's almost like the Peace Corps, but in cities. I'd be working with kids and schools in high-need areas."

"Wow. That's really cool." He presses his lips to my forehead. "It's refreshing to talk to someone who doesn't want to work on Wall Street."

"I'm guessing you know a lot of those types."

His eyes dart to mine. "If you get a job with that program, where will you live? What city?"

"Most of the jobs are in Boston." My little smile fades. "But if my mom's sick, I'd probably go back to Florida right after I graduate."

He nods, all serious. I've just killed the mood.

"Hey, why don't you text your dad?" I roll half off the sofa to grab his phone from the floor. Anything to diffuse the conversational bomb I just dropped. "Maybe tell him that my phone doesn't have a signal. It's probably something to do with the storm and towers."

I've been trying to reach Mom and Dad for a couple of hours now, and am becoming concerned that I can't dial out or text. Oliver's service seems to be working just fine.

"Okay." I hand him the phone and roll back atop him. While still holding on to me with one arm, he taps on the phone with his free hand. A second later, his phone pings.

"Yeah, my dad says your parents tried but couldn't reach you. Dad says they won't get out tonight. Probably tomorrow. He'll call before they take off." He sets the phone on the floor and wraps the other arm around me.

"Good. More time for us," I say, and kiss him on the mouth. With tongue. Instantly, I feel bad about saying that aloud because of Mom. But today with Oliver has been nothing short of perfect, and I don't want it to end. Unless it's to find out that Mom's okay.

I break away and let out a satisfied sigh. We shift positions so we're on our sides. Have I ever fit so well against a guy before?

Nope.

He flips over to The Weather Channel. Apparently all of the airports in New York and New England are closed.

We're spooning, with him the big spoon and me the little. I love the feeling of his nose in my hair. A girl could get used to this.

A commercial flashes on, for a breast cancer drug. I immediately tense up, and Oliver hugs me a little close.

"Hey, I wanted to ask you something."

I roll over so I'm facing him. My finger goes to his dark eyebrow, and I trace. He's so classically handsome. Square-jaw and high cheekbones. "What?"

"Are you doing this with me just to take your mind off your mom?"

I drop my hand. "What?" It's as if all the warmth and coziness has suddenly leaked out of the room.

"It crossed my mind. Whether you're seeking comfort or distraction."

Now I'm sitting up, my stomach churning. "Are you asking if I'm using you? Do you think I'm that kind of person? Especially after knowing you my entire life? After everything I've said?"

His brow furrows. "No. No. I don't think you're using me. I know you were upset when you got here. That's all. I mean, it's okay if you use me. But I just wanted to know."

What the hell? Maybe I'd misjudged him after all. I tighten the robe's belt.

"Hey." He also sits up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that."

"No. You shouldn't have."

"You were so upset yesterday, it rattled me. I hated to see you like that. Sometimes, I get nervous and say the wrong things. I'm worried for you."

"Okay, for starters, you said you wanted to distract me. And you've done a great job of it. And second, do you know how much I thought about you after that kiss when I was in high school?" My temper's rising a little.

He shakes his head.

"A lot. I wondered why you just disappeared on me. Most of all, I thought we were friends. I was disappointed that you ghosted me. I had a crush on you for years. So, for you to ask if I'm using you as a distraction, it's hurtful..." I allow my voice to trail off, and I let out a sad snort.

He reaches for me, and I allow him to pull me into his body and back down on the sofa. Why does he have to be so warm and smell so good? I want him to know how much I like him. How much I'm loving every second of this. Dammit.

"I'm bad at this, Sharkie. I'm so sorry I asked you that. I panicked. I've thought of you a lot, too. Probably more than I should have."

"What do you mean by that?"

He kisses my forehead, and the anger leaks out of me. "You know how my brother is?"

"A player?"

"Yeah. I always kind of judged myself against him. But I didn't have his...I don't know."

"His fuckboy attitude? Sorry to be blunt. Your brother screwed two of my friends in one weekend."

He rolls his eyes. "Sounds like him. Yeah. I always thought that I'd magically transform into him, be some smooth guy who knew exactly what to say to women. But I didn't. And the only girl, ah, woman, I ever felt comfortable around was you. Is you."

"When was the last time you had a girlfriend?"

He shrugs. "I hung out with a some girls in undergrad. A couple of women wanted someone to support them, to buy them things. Which would be cool if I'd been into them. But it was obvious, from the beginning, you know? I don't think they cared about me. And sometimes, women assume I'm like this Latin lover that wants to go out and party, and they're disappointed when they find out I'd rather sit home and read at night."

"A man who reads is sexy." I ruffle his hair.

He grins. "But you know how it is. You meet online somehow. You text. You text some more. The relationship goes nowhere."

"Tell me about it. Texting has replaced dating." I sigh. "My mom said when she was young, guys used to call and pick her up and take her out to actual places."

"Yeah, my parents talk about that too. How my dad took my mom on picnics and shit. And I know I'm supposed to be the macho guy but..." He kisses my forehead. "I actually want that. Picnics. Dates. Romance. With one woman. I want something more than texting absurd emojis back and forth."

"You do?" Now I'm sitting up with the curiosity of a prairie dog on a documentary.

"Yeah. I do. I don't want random hookups. I've never had them."

"You've never had a one-night stand?"

He pauses for a beat, then shakes his head. "I probably shouldn't admit this to you, but I'm a virgin."

Ohhhh. Now everything is coming into sharp focus. He really doesn't know how to talk to women. That's why he came so fast. Sweet boy. Sweet, sweet, beautiful Oliver. My heart feels like it's doing cartwheels up and down the nearby mountain.

"That's okay. It's not a big deal." I lean in to kiss him. It's more than okay. It's adorable and lovely and despite his awkward question a few minutes ago—maybe because of it—I'm melting in his arms.

He's vulnerable and honest, rare qualities in guys these days. Hell, difficult to find in people, period.

"I'd been so wrapped up in school and my internship, and now grad school. I wanted to wait for something special. Someone special. Someone special in particular."

He puts his index finger on my lips, and I kiss it, then pull his hand away.

"Me? You wanted to wait for me?" Pure joy flickers inside my brain like the flames in the fireplace.

He nods.

Oh, wow. The things I'm feeling now. It's similar to Christmas morning mixed with the anticipation of prom and the moments before a first kiss. Like anything could happen. Like magic is in the air.

I slide off the sofa and stand, holding my hand out to him. I've never wanted a guy as much as I do right now. I'll be his first.

"What?"

I pull him up. Without saying a word, I lead him upstairs to my bedroom. When we're inside, I kiss him hard.

"Sit," I murmur.

I race into the bathroom, to my makeup bag where the condom stash is buried in a smaller vinyl bag with the word SEX in pop art letters. I come back out, brandishing a gold foil-wrapped packet between my fingers.

He laughs and grabs me around the hips. My robe falls open, and he nibbles and kisses my stomach.

"You sure you want to do this?" I ask.

He looks up, slips the robe off my body, and nods.

What happens next is the sweetest, dirtiest, best fuck I've ever had.

"I'm going to want more of that," I purr afterward.

He clasps my hand over his heart. "Give me a few minutes to recover, okay?"

Hours and hours later, after three more rounds of sex—Oliver's stamina and willingness to experiment and please has made my soul giddy and my body sore—I wake to use the bathroom. It's the middle of the night. On my way back into bed, I peer out the bedroom window. The snow's stopped, and a huge full moon is shining over the trees and the mountain. The landscape is silvery and otherworldly. Sparkly and peaceful.

It's Christmas morning. I'd almost forgotten.

I slip back under the covers, the warmth of Oliver's body enveloping me.

"Merry Christmas," I murmur, burying my face into his chest.

"Mmmm," he replies, loosely grasping a fistful of my hair.

I stay like this in his arms for a long while, listening to the silence of the night. To Oliver's heartbeat. What's going to happen to us? This is more than a winter break fling. I want more of him.

In the past, I've barely been able to stand guys after three hours.

I've known Oliver my whole life, and there's much so more to learn about him. So much more to share with him. A lifetime of experiences.

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