Damaged Like Us (Like Us #1)(102)

His brows rise, and he pulls his black V-neck over his head. “Couldn’t convince someone to have a one-night stand in a tent?”

“No.” My eyes graze the inked dagger on his abs, just barely visible in the darkness. “I just didn’t like the idea of only a thin sheet of canvas separating me from my bodyguard while I was fucking.” Usually there’s at least a wall.

“Understandable.” Farrow watches me as I watch his fingers. He unbuttons his pants, unzips, and he kicks them off. His heady gaze sweeps me in a slow-burning once-over. And his tight black boxer-briefs suction to his muscles, ass, and his long, thick erection.

Christ.

Blood pumps harder, everywhere. Until I’m one thundering pulse.

I grab his shoulder, and he already rolls on top of me. Legs interlacing, our mouth crushing together, I clench his hair between starved fingers.

He wrestles with my pants, yanking them off my waist, down my muscular legs. Off me completely.

Yes, fuck yes.

I drop my voice to another whisper. “How far did you say the bodyguards were?” Some should be standing outside all night.

As he lowers to meet my mouth again, he grinds his hard cock against mine. Fuck me. “I told them to give you at least a hundred yards.”

Almost a football field.

“Seriously?” I whisper, my excitement and desire pooling hotter. My right hand ascends his carved muscles, and I thumb the barbell on his nipple.

His lips quirk. “Yeah, but I didn’t do it so we could fuck.” He rests his forearms on either side of my shoulders, and I lie beneath his weight that scorches me head-to-toe. “I did it so you could sleep.”

I lick my stinging lips. Seeing that sleep is not on the agenda right now.

Farrow clutches my jaw, his mouth teasingly close as he breathes, “Try not to make a sound.”

Fuck me. I swallow a groan, and as my cock begs for pressure, he runs his hand down my abs, and lower, he grips my length, then balls.

“Fuck,” I breathe, waist arching up into him. Fuck me, man. I usually flip us at this point, but the weight of his build on me feels fucking good.

I yank off his boxer-briefs while he sheds mine. Buck-naked. We move more frenzied, my mouth against his mouth, his strong hand running across the back of my neck, everything sensitive. Lit up, and I stifle a groan in my throat.

Our bodies dig into each other, skin against skin. Intense friction heating us. The cold air no longer bites at me, but his teeth nip my shoulder. My mouth opens, but I cage the raspy sound.

Then I reach down and stroke him, his muscles tensing up against me. Jesus. His gravelly noise dies as he grits his teeth.

He jacks me off and rubs his thumb over the tip. My shoulders dig deep into the sleeping bag, my head wanting to arch back. Fuck me.

Fuckmefuckmefuckme—I flex, stopping myself from ejaculating. Not happening yet. I place a hand on his chest, and he lets go. I stretch my arm out. Patting his sleeping bag for his small duffel.

Farrow leans over and finds it. He has the lube and condoms in a flash. Setting them beside us, he kisses my jaw, sucks my neck—my breath heavies.

I squeeze his bare ass, and fuck, my toes curl as he rakes his teeth across the frame of my shoulder. His warm breath blistering my skin. I’m so worked up—I could easily come. But I want this to last way longer.

“Farrow,” I breathe.

He studies my features, even without much light. I think he’s honing in on our position. I’ve let him stay on top for a while, and I’m making no move to switch us yet.

Farrow runs his fingers affectionately through my hair, and his lips touch my ear. “Do you want me inside of you tonight?”

His rough but erotic voice fists my erection.

“Hmm,” a groan rumbles my throat, and my muscles contract beneath his strong build.

His nose flares, his own scorching arousal hitting him hard. “Maximoff,” he whispers, his hand slowly slides towards my ass.

Instantly, I catch his wrist. Stopping him. I stiffen in a different way. Like someone inside my body yelled fire in a crowded room.

“It’s okay,” he breathes, our eyes locked.

“You know I trust you. It’s just…” I lick my lips. “I can’t jump into that spontaneously. I want it, but…” The next part I’m about to say, I haven’t told him yet. Being vulnerable is like shattering concrete on top of layers and layers of hard metal.

I lower my voice to a more hushed whisper. He’s so close that he can hear me say, “The two times I’ve tried, I was eighteen, and I got inside my head. And it…well, it fucking hurt, and I didn’t let it last long.”

He cups my jaw. “Did he finger you first?”

“No.”

Farrow swallows hard, his features skewing towards pissed. “Why wouldn’t he…?” He shakes his head. “No, don’t answer.” He blows out a breath. “Fuck, I care about you, man.” He kisses my temple, then my lips, an I’m never going to hurt you pressed powerfully against my mouth.

When we break, we’re quiet for a beat.

Farrow breathes, “It’s not just a trust thing then. You’re nervous?”

“A little bit.”

“A little bit,” he repeats like I’m underscoring the truth.

“A lot,” I correct.