Damaged Like Us (Like Us #1)(103)

“We’ll plan nights for it. It’ll be a process to work you up. Because you don’t relax easily.”

“I don’t?” I say sarcastically. To have even his fingers inside of me, I need to be not nervous, not tensed, not afraid—and that could take hours or days or weeks.

I want to try. With him. Only him.

I eye his lips and his piercing. “Do you want it?”

His brows rise like I can’t see what’s right in front of me. “Do I want to thrust my cock inside of you?”

My breath goes shallow. “Yeah, do you want to fuck me?”

His mouth brushes my ear. “Hard and badly.”

I buck up, our pelvises grinding together.

A noise catches in Farrow’s throat. He speaks quietly but rapidly, “This can go two ways tonight. One: I stay on top like this, and I’ll put your cock inside of me.” He’s a fucking power bottom. The guy pushes his ass against my dick almost every time we screw. So he’d have no problem doing the grunt work.

“Or you take me how you’ve fantasized me taking you.”

That. My cock responds to that. His flexed muscles do too. I answer by pushing his chest up off mine. I’m aggressive in bed.

And every time I manhandle him, he lets out a breathy curse. An erotic fuck and damn. I kneel beside him and tear open a condom. Sheathing my erection fast.

His breath quickens, stroking his cock while watching me.

Fuck me.

We’re both boiling at the delay. I reposition him. Shoving him down on all fours, his knees on the sleeping bags. Hands on the pillows.

Farrow cranes his neck over his shoulder, his mouth parted. He extends his arm behind him, gripping my ribs. I lube his hole, running my finger around the rim.

He groans as softly as he can, “Fuck.” I push two fingers inside, opening him.

I replace my fingers with my erection. Slowly, slowly sinking into Farrow. Christ, the pressure. I growl with clenched teeth, my eyes on fire. His hand tightens on my ribs.

His gaze flitting to mine, and we share this recognition: that one day this will be him; he’ll be knelt behind my ass, sinking deep, deep into me…

I’m all the way in, and I rock forward. Hands on his muscular hips. I thrust and thrust. He swings his head forward, drops his hand, needing to grip the ground. Somehow.

Closer. My body aches for contact. Closer.

Closer.

I want skin and friction and sweat.

I sink further into him, and he drops to his forearms, cursing a dizzying fucking curse. He bucks up into me. Fuck me.

My chest welds to his back, a sheen of sweat built on us both. I clutch him stronger, my biceps cut sharp.

Yes, fuck yes. The pressure, the friction, his muscular body and expression, us this close together—everything compounds together in a blood-pumping, mind-fucking wave.

My ass flexes with each push in. He can barely keep his head hoisted. He’s pretty much flat against the sleeping bags. We’re about the same size, same build, and my body cloaks his, lying on top. Pounding into him. I wrap my forearm around his collarbones. And I dig deep.

“Fuck,” he groans into the sleeping bag. His legs spread wide as I fuck in between them.

Farrow lifts his head, angling and his mouth meets mine. Our tongues fight for that ache. My pulse bangs my eardrums. I dig harder.

He breaks apart from my mouth to let out a rumbled sound that completely spins my world. Farrow buries his head in the sleeping bag, stifling his groans.





38





FARROW KEENE





Fuck.

Fuck. I’m very far gone, choked up with pleasure. Water crests the corner of my eyes. His weight bears on my body. I lie on the floor.

He lies on top of me.

This is how he wants me to fuck him. Hard and deep, and unrelenting, but also protective and sheltered. Fully connected.

He grabs onto my forearms, bracing himself so he can drive deeper—fucking hell. My eyes roll back, my mouth wide open.

Maximoff groans my name in the pit of my ear as an orgasm barrels through him. My muscles throb from being flexed. He slows, milking the climax, and I try to catch my breath.

When he pulls out, he flips me onto my back. And I clutch his hair while he finishes me off with his mouth. I bite down, my pulse jackhammering.

“Fuck,” I curse as I hit a peak.

He swallows the last of my cum. And then we’re breathing hard, staring at one another, and my eyes say what blares inside my mind, we’ll have more weeks together.

Months.

Years.

It’s not ending here.

I’m going to give him what he just gave me. I tug him down, and we end up on our backs, staring at the tent ceiling. I tangle my fingers through his hair, leisurely pushing back the damp strands.

He runs his ankle against mine.

Crickets are the only sound, and the dark bathes us. Maximoff turns his head to me, and he wears this look that says he’s more than content.

He’s happy.





39





MAXIMOFF HALE





Akara puts his baseball cap on backwards. “Moffy, you only have three hours until this is all over. Do you have to confront them?”

“Yes.” It’s my only answer.

We huddle around the canoe rack by the lake’s dock. Not that far away, camp-goers break down their tents and pack their bags, getting ready for the final breakfast.