Damaged Like Us (Like Us #1)(51)

The intensity tightens my muscles, prolonging a kiss. I don’t close my eyes. I don’t look away.

Maximoff fists my hair, his other hand diving down my abs while my second palm ascends his chest. He reaches my length and massages above the cotton—he squeezes.

Good God. A rumble vibrates my throat, I throb twice as hard. Fuck, he knows what he’s doing.

As my tattooed hand reaches the hollow of his neck, his eyes flit down for the first time. Watching me, his breath falls heavy.

Discovering what turns on Maximoff Hale has to be my greatest turn on. I want to make him come. Hard.

I lightly—very, very lightly—wrap my fingers around his neck. Slowly, I add pressure, faintly choking him. I study his reaction and the way his chest collapses.

I breathe against his mouth, “Do you like that?”

His groan sounds like a hollowed, wolfish growl. It’s pure, raw sex.

Then his mouth meets mine, and his skillful, sensual tongue parts my lips. In such a languid, scorching wave. His aggression never disappearing—fisting my hair, tugging down my cotton pants. I step out and hold his jaw steady, deepening the kiss.

He walks me backwards, and my shoulders hit the brick. Our mouths don’t break, and I cup his firm ass, and pull him against me, yanking down his drawstring pants. No boxer-briefs, his erection frees. I break our kiss, and my lips upturn at his size.

I’m not surprised that he has the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen, thick and long. Our chests melded, our pelvises grind, and he fits his fingers in the waistband of my boxer-briefs.

His whisper warms my jaw. “That’s going to be inside of you.”

My head tilts back on the brick, fuck yes. My muscles flex, and I’m out of my boxer-briefs next. He looks down, and his reaction to my equally beautiful dick is a deep, “Fuck.”

Yeah, you’re not a winner in every arena, wolf scout. Not when I’m in contention.

With one hand, I grip the back of his neck. With the other, I stroke his shaft, my fingers tightening around him. My shoulders dig in the brick wall. He watches my hand with daggered eyes that want to roll back.

I grin as his hips buck forward, his mouth against mine again, and he takes over, aligning our erections, hot, sensitive flesh rubbing together—and he jerks both of us off with one calloused, hard hand that feels fucking…I groan, my parted lips falling to his jaw.

I hold his face and then nip his lip, his moan tearing through his mouth. You liked that. I scrape my teeth down his jaw, sucking the nape before biting lightly.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

He really likes that. I rake my fingers hard down his back, and he thrusts forward, wanting to pound into me. I see that clearly. He drops his hands, and I swiftly rotate him, his back to the brick. Me facing his chest. I’m dying to watch him come.

I’m about to kneel, but he seizes my waist, his hand rising up my ribs. “Wait.” His jaw tenses, and he kisses me again, slowly, and against my mouth, he whispers, “Come on me first.”

Did I hear him correctly? One of the most straight-laced men I’ve ever met wants me to come on him?

Our eyes hit, and he sees the shock in mine. For one, I never thought he’d be this experienced. Despite saying that he has a lot of sex, that he loves sex—to me, he’s still five years younger. Five years less experienced.

For another, I thought he’d be wound-tight and vanilla. But he likes to be bit. Possibly scratched and choked. Now this.

Maximoff Hale has his kinks, and they make him really vulnerable for a few seconds. Yet, he commands every action, too. I dizzy in thought, and I run my tongue over my stinging bottom lip.

He rubs my cock fast, fuck. I lean forward, forearm on the brick by his head. I hold his face in a tight grip. “You want me to come on you?” I ask huskily.

His head tries to arch back against the brick. He growls out a groan, “Goddamn.” His breath is ragged and spiked, and I’m only grasping his face.

His large hand squeezes around me—and I grit down, my muscles ablaze, my tendons pulling taut. My head thumps, blood rushing downward. I breathe hard through my nose. His hand changes speed, slower and tighter. The perfect pressure wells up inside of me, mind-numbing.

My head wants to loll back, but I remain eased forward, my forehead nearly against his forehead. He changes his pace and clutch again.

Fuck.

I’m going to—I jerk forward, coming by his fucking hand. His abs glisten, and with a breath knotted in my throat, I drop down to my knees.

I stroke his hard length a couple times with a skilled grip. He watches my fingers intently, and he pushes my damp hair out of my face.

I smile before I slide my tongue down him and cup his balls. He shudders and curses, “Fuck, Farrow.” That fuck said, stop teasing. I try not to laugh.

I suck his tip and then wrap my mouth around him completely. I go all the way, in and out, back and forth, his cock between my lips. Gripping his shaft at times.

I love having him in my mouth, but even more than that, I’m hooked by the way he’s staring deeply at me. Like I’m a fantasy. Like I’m something made of heaven and stars that he’s dreamt of—and I never thought to ask what a celebrity who could have anyone in the fucking world fantasizes about.

And I wonder how long it’s been me.

I feel myself hardening again. I clutch his ass and take him to the very back of my throat. I taste him on my tongue. He mumbles a curse, his eyes rolling back and then set into a glare at the ceiling. It’s the hottest cum-face I’ve ever seen.