Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 146548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
I open my mouth to speak, but arousal swells my dick. I stiffen and an army of rules bears on me. “We’re in a hospital.”
He lets out another whistle. “Again, your perception today—”
“You’re not worried someone might walk in?” I try to gesture to his chest with my bad hand. I grimace, but thankfully, he’s not coddling me.
Farrow smiles wide and rests his knee back on the bed. “I don’t worry as much as you about anything.”
He does worry about my safety more than me, but I don’t point that out because his amusement is full-blown. “I’m not a prude,” I retort.
“I didn’t say you were,” he says, but he’s still staring at me like I’m the “purest” twenty-two-year-old human on this planet.
My left hand rubs my exposed thigh, wanting to dip under the blue fabric and touch my shaft. “Tattooed Boyfriend Gives Maximoff Hale Hospital Blowie—you like that fucking headline?”
He tilts his head, considering for half a second. “Eh, it could use an adjective or two. Best, Greatest, Most Earth-Shattering Blow—”
“Alright,” I say, pent up and needing friction. I would pull him against me if I could, but I have to settle with my commanding, unflinching voice. “Suck my cock.”
His chest collapses in arousal, but he ends up smiling. “You want me to suck your cock?”
I start to really harden. “Not if you keep teasing me.”
Farrow rubs his bottom lip with the hoop piercing and eyes the length of my body in a hot wave. He only has three piercings in right now: his lip, a silver hoop for his nose, and an obsidian spear earring that dangles. That last one was a Christmas present from me.
“Farrow—”
“Don’t sit up,” he tells me. I started drawing upward in a crunch, and I lie back against the inclined bed.
He leaves my side and puts his knee next to my leg. In one swift movement, his other knee is on the mattress. I already lie above the sheets.
I tent my legs and spread them a bit more. Just so he can… “Come closer.”
Farrow grips my kneecap. “Okay, Bossy, here’s how this works.” He plants a blazing kiss on the outside of my knee, his mouth ascending my leg, towards my exposed thigh. “You get one free blowjob for almost dying. But after that, you need to pull your weight.”
Pull my weight. Meaning, mutual ejaculation. We always both come unless we run out of time. Then we fight to be the one to shoot a load. Usually by flipping a coin.
That won’t change.
And this…
This is why I love the fuck out of him. Why he just fits with me. He’s not giving me any slack or reprieves for being hurt—except for one blowjob. I like that push-and-pull and to work for that affection. Not just someone lying down and offering themselves to me.
I also love giving head. And he’d say he loves giving it more than me.
His mouth brushes my flesh, his eyes on my eyes. “You’re smiling.”
I feel my grin. “What can I say? Assholes turn me on. Metaphorical and literal.”
“Me too.” His broad hand slides down my other leg. “Only I love the tight-laced assholes. Metaphorical and literal.”
Fuck me.
I lean back, my muscles contracting. The sheer idea of Farrow’s mouth wrapped around me in a hospital room makes me come undone. He’s my boyfriend, and there’s no NDA needed, no pre-planning or precautions. No worry that he’ll steal my clothes or my phone.
Public sex was never anything I could indulge in, and now…
His hand drives towards the hem of the hospital gown while his mouth works up my other thigh. His lips trace the faint scar from a four-year-old wound. A cut that he stitched.
As his eyes flit to me, I see that long-ago memory in them. Where he was twenty-four.
I was nineteen. At Harvard. Struggling. And he made my life easier, better—he was a comfort that I couldn’t quite grasp until I let myself. Until he let me.
Now he’s twenty-eight and on his knees for me. I know, I know, his mouth should be around my cock by now.
“Stop teasing, man,” I say in a heavy breath.
Farrow lifts his head, his earring swaying, and he slowly, slowly—agonizingly slow—rolls up the thin blue fabric. Stopping short of my rock-hard erection.
I groan. “Farrow.” I rub my thigh, trying not to give myself a hand job when his mouth is better.
Farrow nips my thigh with his teeth. Heat blisters in my veins, and high-speed mechanical beeping pitches the air.
His eyes meet mine again.
We’re both highly aware that we were just in a car crash together. Where I broke my collarbone. And I’m in a sling and hooked up to a fucking machine.
But maybe that’s why this is happening.
Because we need the distraction. Because being with each other, right now, feels like the calm inside a storm. Sometimes it’s just nice to feel good.