Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
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.
“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.