Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
His mouth skims the outline of my erection. Boxer-briefs wet from pre-cum.
“Farrow,” I snap into a groan, pissed that he’s teasing. I can’t handle it, and I almost fall back off my elbows.
He nearly laughs. Then he pulls my boxer-briefs off—way too goddamn slowly. My cock springs out, and I try to sit up to tear off his black boxer-briefs. But he pushes my chest back.
“Relax,” he says in that graveled voice.
I glare. “And you call me bossy?” I reach down to a nearby duffel on the ground and unzip to find lube.
“You are bossy.” Farrow is standing and takes off his boxer-briefs. His hardened dick comes into full view, and I pause. Soaking in his chiseled muscles and cascading ink, not to mention the mouth-watering erection that’s supposed to be inside of me.
Don’t get fucking nervous now.
“Never said I wasn’t.” I lick my stinging lips for the millionth time. “But maybe you are too.”
“Maybe?” he repeats, his barbell lifts with his brow. “I am bossy. Lie back.”
I chuck the bottle of lube at him. He catches it with one hand. Jesus.
“Let’s do this fast,” I say, “because I’m on a fucking ledge, man.”
Farrow strokes his length while he lowers to his knees. Then he grips mine, licks the tip, and he sucks me—holyshitholyshit. I clutch my thigh with one hand and clench his hair with the other. He devours my reaction, and I bite down, a mangled noise in my throat.
I pay attention to how his lips wrap around me, and the pressure—Christ, the pressure. He slows, and he lubes his fingers. This is it.
He pops his mouth off my cock. “Lean back, Maximoff.” He lifts my foot onto the edge of the mattress. I’ve done this enough to other people, so I’m highly aware I need to set my other foot on the bed to let him in.
But I’m fucking frozen.
He tries to distract me, his hand rubbing me. And he stands and leans down, kissing me strongly. My heart rate is elevated. I slide back more into the middle of the bed, and I bring him down. Not liking when he’s standing and I’m not.
Farrow clutches my jaw. “I’m not going to hurt you. Trust me.”
I take a deeper breath. And I try not to tense, but my muscles cut sharp. While he’s on top, face-to-face, we make out; he strokes me, I stroke him, and he whispers, “Relax.” His voice soothing.
And his other hand descends.
His fingers brush against my puckered hole. I do my best to focus on my pent-up arousal, and one finger slides into me. Deeper, finding my prostate.
He massages, and I tighten, the nerves killer. Almost too sensitive.
“Wait, wait.” I put a hand on his chest, and he’s out of me in a millisecond.
I’m honest-to-God shaking. And I can’t tell if it’s from being too wound-up, teasing overload, or anxiety.
Farrow studies my body language, his hand holding my waist protectively. “Talk to me, Maximoff.”
I rub my face a couple times. Frustrated with myself. “No more edging; I just need to come.”
His smile stretches too far. “It felt good then.”
“Too good.”
“That’s the point, wolf scout.” He leans forward and hovers over me, his earring dangling. I clutch the back of his head, and I’m about to say what I feel but I lose sight of the words.
He reads me. “I think you’re scared.”
I think you’re right. I’m quiet, not combatting him like usual. Sex is uncomplicated for me. It feels good, and I go full-force. This feels fucking good, but it’s a level of intimacy that I couldn’t give strangers. I tried.
I failed.
And now, as I try to reach this place with a guy I love and trust, the last guard I’ve raised will drop. Being that bare with someone is fucking terrifying and exhilarating—and I want it, but can I let myself get there?
Farrow places a kiss on my shoulder, and he asks, “Have you used any sex toys before?”
“Yeah, all the time.”
His brows spike. “All the time?”
“Sometimes,” I correct.
He eyes me. “You’re going to have to spell it out.”
I give him a look like he’s flown to outer space. “I like sex.”
“No shit.”
I glare, pretty weakly. “So I’ve used dildos and prostate massagers before we got together, maybe a few times a week.”
A satisfied smile edges across his mouth. “This is good news.”
I’m not following. “How?”
“You’re going to let me put a dildo inside of you,” he says casually, but I heat from head-to-toe in want. “It’s something you’re already used to, so you won’t be afraid.”
“I’m not that fucking scared,” I refute now.
“Sure,” he says, eyeing my lips. “Just like I currently don’t have a hard-on for you.”
“What gave you a boner then, the ceiling or the floor? No wait, let me guess, the pillows.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re such a smartass.” He stares at me for a long beat, almost asking me if I agree with the plan.