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 crunch upward and push myself to my knees with one hand. He’s knelt too, holding my gaze. Farrow shakes a black bottle and squirts lube in his palm. He strokes us, mixing lube with pre-cum, while we kiss.
More aggressively. Passionately.
He tosses the bottle aside, and our mouths break, catching our breaths.
“What position were you thinking?” Farrow asks since many have been hypothetically eliminated. My brain says most sex positions are doable.
And by most, I mean all.
“Me topping you, on our sides facing each other.”
He tilts his head at me like I’ve flown to Mars by myself and built a colony of one. “On your side?” he repeats. He makes a point of eyeing my shoulder, the bandage gone. A thick reddened puffy scar lines the length of my left collarbone.
“Yeah.” I don’t concede.
“No, fuck no,” he says easily and waves me on. “Keep going.”
I glance at his long, hardened cock. I want that in me as much as I want mine in him.
“I spoon you.” If there are proper terms for these positions, I don’t know them. I have a lot of sex. But I don’t research the fuck out of it on the internet.
“That’s also on your side,” he says. “Keep going.”
I exhale a hot breath. “Doggy-style or the one where your legs are splayed to the side and I’m standing off the bed and entering you from behind. But I could bottom for that one.” It’s one of my favorite positions I’ve been in as a bottom. I think because he wrapped his hand around my neck while he pounded into me, and I was so into it, into him, and I saw how much he got off on that.
Farrow contemplates for a half a second, and then waves me on again. “Getting closer.”
“With you flat on your back, missionary.”
He shakes his head, motion with two fingers to keep going.
My brows knot. “I’m getting the feeling you just want to know which positions I like.”
He smiles at me like the word pure is on his tongue. “That is part of the point, wolf scout.” His matter-of-fact voice pumps my blood.
I growl out and then exhale roughly. “I’m picking one now. Dresser. Standing.”
19
MAXIMOFF HALE
I climb off the bed buck-naked, and while he rises, equally buck-ass-naked, I gesture him to me. “Come over.”
Farrow doesn’t hesitate. In one blink, he’s reached me. He clutches my face and kisses me hard before he tears away and seizes the edge of the dresser.
My pulse thrashes. Pent-up and fixated on that simple movement and his confidence that matches mine over and over.
With my chest up against his tattooed back, I clutch his waist—and that’s when I realize that he never grabbed a condom. He lubed us without one. “No condom?” I ask him.
Farrow looks over his shoulder. “No condom,” he confirms. “But if you want one, that’s okay.”
This is a big deal. We’ve both been tested; we’re both clean and monogamous, but we haven’t taken that next step. Until now.
To let me bareback, Farrow has to have complete trust in me that I won’t cheat. I’d never. Same if we flip, I have to trust him.
And I do.
Completely.
“I want to,” I tell him, assured. He’s barebacked with a serious boyfriend before, but I haven’t.
Farrow cups the back of my head, and we kiss with slow-burning intimacy that feels like descending gradually… gradually in warm… soothing… waters.
My head dizzies, and we part with ragged breath. Farrow angles forward again, his knee bent in a slight lunge, and he hangs his head, muscles relaxed.
He glances over his shoulder to tell me, “You can come in me.” I catch his smile as he adds, “I know you want to.”
God. “And I know you want me to,” I say, too hot now. Too ready, and he doesn’t deny that we’re both dying for the same thing.
While I tease his hole open with two fingers, I kiss the back of his neck. He rubs himself twice, and then reaches backwards and grips my ass.
Fuckme. I clutch his ass before I take my erection and press the tip to his hole. Easing myself in—the pressure around me narrows my eyes into aroused pinpoints.
“Fuck,” Farrow groans, the further I go in…now all the way inside. “Ah, fuck. Maximoff.” His throaty noise combines with mine, a raw sound scratching out of me.
Christ. I rock my hips, pounding against him with mind-numbing friction. My hand shoots for his waist for deeper entry, gripping him. He white-knuckles the dresser, gritting down as a tangled moan ejects. Fuckfuckfuck…
I run my hand up his back muscles. “Farrow,” I groan, and he pushes back into my cock. My head tries to loll back—fucking fuck. I grip him harder. Ramming, my ass flexing beneath his strong hold.
“Harder,” he grunts, his forehead on his bicep. I pick up my pace and slam into him.