Page 142 of Headstrong Like Us

Closer.

More.

“Fuck,” Farrow grunts against my mouth in a short breath. And then we’re back, connected. Lips against lips. Chest against chest. Tongues wrestling and hands traveling. Clenching hot skin.

Swiftly, I spin him around and push him hard.

Farrow collapses back onto the bed, his chest rising and falling heavily like I knocked the wind out of him. “Damn,” he breathes, arousal intensifying in his eyes and against his black boxer-briefs.

I climb on top of Farrow, claiming his jaw in my hand. We kiss again. This time deeper, hungrier, limbs sliding against slicked skin.

He yanks my jeans down off my ass and possesses the back of my skull. I rock against him in a rougher kiss, our lengths rubbing and hardening.

God.

I want more, and I’m very cognizant that I still haven’t topped. But I’ve tried to stop counting the days of my bottoming streak.

Stop overthinking.I just try to hold onto what I’m feeling in the moment, and right now, I crave him inside me. To feel his cock ride me until we’re both spent.

I break from his lips first. Standing confidently off the mattress, I cross the room to grab lube from a duffel bag. Not unpacked yet.

Intrigue gathers in Farrow’s gaze, probably not having a clue which way this could go tonight. I toss the lube on his chest. “Fuck me, man.”

The mattress undulates slightly as I crawl back onto him. His tongue wets his bottom lip. “It’s like that then?” He gives me the absolute hottest once-over of my life.

“Yeah.” I pin my hands on either side of him. “It’s like that.” I’m about to use an MMA move he taught me to flip us, but he’s quick.

His legs hook around my waist, and in a second flat, my back meets the mattress. And I’m out of breath. “Christ.”

He grins, his weight bearing down on me. “You’re too slow.” He kneels and wrenches the jeans off my ankles. Fuck.

I prop myself on my rigid elbows, watching him roll down my boxer-briefs. And Farrow fists my hot erection in a perfect grip, one that forces my eyes in the back of my head.

“Fuuck,” I curse in a shallow breath.

He consumes my pleasure like this overcome reaction is his nirvana. His lips trail down my chest and abs, reaching the sensitive shaft he’s stroking.

Effortlessly, he replaces his hand with his mouth.

Fuck,the sensitivity and the way Farrow skillfully takes me to the back of his throat is mind-blowing. I grip a fistful of his bleach-white hair and arch my hips. Once, twice—oh fuck.

I come, so much faster than usual. Like a billion light-years faster. Like preteen days fast.

Muscles flexed, I can’t reverse what just happened, and Farrow swallows my load and pulls back.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I collapse back and rest my hands on my clammy forehead. “What the fuck,” I mutter to myself.

“Maximoff.” I hear his amusement.

I can’t look.

I’m dying. Shriveling. Bury me.