Page 73 of Headstrong Like Us

I try to relax and just ride the wave.Fuuckfuck.He rubs the spot with his finger, perfectly, and he pulls out right as I near another climax.

Jesus Christ.

I slip him a glare. “Thanks for the edging, man.”

“You’re welcome,” he teases, and before I can reply, his cock pushes against my asshole. His inked hand grips his shaft and he careful flexes deeper into me.

Only a couple inches and I feel the pinch of being filled. My breath catches, and Farrow stops. “Relax for me.”

I face the wall, unable to look at him. But the less I strain my neck, the more the rest of my muscles ease.

He rocks in. Deep,deep.“Fuck,” Farrow groans.

I blink, headiness washing over me. Dizzying me with the vapor.He’s inside of me.Farrow arches his hips, rocking, and I reach back and feel his ass as he thrusts.

The movement is pricking my nerves. I moan, and my head tries to loll backwards. He clutches my jaw, our faces close, and we kiss the fuck out of each other.

Fuckfuckfuck.I break from his mouth, another moan escaping, and water leaks out of my eyes, washed away with the shower. My palm splays on the tiled wall, and he threads his fingers through mine. Hand atop hand.

Farrow groans, “Fuck,Maximoff.” I’m a fucking goner.

Just lost in him. Feeling his chest flush against my back. I reach down to stroke my throbbing cock, but he smacks my hand aside and fists me himself.

Fuck me.

The force of his body thrusting and thrusting drops me from my hand to my forearm against the wall—and I bathe in each second with Farrow.

Our eyes collide as he pounds into me. Mouths open, lips a breath away, and a whimpering, low cry of fucking pleasure releases from my body.

Farrow groans and rams harder, deeper.Fuckyesfuuuuck.He nails my prostate in a rhythmic succession, and my muscles contract. Until I come, all the tension exploding in one blinding wave.

My eyes roll back, and Farrow milks my climax, pumping me with a skilled fist. He feeds the last of his own orgasm, thrusting slowly in me. Slow, in and out. Slow, in and out.

His action mimics our breaths, coming down on a slo-mo free-fall.

“Fuck,” I breathe, blinking out of that haze. I barely see my cum slipping down the drain. I glance back, and Farrow kisses me on the lips before he eases out.

He smiles. “Shit, I enjoyed that.” He’s eyeing me to ensure that I’m okay.

“It was alright.” I downplay.

He lets out a short laugh. “I think you mean it was a top ten.”

“Bottom hundred.” I toss him the shampoo bottle.

“Wow, you’re really lighting that honesty merit badge on fire.” He opens the shampoo, and I can’t help it—I’m smiling.

And then I remember… “Ripley.” I pry open the door and check the baby monitor without stepping out. “He’s still sleeping.”

Farrow relaxes, scrubbing shampoo through his hair. Tonight is a big night—what we have planned. But instead of obsessing, I’m taking in these simple, little moments with him.

Showering with my fiancé.

Washing our hair.

Painfully normal.

Dear World, let this last forever. Best regards, a hopeful human.