Page 198 of Headstrong Like Us
“Fuck.” He reaches back and roots a hand on my flexing ass. “Stay inside me,” he grunts. “…while you come.”
Goddamn.That does me in. I slam into the euphoric peak. Detonating. My eyes roll into a glare. Fucking Christ.I milk the climax, pumping slowly, and then I pull all the way out.
He rolls onto his ass, still hard, and I’m about to give him award-winning head. But he grips my broad shoulder, forcing me stationary, and his other hand wraps around his shaft.
I’m on my knees, sort of leaning over Farrow, and I don’t even have to ask. He’s fulfilling a blistering desire. With two strokes and the buck of his hips, he releases on me, and cum slides down the ridges of my abs.
Fuck me.
I harden. I’m not fucking kidding. Just like that.
He grins, his breath still shallow. “Before we go again, I just need to know one thing.”
“What?” I lie back next to him, and we kiss strongly. Farrow makes it too brief.
I glare and rest my head back, eyeing his cum on me.
Farrow rests a hand beside my shoulder, staring down into my eyes. “What made you want inside me tonight?”
I lick my lips, my neck hot. “I’ll tell you after you fuck me.”
He rolls his eyes. “No, but nice try.” Farrow gives me a long once-over that contracts my muscles.
I shake my head, my hair damp with sweat. “Besides just feeling like it, I think I just wanted to recall our first time together.”
His brows hike up in surprise.
My face reddens. “You didn’t hear that.”
“Don’t take it back,” he tells me.
It almost wells my eyes, and we’re kissing again. Pulse thumping.
We turn on our sides, seamless movements. Our bodies understanding each other, knowing our idiosyncrasies and needs and desires.
I have my back to him, and Farrow tucks me to his chest. Our fingers thread, wedding bands warm, and our clasped hands brush against my heart. “Relax,” he whispers against my ear.
I breathe out.
He opens me and eases in.
Oh fuck.“Holy…” I moan into a rough, aching growl.
God, I’ve never been so comfortable withonesingular person in all aspects of my life. I trust Farrow with every part of my body and fucking soul.
He’s my husband.
Tears crest my eyes.
We move together like a rolling, endless wave, and while he rocks against me, Farrow clutches my jaw, and I turn my head a bit. We kiss until I have to breathe.
He lets go of my hand, his arm curving around my hip, and he jerks me off in a perfect grip.
I hold the back of his head behind me. Fingers clenching his black hair.
This is a slow-burn fuck. Undoing me at an aching, lagging speed. No single concern tenses me. No fear.
Just vulnerable and bare. He presses his lips to my jaw, to my shoulder, to the ink on my bicep—the heart around our initials. He rakes his teeth over my skin and bites, and my eyes roll.
