Damaged Like Us (Like Us 1)

Farrow cranes his neck over his shoulder, his mouth parted. He extends his arm behind him, gripping my ribs. I lube his hole, running my finger around the rim.

He groans as softly as he can, “Fuck.” I push two fingers inside, opening him.

I replace my fingers with my erection. Slowly, slowly sinking into Farrow. Christ, the pressure. I growl with clenched teeth, my eyes on fire. His hand tightens on my ribs.

His gaze flitting to mine, and we share this recognition: that one day this will be him; he’ll be knelt behind my ass, sinking deep, deep into me…

I’m all the way in, and I rock forward. Hands on his muscular hips. I thrust and thrust. He swings his head forward, drops his hand, needing to grip the ground. Somehow.

Closer. My body aches for contact. Closer.

Closer.

I want skin and friction and sweat.

I sink further into him, and he drops to his forearms, cursing a dizzying fucking curse. He bucks up into me. Fuck me.

My chest welds to his back, a sheen of sweat built on us both. I clutch him stronger, my biceps cut sharp.

Yes, fuck yes. The pressure, the friction, his muscular body and expression, us this close together—everything compounds together in a blood-pumping, mind-fucking wave.

My ass flexes with each push in. He can barely keep his head hoisted. He’s pretty much flat against the sleeping bags. We’re about the same size, same build, and my body cloaks his, lying on top. Pounding into him. I wrap my forearm around his collarbones. And I dig deep.

“Fuck,” he groans into the sleeping bag. His legs spread wide as I fuck in between them.

Farrow lifts his head, angling and his mouth meets mine. Our tongues fight for that ache. My pulse bangs my eardrums. I dig harder.

He breaks apart from my mouth to let out a rumbled sound that completely spins my world. Farrow buries his head in the sleeping bag, stifling his groans.

38

FARROW KEENE

FUCK.

Fuck. I’m very far gone, choked up with pleasure. Water crests the corner of my eyes. His weight bears on my body. I lie on the floor.

He lies on top of me.

This is how he wants me to fuck him. Hard and deep, and unrelenting, but also protective and sheltered. Fully connected.

He grabs onto my forearms, bracing himself so he can drive deeper—fucking hell. My eyes roll back, my mouth wide open.

Maximoff groans my name in the pit of my ear as an orgasm barrels through him. My muscles throb from being flexed. He slows, milking the climax, and I try to catch my breath.

When he pulls out, he flips me onto my back. And I clutch his hair while he finishes me off with his mouth. I bite down, my pulse jackhammering.

“Fuck,” I curse as I hit a peak.

He swallows the last of my cum. And then we’re breathing hard, staring at one another, and my eyes say what blares inside my mind, we’ll have more weeks together.

Months.

Years.

It’s not ending here.

I’m going to give him what he just gave me. I tug him down, and we end up on our backs, staring at the tent ceiling. I tangle my fingers through his hair, leisurely pushing back the damp strands.

He runs his ankle against mine.

Crickets are the only sound, and the dark bathes us. Maximoff turns his head to me, and he wears this look that says he’s more than content.

He’s happy.

39

MAXIMOFF HALE

AKARA PUTS his baseball cap on backwards. “Moffy, you only have three hours until this is all over. Do you have to confront them?”

“Yes.” It’s my only answer.

We huddle around the canoe rack by the lake’s dock. Not that far away, camp-goers break down their tents and pack their bags, getting ready for the final breakfast.

Sulli and Jane stand on either side of me, our three bodyguards opposing us. Orange leaves crunch beneath our boots.

“If you heard what they said,” I continue, “you’d be pushing me towards them.”

Akara doesn’t blink. “I doubt that. We’re the ones who are supposed to handle this.” He gestures to himself, Farrow, and Quinn.

“Not you,” Farrow says for good measure, his gaze set hard on me like no fucking way in hell are you confronting someone without me, Maximoff.

I get that they’re security. I’m the celebrity. But I can’t call in reinforcements to fight all of my battles. I can’t stand like a voiceless statue. Neither can Janie. Not in this instance.

“You can come with us. Farrow can come with us. Christ, bring Quinn too. But as the CEO of this charity, I’m not going to let this Camp-Away end without saying something to them.”

Jane nods strongly in agreement.

This morning Brad, Tyler, and whatever the other three fucking guys are named—they were making lewd gestures about Jane again. Only they mentioned hogtying and fucking her, and I’m proud of the fact that I didn’t flip out on them in the moment.

I walked away with Jane. I cooled down. We came up with a plan.

But Akara doesn’t see this as progress on my part.

“I’m joining him,” Jane reminds our bodyguards. “I need to say something too. There are hundreds of girls here, and if those guys leave thinking it’s okay to say things like that—then we’ve failed. We can’t stay silent.”

Sulli stretches her arm behind me to hold Janie’s hand. “If you need me, I’m there.”

“Thank you.” Jane breaks from my side, and the two girls share a long hug.

“And?” I ask Farrow.

He lays easy-going eyes on me. Probably because I said the magic words come with me. “I think that you’re not going to change your mind.”

Yep.

He turns to Akara. “If we approach them together, it’ll seem like an attack.”

Akara considers the options. “Those guys like you.”

Farrow rolls his eyes but nods.

“You go with Jane and Maximoff.” He leaves out Sulli. I’m guessing he doesn’t want her near this altercation. Akara looks at me. “Don’t get into a fistfight.” To Farrow, he says, “Don’t let him.”

“I won’t.”

Akara emphasizes his point to me. “You’ve done good work here, Moffy. You throw a punch, and that’s all the media will talk about. Not the success. Not the money you made. Please just stay calm while you talk to them. If you can’t do that—then let Farrow, Quinn, and me handle it ourselves.”

“I’ll be calm.”

Farrow tries not to smile. “What does that look like?”

“We’re about to find out.” I look to Janie who hoists her head high, shoulders pulled back, standing tall. Like the woman who raised her. And I don’t need to ask if she’s ready.

Let’s go kick some ass.

Civilly.

WE GATHER Brad and his four friends by the row of log cabins that Camp Calloway uses for summer camps. Some people linger close to watch the interaction. There’s no privacy, but if we brought them into the camp’s office, I’m afraid I’d let my anger best me.

Janie speaks first.

“I’ve heard all the things you’ve been saying about me in particular these past few days.” She adjusts the strap of a pumpkin-shaped purse that slips down her shoulder. “That’s not how you should speak about another human being. Period.”

Brad scratches his blond hair by the temple, smirking. “So…you wouldn’t want to be hogtied then?”

His friends laugh.

Farrow has a hand on my shoulder, and his fingers dig into my muscle.

Rage bangs at my chest. My arms stay crossed. I don’t move.

“No,” Jane refutes, “and that’s not something you should be asking. It’s not kind. It’s not appropriate. If you did that to another girl—”

“Whoa.” Brad holds up his hands. “I’d never say that to another chick. But you ask for it. You’re always talking about BDSM on that show. I mean, you’re

inviting this shit. It’s your fault.”

“She talks about how she’s not into BDSM,” I snap. “Because guys like you can’t seem to understand that she’s not her mom.”

Jane adds, “And you guys don’t seem to understand the meaning of consent. Even if I enjoyed BDSM like my mom, you shouldn’t be speaking to me or her like that. Don’t be a vile person. Is it that dreadfully difficult for you?”

“Did she just compare herself to her mom?” Tyler laughs to Brad.

Brad chuckles. “I’ve seen Rose Calloway’s sex tapes and…” He motions to Jane’s body. “That’s a cheap imitation.” Fuck them.

Jane almost steps forward, but Farrow rests a hand on her shoulder now.

How is he not ready to swing? My blood is boiling. My biceps flexed, hands in fists. I swallow a thousand times to try and remind myself, do not fight them.

Do not move.

It solves nothing.

Farrow keeps his voice even-keeled and asks, “What’s the point of saying that? They’re all telling you it’s hurtful. Listen.”

Tyler nods to Jane. “Get thicker skin.”