Alphas Like Us (Like Us 3)

I kick water at him.

He wipes his face and shoots me a middle finger. “I’m thinking, asshole. Give me a century.”

I laugh. About to banter back, but he distracts me by swimming closer.

Maximoff fits his body between my spread legs. And he clutches both my tattooed knees, and then his hands run up my thighs. Resting his forearms on them, he braces his weight on me, using my body as a support so he won’t have to tread water.

Our gazes cement.

Fuck, Maximoff. My nerves prick hot. “Need me to repeat the question, wolf scout?” I ask, voice husky.

“No. I heard you.” He devours me whole. “Your newest one is my favorite.”

I love that he loves the pirate wolf. “Before I got that one, what was your favorite?”

Maximoff already has the contextual meaning and significance to my tattoos. He asked me about them, back when we first started dating. It’s not a long story or some heart-aching thing.

As a kid, I was obsessed with pirates the same way that a child who grows up in a butterfly-decorated room loves butterflies. Only I didn’t have a themed bedroom.

On my desk, I had a framed photograph from Halloween where I wore a pirate costume. I was two-years-old. And my mom was holding me in her arms.

Inked on my fingers, k.n.o.t t.a.me. is a just a play on sailing knots and also being untamed. It’s not that deep. And all the skulls, pirates, daggers, sparrows, compasses, and ships are just things I loved from childhood to teenage adolescence to adulthood.

I watch his gaze roam my body with affectionate, wanting strokes. His breath shallows, and my muscles contract. I take a hand off the wet stone and glide my fingers through his brown hair, pushing the wet strands back.

He says, “I figure my favorites have to be the ones I think about the most.” His mouth is hot against the inside of my thigh, lips trailing over the outline of an inked treasure chest.

My blood cranks. “Which one do you always think about?”

Chimes sound loudly, the noise hasn’t ended, but for some reason, this one pulls his gaze.

I take my hand off his head and rub my rousing dick—that captures his attention. He’s back on me, his breath shallow, and he pries my hand off.

He puts my hand on the back of his head. And he also takes my shaft in his fist. My muscles contract. Fuck.

Fuck. His aggression stirs the blood in my veins. I’m not surprised that Maximoff knows what he wants.

I push his hair back again. “Answer me before you blow me.”

He tugs at my length. “Who said I’m about to suck you off?”

“Your eyes,” I quip, my breath knotted in my lungs. I cup the back of his head tighter. “Maximoff—”

“The wings on your neck,” he answers. “The swords on your throat. The red sparrows on your collar that fly between the masts of the ships. And the skull pirate on your ribs. Those ones I think about, all the damn time.” He lowers his mouth to my hardening cock. Taking me between his lips—fuck yes.

Pressure squeezes around me, and my muscles ignite on fucking fire. Skin blazing from more than the sun. His head bobs with the up-and-down movement of his mouth.

“Fuck,” I grunt. My feet flex in the pool water.

I could look at the breathtaking landscape. I could look at the blue horizon and the clearest sky and the majestic views, but I can’t look away from him. From his forest-greens that tunnel into me with love and sex and soul-deep need and desire.

“Maximoff,” I groan.

His biceps flex as he readjusts his support on my thighs. I sit up more, staring down at him—which he’s not the biggest fan of. He glares and tightens his hand around the base of my shaft. Fuck. He pushes my chest.

I lean back, my elbow on wet stone. My veins throb, and with my hand on his head, I feel him go up and down, up and down—the friction feels fucking incredible.

I grit down, arousal skyrocketing. I apply pressure on the back of his head, pushing his mouth further down. My cock hits the back of his throat—fuckingfuuuck.

I pulse and just come. Hard.

A groan scrapes my throat, lips closed as I clench my teeth. Fuck. My head almost lolls back, my heartbeat shoved in my esophagus.

Maximoff swallows my cum, and stroking me two last times with his hand, he pulls himself out of the water with absolute ease. And he stands over me, feet on either side of my thighs.

I look up. Water drips down his sculpted swimmer’s build, and his cock is in line with my mouth. Damn. My chest caves in a ragged breath.

I clutch his ass before he tries to put my hand there.

“No teasing,” he commands. “Just take me in your mouth.”

I roll my eyes. He’s bossy as hell, but he’s being bossier than usual. I figure out why in a split-second. His muscles bind, and he glances over at his chiming phone.

The outside interruptions are annoying him.

“You can put it on silent,” I suggest.

He leaves me, and he says, “I’m turning off my phone.”

My brows jump. He rarely powers off his phone. Because it means he’s handing off familial responsibility to another cousin, another sibling, someone else in reach other than him. “You sure, wolf scout?”

He’s at the bar, and the chiming suddenly ends. “Positive.”

“You sure we should do this?” Maximoff asks me while I massage his deltoids with lotion, our legs tangled with soft sheets. I’m careful of his healing injury, but he’s not referring to my hands.

We’re on our villa’s king-sized bed. Sheer white drapes billow off the canopy around us, and hot wind gusts through the ajar door that leads to the private pool and patio. The front door is locked.

Maximoff is referring to the laptop he just opened with no fucking hesitation. He already typed in a porn site.

Now all of a sudden, he’s slammed to a halt. “What are your reservations?” I ask, gently kneading his back muscle.

He spins around to face me, causing my hands to fall off him. Something is eating at him, and I want to call it fear—but it looks more like distress. It drives a knife in my gut.

I reach out and hold his hand.

“I keep thinking about the past three days here…” He gestures to his head. “I think about how I’ve loved every damn second. I love how we’ve just lounged in the sun, swam, fucked, eaten, and slept, but then I think, is it bad that I love that? I should want to leave the villa.”

Maximoff.

I try not to smile. “But you don’t want to,” I say matter-of-factly.

“Yeah.” He scrutinizes my rising lips, and it must be contagious because he begins to smile. “What?”

I lift my brows at him in a wave. “Man, I didn’t plan anything romantic for you outside of the villa, and you didn’t plan anything for me for a reason. And it has nothing to do with paparazzi. This isn’t a five-day unhealthy hideout from the world. It’s a five-day vacation before we link-up with your family.”

He listens closely.

“And you’re allowed to turn off your phone. It doesn’t mean you’re blocking everyone out to drown in a vice?

?there is no vice here.” I’m guessing this is the origin of his perpetual thoughts. He’s kept his phone off for three days. It’s not something he does, and there is guilt in the act, especially if he’s having a good time.

And we’ve had a lot of sex at the villa, but it’s been healthy. Not compulsive, not used to squash anxiety. See, I’ve read up on sex addiction for him. On everything I could find.

His small smile has been fading.

He needs more; I can give him more. “You don’t relax easily, but you’ve been extremely fucking relaxed the past three days.” I let go of his hand and squeeze two fingers together. “You have a big thing for ordinary shit, and I have a bigger thing for doing the ordinary shit with you.”

Breakfast in bed, massages, watching movies, laying out, swimming, showering together, these could fill his endless days. And I’d want them to fill mine too.

His eyes almost redden. “Repeat that.”

My pulse beats hard. “Which part?”

“All of it.”

I say it all again for him.

Maximoff smiles a gorgeous fucking smile when I’ve finished. “Alright. I want to do this.” He leans back on the birch headboard, taking the laptop with him. I follow suit, shoulder-to-shoulder, our ankles hooking.

“You pick the video,” Maximoff tells me, scrolling on a familiar gay porn site.

“How about you pick?” I’m definitely curious about what he’d gravitate towards, and I’m sure he feels the same about me.

“No thanks.” He eyes my lip piercing.

I smile. “Looks like we’re at a standstill.” And you want to kiss me.

He’s so impatient that he ends up scrolling and clicking into an amateur video. I skim the title: Two Passionate Guys Make Love!

“Shut up,” he tells me.

“Didn’t say anything.” But my smile touches my cheeks, and I do say something now. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make love, wolf scout, and being honest here, I’d say it’s a preference of yours.”