Headstrong Like Us (Like Us 6)

I rock my ass into his dick.

He thrusts harder, and I lower onto my forearm. Deeper. “Fuckfuck,” I moan between my teeth. I edge further up the mattress, lifting my other knee to the bed. Maximoff follows the movement, climbing on the bed. Hooking his arms underneath mine, he bears down into me.

His sculpted body presses against my tattooed back.

Fucking…I can barely see. I groan into the mattress.

He moans, “Fuck, fuck. Farrow. Christ.” Deep grunts surge through him as he fucks me too fucking good.

His fingers brush over my nipple piercing, and light dances in my vision.

I can barely breathe.

We’re slick with sweat. Boiling hot together, and my fingers tighten around the comforter. Holding on. Being underneath him is an indescribable feeling, but what turns me on more is seeing his raw need and want for this.

I lift my head and angle to meet his gaze. Our lips find each other, heat building to unparalleled heights.

He rams harder, and I have to break from his mouth. A grunt expels while my pulse bangs.

“Don’t come,” he demands.

Fuck. Not an easy request, especially as his cock is in me and pushes against my prostate at a pace that could have me exploding in a millisecond.

I grit hard and flex harder. Not coming. Not yet, at least. And I hang onto the carnal feeling as he drives into me.

47

MAXIMOFF HALE

Holy fucking shit.

I’m unable to stop thrusting, the pressure and friction driving me up the wall. I want more. Closer. Deeper. Harder.

Farrow grits his teeth, tendons pulled taut in his neck as pleasure overrides him. “Fuck, Maximoff,” he grunts.

We’re all sweat, flesh, and burning hunger. I plant a hand on the bed, and he eases back onto his knees, on all fours, and I rise, knelt behind him. Sinking deeper into Farrow, I create hot friction with our bodies.

My pelvis pounds up against his ass. I hold his tattooed hip as I pump into him, his body a beautiful portrait of black ink.

I haven’t been inside him in a long damn time. That fact blasts in my head like a mental fuck, jerking off my brain. It steals breath from my starved lungs.

I feel like I’ve never had him—like this is our first time again. First time inside him, first time making love, first, first, first.

How the fuck can someone make me feel like every moment is as significant and powerful as the last?

How can this be possible?

Farrow rocks his ass back into my dick, and I thrust forward into him. “I’m going to come, man,” I warn in a heavy breath.

“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 with one singular 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.