Page 191 of Lovers Like Us
My dad is almost there. Maybe.Progress.
Farrow seems a little off as he wraps the photograph back up, his lips drawn into a thin line. I suddenly realize it was what my dadsaid.
Stalking.
He’s thinking about thestalker.
My parents have no idea that someone is stalking me. I don’t plan to tell them or worry them. The stalker hasn’t been found yet, but now that we’re back in Philly, the possibility isimminent.
44
MAXIMOFF HALE
Iwantyour cock inside of me.I sent my childhood crush that text tonight. In this reality, not a dream or some alternate universe or as a fuckingjoke.
Legit, I told him to fuckme.
I’ve been mostly into topping him, but this night, I’m mentally on a carnal loop. Where I can’t break from imagining his cock pounding in my ass for the firsttime.
My muscles beg and plead with me to be beneath Farrow Keene, and after all the build-up to bottoming, I know I’m ready.Prepared.
My room. I’ll fuck you hard.–Farrow
Goddamn.
My dick strains against my jeans. My body and my brain are desperate for him, but I take about ten minutes before Ileave.
I enter security’s townhouse through the adjoining door. Lucking out on not seeing Thatcher or Quinn. I climb the narrow staircase to the attic bedroom, the one that mirrorsmine.
As the stairs end and I face his door, I just realize I’ve never slept in his room. Never fucked on hisbed.
Notonce.
I think about that first combining with the other first, and I may self-combust. My blood pools, body craving rough friction and strongpressure.
Fuck me.Muscles taut, I open the door and step inside. His small room is pretty bare: dresser, end table, bed, and a short bookcase with nothingshelved.
Farrow leans so damn casually on the brick wall, just watching a video on his phone, but as soon as I enter, he looksup.
I soak him in. His nonchalant and confident demeanor, the tattoos that crawl up his neck. His earring. The piercings on his nose and lip, his muscles outlined in a black V-neck. And his platinum hair, a few pieces brushing over thick brown brows that slowly rise.KnowingI’m turned on beyond humanrecognition.
His gaze rakes my body in an even hotter once-over.
I lick my lips, wanting him on them. Onme.
Inme.
Fuckme.
Tension wrings the air. His eyes meet my eyes and it snaps. We move closer, a fucking boiling urgency pulsating inside me. I pull my green shirt over myhead.
He yanks off his black V-neck.
And somehow, some damn way, my gaze drifts. To his full-sized bed, the black sheets visible beneath a pulled-down black comforter. Heat brews in the attic, even in April, and whenever he’s here, he probably doesn’t sleep with more than asheet.
That’s hisbed.
My brain fixates on that obvious fact.This is his room.I can imagine, way too well, Farrow driving his erection into me on thatbed.
