Page 192 of Lovers Like Us
Fuck.I blink a few times. I’ve been staring faraway. I grimace and focus on a six-foot-three Yale graduate who rests an elbow on the dresser. Watchingme.
His mouth curves upward. “Welcome back, spacecadet.”
I scowl and unbutton my jeans. “I barely spacedout.”
His smile widens. “Let me ask you something. How many times have you fantasized about me fucking you on mybed?”
Christ. Am I that fucking obvious? “Zero,” I sayflatly.
He whistles. “You’re a terribleliar.”
“Maybe once,” I correct andnear.
Farrow unbuckles his belt. “Maybe once?” he repeats like I’m still lying. I’m just way underestimatinghere.
“More than once,” I amend, my muscular legs knocking into his. I grip the dresser beside his bicep, and he unzips my jeans, our eyes notdetaching.
We both step out of our pants, and my gaze drops to his black boxer-briefs, his cock long against the fabric like mine—fuckme.
I almost instinctively arch my hips forward to thrust. My grip tightens on the dresser, my breath already ragged. I palm him above the fabric, and he grows harder beneath myhand.
Farrow grits down in arousal, biceps flexed. And then he clutches the back of my head, the masculine force something I fuckingcrave.
He sucks the sensitive skin on my neck, his teeth biting—fuckyesfuckyes.
My muscles contract. “Fuck,” Igrowl.
He pulls back and our eyes hit as he says, “Tell me what I did to you more thanonce.”
I heat. “You want details?”About myfantasy.
Farrow eyes me with an edging smile. “Yeah. Give me the details, wolf scout.” He lowers to a knee, rolling my elastic waistband down with him. I’m buck-naked, my rock-hard cock begging for force, but more than that, I want to seehis.
“Take off your clothes and maybe I will,” Isay.
He rolls his eyes. “Maybeyouwill.”
“I will,” I say firmly. I rake a hand through my thick hair, dying for pressure. “Or I could go take a nap, find the meaning of lifealone—”
Farrow stands, just to remove his boxer-briefs.Fuck.His erection seems larger than I last remember. I’m staring.Hard.
His knowing smile returns. “That’s going to be inyou.”
My breath shallows, and we kiss twice before he breaks from my mouth and kneels again. I clutch the dresser while he grips me, the pressure on my shaft torching my nerves. A coarse noise scratches mythroat.
Farrow almostpauses.
Tell him my fantasy.“You push me on your bed. Not angrily. Just in the moment…” My head tries to tilt back, his mouth wrapped around me. Moving back and forth, back and forth. “Fuck me,” I groan, my knuckles whiten on the dresser, sweat built on myskin.
My waist bucksforward.
His hand replaces his mouth before I choke him. “Andthen?”
“It ends,” Ilie.
He’s about to stand up, but I clutch his shoulder. Keeping him on his knees. “Then we wrestle for the top, and when you beat me, you fuck me how you usually fuck all guys.” Any other detail bursts in mybrain.
Farrow rises to his feet, an inch taller, amusement behind his eyes. “Man, you don’t know what I do when I usuallytop.”
