Page 58 of Lovers Like Us
My body saysgo, go, gethim.
In a second, we both saunter forward and bridge the distance—our bodies collide, our mouths crush together. Instinctive andstarved.
Holy fuck.I hunger for his touch, hislove.
I breathe deeply into a kiss. Gripping his bleach-white hair in a tightfist.
Farrow cups my jaw, his masculine grip driving me closer. Nearer.Fuck me.We’re pushed up against each other. Muscle to muscle. Heart hammering againstheart.
The corner of his mouth curves upwardknowingly.
Newsflash: I’m more aggressive. In a powerful kiss, I walk him backwards into the hoteldresser.
“Fuck,” he curses, his gaze rakes my build like hotcoals.
Closer, my body demands.Fucking closer.I grind forward. Our cocks confined behind the fabric of his pants and my jeans—they rub. Hot friction hardeningus.
I pull off his leather jacket, and I yank off his black shirt over his head while he lifts off my sweatshirt and tee. Our mouths return like a firestorm. Wild, crazed. Neverceasing.
When my waist bucks against him, he curses huskily. His large hand drops to my throat,fuck me.His fingers add force, and he carefully chokes me. His eyes dance all over my face. “You like that?” he whispers into akiss.
Fuck yes.Veins pulsate in my cock, and my eyes almost water in desire.More.
Fuckingmore.
I grip the dresser on either side of him, his back digging into the wood. So close, our foreheads nearly presstogether.
“Harder,” I order,breathless.
Farrow tightens his grip a fraction. Air lunges from my head, dizzying me—fuckyesfuckyes.My mouth parts, and he whispers in my ear, “You want it hard andrough?”
I could come to his voice, day andnight.
He nips myear.
Desire and need tauten my whole body. “Fuck,” I swear and grasp his jaw. I throb for greater, harderpressure.
His silver-ringed fingers dive down the ridges of my abs. He sucks the nape of my neck, bites my shoulder, my bicep—I growl out a guttural noise. Beyond fuckingaroused.
I hook my fingers in his waistband and pull him off the dresser. I watch his fingers unbutton my jeans, moving effortlessly andprecisely.
We quickly undress to our boxer-briefs, and we start wrestling for the lead. Hands everywhere, our forceful movements light up my nerves and boil mealive.
Farrow gains an advantage. With a hand to my chest, he shoves me on the king-sized bed. I catch his wrist and bring him down next to me. I top him—he flipsme.
Easily.Fuck.
Now he’s on top, and Farrow puts me in some kind of MMA lock. His forearm across my collarbones, knee splitting my legs open. And he imprisons my hands behind myback.
Our mouths a literal millimeter away, his smile rises. “Never forget,” he whispers, “I’m stronger thanyou.”
I try to combat that. And I use my strength and attempt to rip out of his grip. He bears his body down on me, and I practically fuckingmeltunder hisweight.
Ohfucking Christ.This feels better thangood.
My chin tilts upward. And my eyes nearly roll back, but I breathe through my nose. Pulse pounding.Get it together, Maximoff.Combat him. Wrestle him. Don’tmeltalready.
“Fuck,” I growl into a fucking groan.Fuckfuck.
