Page 132 of Alphas Like Us
I breathe out and click into some articles that Uncle Ryke sent me. All for stretch rehab on my collarbone. I’m not supposed to try any of these until eight weeks post-surgery. It hasn’t even been four weeks yet, but maybe one workout won’t be thatstrenuous…
A lube ad on the sidebar distracts me, and I immediately imagine Farrow. Buck-ass naked, pirate ships, skulls, and sparrows inked all over his six-foot-threebody.
He’s standing at the end of my bed. Grinning because he knows he’s aggravatinglysexy.
My veins pulse, skin hot to the touch. I rest my head back. And I try to stop myself from fantasizing by unscrewing the flashlight with two hands. Dumping out the batteries and refitting themin.
These past few weeks, sex has infiltrated my mind like hot-and-bothered battalions. I’ve always had fantasies. Always drifted. And it’s never affected my job orrelationships.
But I’m more concerned that it will now that I have all this freetime.
My phone pings. I desert the broken apart flashlight and click into thetext.
In your thoughts, what position am I in?–Farrow
I almost rock back. Goddamn, I did not expect that response. We’ve sexted before, and I gauge the healthiness of it now. Seems enormouslynormal.
It’s not disrupting my life. And he initiated it. All pros at the moment. So I type and retype a sentence before settling onthis:
Under me. On top of me. All overme.
I send the text, and somethingthwacksmy window. I point my cellphone’s light at the window since I dismembered the real flashlight. My curtains blow softly, and I strain myears.
No street hecklerstonight.
Huh.
There are no trees near my window. So it couldn’t have been a branch. I remember that I checked the front door after Janie and Luna went to bed. It’s locked.They’resafe.
My phonebuzzes.
Sounds vague. Needs more adjectives.–Farrow
I groan in frustration. Sexual and just plain annoyance. I type two wordsfast:
Fuckme.
Sent.
My mind tries to crawl into my spank bank and pluck out images of Farrow sliding his dick between my lips—another text comesthrough.
Smartass.–Farrow
I don’t overthink for once and justtext:
You’re putting your cock in my mouth. I can taste you beneath mytongue.
I sendit.
He replies evenfaster.
We’ve now established that you don’t know what an adjective is.–Farrow
I’m smiling and glaring as I text back:or I just don’t likethem.
My dick is starting to throb, especially as I picture Farrow straddling my shoulders with me lying back. His inked abs right up against my face, along with his cock. I take him between my lips, and Farrow clutches the back of my head. Gripping protectively. Tightly. I bring his length to the back of my throat—thwack.
What the fuck isthat?
