I face forward, my head hanging slightly, and I relax my muscles. He clutches my waist, and then he slides one finger along me until he pushes inside.
My jaw just unhinges, the pressure enough to cage breath in my throat. He grazes against my prostate. I moan, “Fuck,Maximoff.”
I try to breathe full, deep breaths. He pushes another finger inside, teasing me open for a while. I glance back when he retracts his fingers.
Maximoff grips his shaft and pushes up against me. His warm breath heats my ear. “Do you need me to go slow?”
I’d smile if I weren’t burning up alive. “No.” I look back and seize his gaze hard. “Take me however you want.”Thatidea fists my erection.
Both of us still standing, he gently eases into me, and my head turns towards the brick, my eyes nearly shutting at that body-shakingpressure.When I take all of him, his chest welds to my back, and he starts thrusting.
Fuck…I let out tangled, low moans. My hand in a fist on the brick. His fingers dig into my hips, his pace is deep and fast and hypnotic.
I lose myself to the rhythm. My mind floating off without my fucking body. With my free hand, I reach down and stroke myself. Only twice because his right hand drops off my waist, andhegrips my hard shaft. Maximoff adds friction everywhere.
I extend my arm backwards and grab his ass. His muscles flex beneath my palm with each thrust deeper.
I moan and grit down.Fuuuck.
Our bodies buck forward with the intense rhythm, and I clench my teeth, the pleasure rippling through my red-hot veins. Barely even looking at the brick in front of me—my eyes are in the back of my head.
I come, and his groan thunders low in my ear, “Farrow.”
His body rocks against me, milking his climax while I catch my breath. I rest my forehead on my bicep, sweaty palm on the brick.
He wraps his arm around my abs, very compassionately and comfortingly. I can honestly say that I’ve never been fucked that well.
Maximoff Hale is something else, and from start to finish, I can’t imagine anyone else having him but me.
19
MAXIMOFF HALE
Multiply my fantasiestimes a fucking gazillion and that’s how I’d describe last night.
It surpassed anything my mind could conjure.
Farrow set his phone alarm for 5:40 a.m. before we fell asleep in my bed. Just so he could leave before Quinn notices he’s missing. Somehow we wake an hour earlier.
Must be the newness, excitement—or my idiotic brainthankingme repeatedly for giving into its six-year-long demands.
I lie on my side. Beneath my white sheets and orange comforter. Turned towards my bodyguard. Buck-ass naked, both of us. Farrow is propped on his elbow, and he runs his hand through my hair. Inspecting the roots.
“You need to dye it soon,” he tells me.
I lick my lips, thinking. I have a routine with one-night stands. Inevertalk about myself. Never ask them anything too personal, not about to lead them on. I walk them downstairs and call a private driver to take them home safely.
I never see them again.
This is so fucking different.
Farrow’s hand drops when I sit up against my headboard. He follows suit and studies my sharpened cheekbones and downcast eyes. I’m staring at my knuckles. And I realize,I’m nervous.
“Sore subject?” he asks.
I look at him, his stabbing gaze and neck tattoos naturally intimidating. I find comfort in all of it. “Why do you think I dye my hair?”
Farrow pauses for a millisecond. “You love your dad.”
