Page 32 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

“If all the other guys knew how big you were, we’d have a problem, Guelly,” he panted, his hardcore routine slipping a bit. “Well, they’d have a fucking problem. Me .”

My dick swelled as he stroked me like he owned me, his possessiveness working wonders for my insecurities and my ego.

“That’s it,” he praised. “Get it nice and big for me. My throat likes a good choking.”

“I said… I-I don’t want this.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna give it to you anyway, Guelly.” He reached over me again for more soap, stepping in so close our dicks brushed. I glanced between us, my brain glitching from the size of him.

“All that dick is for you, Guelly.” He rubbed his stubbled cheek against mine. “You ready for it?”

“No,” I blurted out, getting a little panicky.

“Mmm,” Quentin moaned, wedging his hand between us to soap up my tight balls. “I love it when you say shit like that.”

I dropped my forehead onto his shoulder, at a loss for anything else to say.

Quentin’s long arms wound around me so he could clean my back, and I stiffened when his hands traveled to my ass.

“Don’t,” I tried again when his fingers slid through my butt crack, the water following his path.

He smoothed them up and down the length of my cleft, smacking my hand when I reached back to yank his away.

“That’s enough, Quentin.” I tried to wriggle free.

He ignored my bucking, stumbling into the wall with me. The bottles rattled on the shelf.

He reached for the lube now, pumping some onto his hand before reaching below my ballsack to insert a finger into my hole.

“Fuck!” I cried out, smacking at his shoulders and shoving his face away as I tensed up. He quickly removed the finger, getting more lube before pushing it back in to the last knuckle this time. I rose to my tiptoes, the shape of an “O” on my lips with no sound.

“Your fucking ass is mine, Guelly,” he bit out, pumping in and out of me. “How many times have I gotta tell you that?” Two fingers were inside me now, and I was so hot I thought I might pass out.

“Don’t you dare,” he warned when I began to shudder. “Damn it, Guelly.” Quentin dropped to his knees, directing my spurting dick into his mouth and to the back of his throat.

Quentin squeezed both of my ass cheeks, pressing me into his face as he moaned, swallowing down my cum. I held on to his shoulders to stay upright, shaking uncontrollably.

Quentin pulled off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked annoyed, like I’d ruined all his fun. “I was supposed to suck your dick.”

“And I told you no,” I panted.

“Is a finger really all it takes?” It was supposed to be a complaint, but his eyes gleamed with his usual arrogance whenever I came without much effort. “Is it something about me that makes you come so fucking easily, or are you just a whore?”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” My voice sounded low and raspy, almost drowned out by the rush of water echoing around us.

“Oh, it means fucking everything.” He stood with a cocky smile, not bothering to ask me to soap him up. I couldn’t move at that point, too focused on what I could say to get out of whatever he planned next. Too focused on how I’d make not wanting it believable.

Quentin traced his soapy hands over his muscled arms and ripped abs, then lower. I kept my gaze on his collarbone the whole time, even when his hands vanished below his hips, and he let his head fall back on a moan.

“I-I’ll meet you in the room.” I attempted to step around him. Quentin blocked me. Tugging my head back by my hair, he stared down at me like the choice to leave wasn’t mine.

“You’re sucking my cock first.”

“I’m not sucking your dick, Quentin.”

“That’s cute.” He rinsed off quickly, then redirected the showerheads before turning the levers to cool to combat the heat and steam. He forced me to my knees, digging his fingers into the hollows of my cheeks, until I opened wide to escape the pain.

“That’s it,” he breathed, sliding his big dick past my lips. “Take it to the base. I want your fucking nose pinned against my skin.”

He forced himself all the way in, didn’t stop until my nostrils flared against his trimmed pubic hair. He smelled like body wash and musk. “Relax your throat,” he instructed when I gagged on him. I had no room left in my mouth. I could barely breathe.

I dug my fingers into his thighs, eyes wide as I tried to back off him. He froze, waiting for me to tap his hip twice. I didn’t, so he started moving, picking up speed when my eyes watered. Seeing me struggle was a turn-on for him.

Quentin came with a shouted curse, nearly taking us both to the floor with the force of it. He yanked me up by my hair and smashed his lips against mine, kissing me like his orgasm had filled him with rage.

“Alright, that’s enough.” I ripped my mouth away.

“We haven’t even gotten started.” His voice was rough and deep, dripping with aggression.

“I don’t want this,” I whispered as the sight of his dick getting hard again stalled my retreat.

“Makes me want it even more,” he whispered back before circling an arm around me. I tried to get away, but he curled his fingers tighter into my wet hair. This time when he shoved his tongue down my throat, I bit into his lip.

“Fuck!” he barked, jerking away. We stared at each other, panting hard, his dick bobbing above his navel. “You’re gonna pay for that, Guelly.” Quentin lifted me by the hips, kicked the shower door open, and marched into the bedroom. He threw me, dripping wet, onto the bed.

I bounced, then backed into the headboard as his long strides took him over to his side of the bed. He kept his eyes on me while reaching into his nightstand for lube.

“We can’t do this anymore,” I breathed as he crawled over to me, kicking in his direction to keep him back. Quentin grabbed my ankle, hauling me down to him before flipping me onto all fours.

“I’m never gonna stop,” he swore before spreading my ass and sinking his face into me.

“Unngh,” I cried out, holding still when I should’ve been trying to get away. “Stop… Please…”

“Never.”

I tried to scurry forward, but Quentin grabbed two handfuls of my ass cheeks, squeezing, holding me in place. I was delirious by the time he slipped a finger inside me, my forehead falling to the bed. “Please,” I panted again, reaching a hand back to shove him away from me.

“After the day we’ve had, I’m fucking you tonight, Guelly. Repeatedly.” His voice was unrecognizable, the warning in it familiar. My body was his, and he’d do whatever the hell he wanted with it. My heart and dick expanded at the same time.

It could’ve been an hour that passed or even ten. I was too out of my mind to know by the time I heard the cap pop on the bottle of lube.

Quentin forced me around and onto his lap, his back facing the bedroom door. We kissed, hard and savage, as he yanked me down onto him.

“I changed my mind,” I breathed, pushing at him, trying to climb off his dick. Quentin bit into my pec, not enough to break skin, but enough to make me scream.

“Shit!” That would leave a mark, but at least this time it was in a place I could hide from Elliott.

“Stop!” I shouted again as he easily maneuvered me up and down.

“Say it again,” he growled, using my body to fuck himself harder. He’d leave fingerprints on my hips.

“S-stop…” I stammered as other emotions began to swirl. Quentin licked away the tear running down my cheek.

“You’re such a crybaby,” he whispered, his voice full of love. “It’s been too fucking long since I’ve had you like this, Guelly.”

With Elliott around, it made it almost impossible for us to be together like this.

We stole moments whenever we could. Quick trips to the kitchen to grab the three of us food ended with me bent over a counter.

Stepbrotherly showers after a day of being outside that ended with me screaming into his palm as I came.

I yelled for him to stop one more time, then again because it cranked us higher every time. Pillows spilled over the mattress, and the bed shifted until it knocked into the nightstand, sending the glass of water there crashing to the floor, shattering on impact.

Elliott blew into the room then, eyes wide as he stopped short. This time when I said stop, I meant it, but Quentin couldn’t see behind him, didn’t know Elliott was now in the room.

I stuttered as I tried to get my words out. There was something I should be saying, a word I should be using. I was so afraid I couldn’t think of it.

“Wait. Stop,” I panted, but that only made Quentin fuck me faster and harder.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t know we’d just ruined everything. He didn’t see the hurt and fear in Elliott’s eyes.

He gripped my hips tighter, tugging me up and down his dick while I tried to remember the rules for stopping this. I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stare at Elliott while Quentin kept going.