Page 66 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Then

Quentin sat on the couch with me spread over his lap, face down, his hard cock pressed between his stomach and my left hip, mine trapped between his muscular thighs.

Sweat rolled down our naked bodies as he alternated between spanking me and driving three fingers inside my hole.

Quentin had come up with the bright idea of making this part of our nighttime routine.

If we tackled my need to be spanked before the bad dreams came, maybe they wouldn’t come at all.

It worked. It had been weeks since I’d had a nightmare.

“I think we’ve unlocked a new kink, pretty girl,” Quentin said once after I almost came just from lying across his lap.

I loved it even though my past said I shouldn’t have.

But just like watching Quentin and Miguel have sex, the spankings were healing something in me, reversing some of the damage.

Maybe because it was done out of love and not hate or fear.

Maybe because it was done to center me, to save me, instead of being done to “rid me” of who I was, of what was inside of me.

Maybe because Quentin made me believe that whatever was inside of me that needed this was good, not bad.

I also loved it because, for once, it was my choice.

Eventually, keeping the nightmares away became a bonus instead of the main reason.

Miguel slouched in the chair across from us, jerking his cock while I watched. His eyes were glassy, his body shiny with sweat, and when the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his mouth, I almost came right then.

“D-don’t l-look at me like that,” he stammered, his hand working faster, his balls tightening.

“I c-can’t help it,” I replied. My back arched when Quentin added a fourth finger, hitting that spot that always made me whimper.

“I gotta get you ready for this big dick.” He pressed a forearm against my lower back to keep me still. His words made me feel shy, and when Miguel cursed, gripping his base, I knew I’d done a poor job at hiding it.

“S-sorry.” I bucked up onto Quentin’s fingers, my face getting hotter. Why couldn’t I control myself? Why did I have to want it this badly?

“Don’t be sorry,” Miguel panted. “I like you this way.”

“Fuck yeah,” Quentin grunted, removing his fingers, his slick hand crashing down on my ass cheeks again.

“Keep stroking that dick, Guelly,” Quentin ordered, spreading his legs wider to hold my writhing body steady, but not wide enough that the tip of my cock no longer knocked against his inner thighs. He liked when it did that, said he loved the feel of my wetness on his skin.

Miguel began stroking himself again, wetting the fingers on his free hand so he could play with his dark nipples. I moaned, digging my fingers into the couch cushion.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” Quentin breathed, spanking me harder, pulling a deep moan from me. “Tell me you’re a dirty girl.”

I turned my face away from Miguel, unable to look at him as I whispered, “I-I’m a dirty girl.”

Quentin’s fingers slid inside me effortlessly now, and he had to put more strength into holding me down.

I was nothing like the innocent boy they knew a few weeks ago, yet I was completely the same.

I wanted sex all the time, but it was still hard to have them see just how much I wanted it.

It made me feel dirty, and oddly, Quentin calling me dirty made me feel better because it seemed to drive them crazy in a good way.

All we did was have sex now. Before school, after school, in the middle of the night, and once during school. We’d found an unlocked supply closet and decided to ditch class.

The morning we found out Quentin had full access to his trust, we’d skipped school altogether and had sex all day—in between daydreaming about our future together.

They fucked me with their fingers, cocks, and tongues. They fucked me with my clothes off and sometimes on, hiking up my nightgown or dress, tearing through my underwear when their need became too much.

They came on me, inside me, and they let me come all over them too.

They sucked my hole, my balls, and my dick, teaching me how to suck their balls and dicks in return.

They kissed me until I was weak, near needing to be revived.

They lapped, sucked, and bit across my body like they wanted to eat me whole, leaving their marks behind.

They made me feel confident, made me feel like they’d die if they didn’t have me, especially when they bargained with each other over who would have me first. Most times, who’d have me in what order, and what sexual acts and positions we did and when came naturally.

We were in sync, our sex life a well-organized dance by now, but there were days when they were both greedy for me, starved, impatient to be inside of me.

Quentin promised they’d one day fuck my hole with their big cocks at the same time.

“Look what you do to us,” Miguel said, a leg now thrown over the arm of the chair, a fingertip dipping in and out of his hole.

He stared at me as if I were his beating heart, the one responsible for keeping him breathing, as if I also had the power to make his heart go still.

And even though I couldn’t see Quentin from this angle, I knew he looked at me the same way.

It was a power I’d never take for granted or take advantage of. My eyes welled up as I tried to convey without words that I felt the same way.

“I love you, Ellie,” Miguel choked out.

I nodded, causing my bun to collapse, my hair falling over my face and back. “Me t-too, Guelly.”

“Look at that,” Quentin said, sounding amazed, and Miguel’s gaze shot to my ass. “I’m not even moving my hand.”

His fingers were inside me but unmoving. I was the one fucking them. I almost slipped off his lap. I braced my forearms on the couch cushion, tensing as he grabbed hold of my hip.

“Fuck,” Quentin said as if he were in pain.

“That’s a lot of precum, pretty girl. It’s dripping down my legs.

” His fingers disappeared, the emptiness he left behind stealing my breath.

I lifted my butt higher, seeking, and got a reprimanding smack on the ass for it.

My forearms slid across the cushions as I flattened down on his lap from the blow.

“Unnngh!” My head snapped back, my hair tumbling down all around me.

“More, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes.” My body jerked from the pounding of Quentin’s hand, but I took it, wanting even more.

“That’s it, Ellie.” Miguel’s words of encouragement were hard to hear above the smacking sound.

“Harder?” Quentin asked.

“Yes!” I cried as Quentin’s fingers found the inside of my hole again. My body locked up.

“Oh no you don’t,” Quentin said. “My dick’s gonna be in that ass when you come, dirty girl.”

We’d moved the coffee table out of the way, and Quentin lifted me off him with ease, roughly situating me on all fours facing Miguel’s chair.

I’d been nervous I wouldn’t be able to handle Quentin, but it turned out I liked it rough too. I refused to go to bed now until I’d had both of them inside me at least once.

It was a partnership when Miguel and I had sex, but with Quentin, the only option was to fully submit. I craved both experiences.

Miguel knelt in front of me while Quentin poured lube over my clenching hole.

“More,” Miguel said to Quentin. “He’s always tight the first time, even when he’s had a good stretch.”

I whimpered as lube ran down my cleft and inner thighs. Miguel brushed his fingers down my sweaty cheek.

“It’s okay, Ellie,” he whispered. “Almost there. Quentin’s just slicking up his dick now.”

“Is he staring at you with that begging-for-dick look?” Quentin asked, one hand grabbing onto my hip.

“Yeah,” Miguel breathed, directing his cock to my open mouth, “he is.”

A rogue teardrop rolled down my cheek as his tip made contact with my tongue. Sometimes I’d cry during sex.

“It just… feels so good,” I’d said the first time they’d asked me about it.

“Remember to relax your throat,” Miguel whispered, feeding me his dick as Quentin shoved into me from behind.

“So,” Troy said, appearing out of thin air.

Quentin had me and Miguel caged in against the lockers, taking turns kissing us while everyone who passed by pretended not to stare.

Troy was the only one brave enough to actually interrupt us.

“Do I get to gloat? Say I told you so?” He held his books to his chest, a smug smile on his face.

He’d been the one to ask Quentin if we were a threesome at Darren’s house party, planting the idea in Quentin’s head.

“Not if you need your teeth to chew,” Quentin said dryly.

Troy laughed, clapping him on the back as he passed. “So violent.”

Miguel and I chuckled, too, but Quentin just rolled his eyes before leaning in again. He stiffened at the sound of Ballbuster’s snippy voice.

“How many times do I have to tell you that kissing in the halls is inappropriate, Mr. McAllen?”

Miguel and I straightened, but Quentin didn’t bother facing him when he replied. “Debbie Suck-’em-Down is swallowing Dickhead-Delaney’s unborn kids in the boys’ locker room, and you’re worried about a little kiss?”

“Language, Mr. McAllen! Or I’ll throw you in detention.”

Quentin snorted, turning around. “It’s the last day of school, Ballbuster.”

Ballbuster turned red at the use of his unwanted nickname.

“Well, then,” he said with a smile too sweet to be real, “I’ll make sure none of you walk across that stage next week.

Yes, I think that’s a fitting punishment for all the trouble you’ve given me over the years.

” Ballbuster stormed off in the direction of the gym locker rooms.

“Can he really stop us from graduating?” I asked nervously.

“Fuck no. The ceremony is just a dog and pony show. We’re Locklier graduates, pretty girl.” He slung his arms over our shoulders. “Let’s ditch last period. I’m suddenly in the mood to suck some cock.”

“Have you been inspired by Debbie Suck-’em-Down?” I asked as we strolled down the now-empty hall.