Page 1 of Splintered Hearts

One

Noah

Oh, god, I missed this.

“You smell so good.” My skin warms with the soft purr my date makes and all I need is to get... to get... Cecil? Seth?

Not important.

Whatever his name is I need to get him naked immediately.

Exhaustion weighs me down, more than the time I’d trained for the naked Olympics during my junior year of college. I knew working for my father after graduation was going to be horrible. I just didn’t fully grasphowhorrible.

Whoever invented adulting needs a punch to the taint.

Yet, for two weeks, none of that matters.

Dear old Dad is in Germany, meeting with investors or whatever boring shit he’s doing, and he’s left me alone for two entire weeks. All by myself.

An unsupervised Noah is a dangerous Noah.

No staff.

No rules or schedules.

Just me and whoever I decide to bring home.

Is it Sirius? Sonny?

God, what is this guy’s name?

“Holy fuck,” Sebastian moans, making a meal of my neck and tickling my ear. I vibrate with impatience, wanting our clothes off already! Seth slips his fingers under my shirt, pulling me tight against his solid body.

This. This is what I need.

Being the son of one of the wealthiest men in New York has its perks, there’s no denying that. It’s just... I hate everything about it. Lately, I can’t focus or care about anything. It’s stifling, and I’m slowly losing my mind.

Suits and schedules. That just isn’t me.

Every morning it’s the same bullshit—dress in a suit that feels too tight and scratches my skin, then take my father’s town car into the city in deafening silence where I spend ten to twelve hours doing mindless bullshit.

When I finally get home, I’m too tired to even attempt to write, and lately, even read. What hurts most? No matter what I do, it’s never enough. You’d think working this hard would impress Daddy dearest, but nope. Couldn’t he be just a little fucking proud? Would it kill him?

Maybe.

I’m sure if he showed any emotion other than disdain his face would melt clean off the bone.

But so many people have it worse, I just have to swallow it. How I feel doesn’t matter. I’m a poor little rich boy with a high-paying job and a mansion to live in. Boo fucking hoo.

“What’s wrong?” Simon asks as his fingers slide against my cock, and... oh, oh yes. Whatever. Head in the game. Right now I have a tall, gorgeous man with rippling muscles looking to do dirty, unspeakable things to me.

Salvador parts my thighs with his knee, brushing my cock, and I collapse back into the wall, twisting my fingers in the soft fabric of his black shirt. “Fuck, you’re so sexy... uh...”

Wait a minute.

“You can’t remember my name can you?” Well, at least I’m not the only one. “It’s Noah.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

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