Page 14 of Breaking You Open

“Yeah, I figured it was something like that.” Ravi fishes a joint from his sleeve and holds it up. “You mind?”

“Yes, I fucking mind. Go outside if you have to smoke.”

“But I want company,” Ravi says with the joint dangling between his lips.

I roll my eyes. We end up on the patio at the back of my apartment, seated on my rickety lawn chairs.

“You’re seriously not going to tell me what was up with that guy?” Ravi asks as he lights his joint. “I know that face of yours when you opened the door. Your postorgasm face.”

I stare at him. “I don’t even want to know.”

“Well?” He blows a cloud of smoke in my face, and I don’t know if I’m getting a contact high or what; I wouldn’t usually be inclined to tell him shit. Or maybe it’s just that the morning has rattled me enough to catch me off guard.

Sipping a cold cup of coffee, I stare glumly into the distance. “His name is Sparrow.”

“And what did you and Sparrow get up to?”

“You already figured it out, didn’t you, genius?”

“Knew it!” Ravi laughs and slaps my thigh. “A little young for you, though, isn’t he?”

Yeah. Way too young. I shouldn’t even have brought him home in the first place, let alone let him suck me off, but it’s simple, really: I like to give horny little twinks what they want. Like that green-eyed, black-haired vixen who strutted into Moe’s Den like he owned the place. He sucked me in right away—confident, arrogant, and with the obvious, burning desire to get on his knees. Turns out he had another guy to get on his knees for. My fists clench at the thought.

Sparrow isn’t like that guy at all. For one, he’s younger, and he sure acts like it. Two, he’s painfully unsure and uncertain, even though he tries hard to hide it. But he’s eager, I’ll give him that. And who was I to refuse him when he begged me so sweetly to suck my cock?As a favor.

I snort. Fucking kid. It’s fine either way; I’m unlikely to ever see him again, and if he shows up at Joshua’s next week, I’ll gently turn him away. It’s no place for someone like him. He’s too easily manipulated—too easily taken advantage of by assholes like Eric Fletcher.

And assholes like me.

I sigh and stretch out on the patio chair. Yesterday’s chest workout and subsequent late night are reminding me of my age. Getting older isn’t all bad, but there are more negatives than positives for sure. I would prefer if my ability to control my temper improved with the years, but instead, the opposite has shown itself to be true. Makes no fucking sense. Not a lot in my life makes sense, anyway. Everything seems to have gotten worse lately too.

My anger. My ability to keep up appearances. My self-control in not letting boys half my age suck my cock and hump my leg like their life depended on it.

“Stop with the grumpy act,” Ravi says. “You look like a dude that hasn’t just gotten his dick sucked.”

“Shut up,” I say, but a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth—something only Ravi has the ability to conjure. “It was a one-off with that kid. He’s far too young.”

“Oh, you don’t need to tell me,” Ravi says with a grin. “Is he even eighteen?”

“He told me he turns twenty-one in the spring.”

“Yeah.” Ravi snorts. “So what happened?”

I lean my elbows onto my knees and stare darkly into space. “Eric Fletcher happened.”

“Ugh, not that dude again,” Ravi groans. “Did you know Anthony said he fucked his girlfriend when he was out of town, and she was drunk and high out of her mind?”

I give a muffled groan in reply. “We need to get that guy fucking banned.”

“Wouldn’t count on it; he’s Joshua’s high school buddy.”

I grimace. Yeah, that explains it.

My phone rings, and I shove my hand into my pocket with a scowl. “What?” I bark into the phone.

“Are you sure that’s how you want to open this up?” the president of the Black Claws MC, Maurice, grumbles at the other end of the line.

“I’m busy.”

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