Page 39 of Breaking You Open

“He’s …big.”

Lilith turns around and flashes a smirk. “Knew it. But you’re tiny, so we better not get overconfident here.” She holds up a smaller version—steel-colored, with a pink rhinestone at the end of what I assume to be the handle. “This one’s cute. It’ll do.” She pushes the plastic package into my hands.

“Cute,” I repeat, staring at it. “So this goes…inside?”

“Yeah, you stick it up there, with lube, of course, and then you need something to show it off in.”

“Are you sure about this?” The rhinestone at the end of the handle gleams in the harsh fluorescent lighting, almost as if it’s mocking me.

“You want him to fuck you, don’t you?” Lilith asks.

I nod.

“If that doesn’t get him going, I don’t know what will. Remember,” she says, hands clutching my shoulders. “Men are simple. Once they see tits or a pussy—or an ass, in your case—they’re unable to help themselves. It’s like something switches in their head—ding!”—she makes a silly face with her eyes rolling back—“and they’re helpless to the force of their primal urge to fuck the shit out of whatever’s in front of them.”

“If you say so,” I mumble.

“Trust me. If Louis damn near fucked you in the back room of his bar, he’s hot for it. All you need to do is give him an offer he can’t resist,” she adds, gesturing to my backside.

I flush and break eye contact.

“Now the lube!” she shouts, loud enough to make heads turn.

I stand there with the butt plug in my hands, wanting to sink through the ground. At the same time, I can’t wait to test Lilith’s theory and see if she’s right.

Chapter 12

Louis

I come home sweatyand exhausted from an extensive session at the gym. Working out my aggressions and horny frustrations by lifting metal used to work in the past, but now it proves as hopeless as most everything else these days.

In the past week, Sparrow’s been trying his hand at cooking, and I’ve had to taste his various forms of inedible concoctions. Last night, he made an experimental meat stew with things he found in my freezer, and I had a hard time even swallowing it while he stood by the side of the table and eagerly anticipated my verdict. “Good,” I choked out, giving him a strained smile. “It’s good.”

I expect I’ll have to force down another one of those as I step into the kitchen.

“Welcome home,” Sparrow says. He’s standing by the stove, wearing an apron.Onlyan apron.

“Thank—” I stop in the middle of the sentence when he turns around and shows his back.

His bare back. His bareass, and as my eyes inevitably zoom in on it, I notice something glinting between his cheeks.

No fucking way.

A low rumble starts in my throat, and my hands flex, longing to grab, to squeeze, to pleasure, to hurt.

The gemstone glittering between his cheeks manages to look both cute and sexy, just like the bearer of it. On silent feet, I close in, inching further and further toward the very thing I should run away from, closer and closer to his destruction and mine.

I’d like to say I practice restraint—this is what I’ve resisted for weeks; surely a bare ass and a butt plug nudged between tantalizing cheeks won’t make me lose my cool? But all it takes is roughly ten seconds for all my doubts to be eradicated by the sight of him, and in the face of such temptation, who can blame me? I’m only human, after all. I’m a man—a man with needs, and what I need is currently right in front of me.

Sparrow doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge the war currently going on in my mind. Even as I prowl toward him, I’m silent enough that I’m right at his back before he gasps and looks up at me past his shoulder.

“I’ve made dinner,” he says with a sly smile, but his initial confidence quickly dissolves into a gasp when I press up against him, nudging my crotch to his ass.

“I can see that,” I say gruffly. “What are you doing?”

“I just thought you’d be hungry after the gym.”

“Not dinner. This.” I skirt my hand up his side and cup his bare ass cheek. It’s just a touch. There’s still enough time to stop this.

---