Page 45 of Breaking You Open

I inhale a deep breath, exhale it, and yank him into my arms. I embrace his thin body, my skin pressing tight against his, and the staggering relief I feel takes me entirely by surprise. Everything that previously felt wrong and terrible fades away, and the world narrows down to this boy in my arms. This brave, stupid boy.

“Louis,” he chokes out, clutching me tight. “Louis…” He’s crying now, I know he is, evidenced by his hitching breaths against my shoulder.

“Shh, I know. I know.”

His crying stops, and he looks up at me with a sudden flare of anger. “Don’t ever do that to me again. Don’t you dare drop me off like that!”

“I won’t.”

I would say I’m sorry, but why should I be sorry for trying to do what’s best for him? He doesn’t deserve the baggage I bring with me, and I don’t deserve to have him. But I want him; Ineedhim. This I know for sure, and for once in my life, maybe I should let myself be what he needs too.

He reaches onto his tippy-toes, and his lips are soft against mine as he brings our mouths together. I groan, clutching onto him tightly, and when I suck his lower lip into my mouth, he whimpers. He tastes of rainwater, mint chewing gum, and something else. Something familiar…

I pull back. “Did Ravi give you a beer?”

Sparrow raises a brow. “Does it matter?”

No. I suppose it doesn’t matter. Not with his sweet mouth covering mine and his arms slinging around my neck. The groan I let out is filled with the long years of denying myself this—years of being alone, with only meaningless hookups to fill the void—and I’m suddenly dizzy with everything I want to do.

I start by shoving him into the wall and gripping his ass. He doesn’t miss a beat; he wraps his legs around my waist as I devour his mouth and knead his ass. Desperate sounds spill from us both, and our tongues entangle eagerly, mixing our saliva, our essence, our hearts beating as one.

I carry him to the bedroom and lay him down on the bed, and I can’t get his clothes off quickly enough. I yank him halfway down the mattress with the force I use to tear his pants off along with his underwear. Then I’m on him again, ripping his shirt up, kissing his stomach, licking his pink nipples. He gasps and arches into my touch, erection pressing hard against my belly. As I sink my weight onto him, he parts his legs willingly for me, spreading himself, wanting me where I want him.

“Good boy,” I mumble into his mouth. “Open yourself up to me just like that.”

He preens at the praise, whining with it. “Louis…”

I tumble over him like a hungry wolf, bending his legs backward to get at his sweet prize: his beautiful pink hole. I kiss him there, gently at first, then I swipe over him with my tongue, lick him from the base of his cock, over his smooth, supple balls, and then back to the hot little clench of his hole. He tilts his knees upward, and his thighs spasm as I grab onto him and bury my face between his cheeks. I kiss his hole again and again, sucking and slurping up my own spit.

I pause with my hands on him, and the sight borders on obscene—my rough hands clutching his tiny ass and my thumbs prying open his even tinier hole.

“You’re so tight here,” I mumble. “Are you sure you can take my cock?”

“Yes,” he gasps. “Please yes.”

“You can beg, but that doesn’t mean it’ll come true,” I say with a smirk before I push a finger inside. Sloppily wet as he is from my saliva, it goes in without much resistance, and his head flops back, his tangled mess of hair spreading around him like a halo.

I reach for the lube and a condom. The whole time, I keep a hand on his thigh, trying to make him feel safe, trying to let him know without using words that I’ll take care of him, that I’ll try to make this pleasurable for him, though some pain is probably inevitable given our difference in size.

I coat my fingers in lube and stretch him carefully open on first one finger, then two. I wait until he’s relaxing—until his rim stops spasming around me and he’s rocking his hips toward my hand. Then I open the condom packet, cover my length, and fit my cockhead to his opening, just letting it rest there at first, letting him feel the girth of it.

The whites of his eyes gleam in the darkness, and his breath hitches as he stares down between our bodies.

“Are you scared, little Sparrow?” I ask.

“N-No,” he gasps. “Do it.”

“We don’t have to.”

“But I want to. Don’t you?”

“I do.” I hike his knees up further, folding him nearly in half. “More than you know. Are you ready?”

“Yes. Yeah, oh shit…fuck…” His words dissolve into a string of curses as I lean forward, sinking into his body.

“Language,” I groan, pausing with just the tip inside.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers. “Sorry.” When I sink deeper still and my cockhead forces his tight rim to expand, he sucks in a breath and pinches his eyes shut.

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