Page 70 of Breaking You Open

Aaron. He’s here!I try to voice the words, but all that comes out is a whine, and now I’mreallyfeeling sick, the delayed nausea from the cigarette descending on me with full force. I point over Louis’s shoulder, but when he turns around and stops obscuring my view, the pillar is empty.

Aaron is gone.

I motion to Louis that I’m going to be sick, and as soon as he lets me go, I bolt to the place where I last saw Aaron. I look for him everywhere: the viewpoint, the makeshift toilets, the outskirts of the mansion, but he’s nowhere to be found.

Weird. Was he even here at all? Or was he just a figment of my imagination? Somehow, that would be even worse.

I slide to the ground with my back to a pillar, eyes squeezed shut and hands clamped over my ears to escape the overbearing music. I let out a scream—or I try to, but it comes out as a whimper: the most agonizing question I can’t seem to find an answer for.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Chapter 22

Louis

I thought I’d freakout more than I did when Sparrow took off, but I ended up having to throw out a couple of drunks, and when I was done, Sparrow tapped my shoulder and acted as if he’d been by my side all along. The rest of the night left me no chance to talk to him, so the next day is as good as it gets.

I don’t mean to sneak up on him, but it proves too tempting to resist with him lying on his stomach and watching TV in those booty shorts he loves lounging around in.

I keep my steps quiet until I’m a few inches away, then I speak up in a low voice.

“What happened last night?”

Sparrow jolts like a frightened cat. “Happened? N-Nothing happened.”

“Why did you run away from me as if you’d seen a ghost or something?”

“I felt sick from the cigarette. I thought I told you.”

“You didn’t smell like vomit when you came back. And I know what your vomit smells like.”

His cheeks turn red. “Well…maybe I didn’t puke. Maybe I just needed a break.” He turns to his back with a sullen pout to his mouth, and clearly trying to distract me, he parts his legs and glances at my crotch.

In different circumstances, I could appreciate a distraction like that, but now it just has me even more convinced he’s hiding something from me.

“You’re going to tell me the truth.”

“What truth?” Sparrow asks innocently. He plays with the strings at the front of his booty shorts, flopping them back and forth.

“That’s what you’re going to tell me.” With a knee on the couch, I lean over him, hands on his sides. His eyelids flutter, and his mouth parts as he licks his lips. It never fails to amaze me how responsive he is. “Well? What got you startled last night? Tell me.”

“Or else?” he asks with a sweetly seductive smile.

I know we’re both getting hard from this little game, but it’s not supposed to be a game, damn it; I’m worried about him! But fine by me if he wants to play it. He’s going to lose.

I lean closer and whisper into his ear, “Or else I’ll put you over my lap and slap your ass until you scream.”

He purrs.Purrs. Gone are the days when he’d get nervous from the mere sight of me—now he doesn’t even fear my threats? I can’t have that.

“Suit yourself.” With one swift motion, I grab his arms and flip us over until I’m sitting on the couch, and he’s draped over my lap, ass in the air. He lets out a yelp—from surprise if nothing else—but when I have my way with him, he’ll let out a lot more sounds than that. “Tell me.” I rip his shorts down to expose the smooth mounds of his ass, and he squirms and giggles in my lap.

“N-No.”

I bring my palm down in a loud smack over one ass cheek, and he jerks in my lap, gasping.

“You can stop this at any time.” I spank him again, harder, and he squirms and gasps as his skin blooms red. “All you have to do is tell me the truth.”

He’s panting in my lap now, his crotch humping my thigh. Damn, I never knew this would turn me on as much as it does. My cock is filling up fast, and it doesn’t help that his chest nudges my crotch every time I slap him. He’s hard as well—I feel it through the thin fabric of his booty shorts, and soon, his moans grow ragged and wanton as I rub his heated cheeks with my palm. When my fingers slide down his crack, he lets out a whine and parts his thighs further.

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