Page 131 of Saving Sparrow
“I’m going to head up to bed now,” I said. Sparrow didn’t answer, like maybe he didn’t want his voice giving away his own thoughts.
I slowed when I reached the stairs, smiling over at the miniature tree on the living room coffee table. He’d even strung it with ribbon. I glanced back in the direction I’d come from, tempted to go thank Sparrow, but decided I’d do it in the morning after we’d both had some sleep. Maybe by then I’d remember why I’d come here in the first place.
I started my own fire that night. Sparrow now trusted me with matches. I found it hard to get to sleep, though, tossing and turning for hours as I pictured him sleeping on the floor, as I pictured the look on his face when he’d lied about there being no signal. Why hadn’t I called him on it? The answer hovered near the scary thoughts.
I pulled the photograph of me and my husbands from beneath my pillow, letting the reminder of them shatter me until I eventually cried myself to sleep.
The bedroom door was cracked open when I woke up again, but not as much as I preferred. I hadn’t slept with it completely closed ever since Sparrow stopped locking me in. Partly because seeing it closed triggered me, making me rush for the handle to make sure I wasn’t locked in. And partly because I hoped to hear him if he ever snuck into one of the rooms along the hall. I never did, butsomethinghad woken me up just now.What was it?
The armchair from the sitting room sat next to my bed, andMoonlight’s Shadowrested on the nightstand, bookmarked five chapters beyond where I’d left off. Sparrow hadn’t even bothered to put the chair back, hadn’t bothered to pretend he didn’t sit here and read to me. It was almost as if he’d rushed out of here. Rushed out and left the door open just enough to say he hadn’t closed it but not as open as he’d found it.
It was three in the morning. Where was he?
I climbed out of bed to find out but stopped before reaching the door. Glancing over my shoulder at the nightstand on the opposite side of thebed, I muttered a curse, striding over to get the key I kept taped to the bottom of the drawer.
The faint sound of running water could be heard from the hall. I followed it to the third room on the left, pressing my forehead and palms against the door.
Don’t go in…
Don’t go in…
Don’t go in…
I dug the key out of the pocket of my sweats, humming inside my head to drown out the warning voice as I inserted it into the keyhole and turned.
My mouth went dry as I slowly opened the door, sweat now prickling under my arms as I braced for whatever I’d find inside.
An open suitcase rested on the made bed, clothes spilling out of it. The bathroom door was closed, the sound of rushing water coming from within. I entered the room to fully assess it, spotting a bassinet at the end of the bed with a swaddled bundle inside. I hurried for it.
“What?” I mouthed, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
Too busy working through my confusion, I didn’t hear the water cut off. I was about to reach inside for the baby doll when the sound of a gun cocking behind me stopped me.
Blood-curdling terror seized my body when a woman with a thick Southern accent spoke. “Get the fuck away from my baby.”
Elliott
Then
“What if I don’t want to go to sleep?” I whispered. We were all hot and sticky, and so were the sheets. Miguel’s cum slid down my legs. I should’vewantedto go to sleep. I should’ve wanted to take things slow. Maybe wait until morning, at least, until we had clear heads and could set the rules and the pace. But I didn’t want to. I’d just had the best experience of my life, an experience I’d already waited long enough for.
“What if… I want more?” They hovered over me, breathing rough, the size of their naked bodies making me feel small and overwhelmed.
Quentin looked desperate, and Miguel seemed on his way there. They wanted me; I could see the strain of it on their faces, could see it in the way they swallowed.
Feeling both inexperienced and brave, I ran my fingers down their chests. They shivered in response, their pupils blown. I wrapped my hands around their hard cocks, nervous that I hadn’t done it right somehow. Quentin was thicker, more veiny and intimidating than Miguel, but Miguel was a little longer. I still wore my nightgown, but it didn’t cover my dick. Without instruction from my brain, my hips rolled against the mattress.
My face heated because even after what we’d just done, I couldn’t shake my shyness. I held Miguel’s stare anyway. “Can we do more?”
I turned to Quentin then, knowing I could convince him, knowing he lacked the same control Miguel had. “Please.”
I felt embarrassed and childish. I wanted to be more demanding like Quentin, or more decisive like Miguel—even if he was about to say no. But maybe they were okay with how soft I was, with the way I nervouslyasked for what I wanted. Their cocks grew bigger in my hands. I took that as a good sign.
Quentin made a growling sound, watching me like he was waiting for the signal to strike. “Guelly?”
“Yeah?” Miguel sounded like he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold Quentin back, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
“Give us the fucking rules,” Quentin demanded.
