Page 133 of Saving Sparrow
“Oh yeah,” Miguel said, getting back on track. “If I happen to be alone with you, or with Quentin, or if you and Quentin are alone, kissing, hugging, and cuddling is okay. No sex, no blow jobs or hand jobs, no orgasms—”
“No fun,” Quentin grumbled, his head falling back when I couldn’t help but touch his nipple too.
“—unless we’re all together,” Miguel finished. “Or unless we have each other’s permission. Got it?”
“Got it,” Quentin and I both said.
“Rule number two, we talk about everything. Well, everything that has to do with our relationship,” he amended, probably remembering there were things neither of us wanted to talk about.
“If anyone feels jealous, we say something. If we need more attention, more time, or if we’re feeling neglected at all, we say something. We don’t keep it a secret.” He glanced at Quentin then. It had been all about them for years, and even when I came along, there were still parts of their relationship that belonged just to them. We’d belong to each other equally now.
“Got it,” Quentin said, more serious and determined than he’d been since this conversation started.
“Rule number three…” Miguel lost his train of thought when Quentin lifted my nightgown over my head. My hair fell in waves over my shoulders, and Miguel sank his fingers into the messy strands.
I bit my lip to hold back the embarrassing sounds I wanted to make, and Quentin cursed, fisting his dick.
“Free that fucking lip, pretty girl.”
I did so immediately, but was glad he hadn’t asked me to stop staring at his dick. I couldn’t have—it was just too scary and beautiful.
“Rule number three,” Miguel tried again, “we have to be honest about what works and what doesn’t work for us individually. Elliott, you might enjoy watching the things me and Quentin do, but that doesn’t mean you’ll like it for yourself. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“I like it all,” I blurted out, blushing. “I mean, I’m sure I’ll like it all.”
“Okay, well, you might change your mind, and that’s okay.” Miguel went quiet, and I assumed those were all the rules. Quentin must have too because he hopped off the bed and left the room.
Miguel watched me like he wasn’t sure what to do with me or himself, and it occurred to me I wasn’t the only one having a first time tonight.
“You’ll be a great top,” I whispered. “You’re patient, and I trust you.”
“Don’t let me hurt you,” he whispered back. “Promise?”
“I swear I won’t.”
Quentin appeared in the doorway with a bottle of lube in one hand and his dick in the other. His shoulders almost brushed the sides of the doorjamb, the top of his head only an inch from the header. He was adorable. Bright green eyes, light freckles along his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, and his trimmed sandy-blond hair. His body was anything but adorable, though. Quentin was all muscle, aggression, high intensity, and dominance. I wanted him anyway. I wanted himbecauseof all that. He owned the field, whatever room he was in, and now he’d own me.
Instinctively, I flattened onto my back and planted my feet on the bed. The heel of my foot landed on a wet spot. Miguel leaned over to kiss me.
“Wait,” Quentin called, and Miguel stopped, his lips suspended above mine. “I changed my mind.”
Miguel and I both looked at him, my heart sinking from what I thought was rejection.
“We’re fucking you inourbed.” Quentin stalked over, dragging me to the foot of the bed by my ankle. “Let’s go, Guelly,” he said, lifting me into his arms and heading across the hall.
Our bedroom was dim, nearly dark, and I had to admit, the idea of them making love to me in the bed we slept in turned me on even more.
Quentin dumped me onto the bed. He was so much rougher than Miguel; I knew that. But seeing it and being on the receiving end of it as we prepared to have sex felt different. He had to have me, and it made me feel wanted.Needed.
Miguel stretched out next to me while Quentin knelt between my bent legs.
“Guelly is gonna open you up because I’m scared I won’t be able to take my time.”
“Okay.” I nodded. Miguel stretched himself while Quentin and I watched sometimes, so I knew he knew what he was doing.
“I’m gonna stroke your dick while he’s at it. Maybe even put my mouth on you a little because you taste so fucking good, pretty girl.”
My body clenched, my leaky cock making my stomach wet.
