Page 63 of Saving Sparrow
“Quentin,” I tried, but his hands were already in my wet hair, his fingers scraping along my scalp. Suds trickled down my neck and shoulders, and I sighed, tilting my head back.
“You and me forever,” Quentin breathed next to my ear. His fingers stopped moving when I didn’t repeat it. “Say it,” he demanded. He used the same tone he used on the field. He meant business.
“You and me forever.” I decided not to make him sweat for it. I loved fighting him, but we hadn’t had this type of connection in months. Not this intense, at least. As much as I missed this part, I missed the next part even more.
Quentin turned me to face him, keeping my head angled as he backed me further under the showerhead. Water poured over my hair and down my back as he massaged my scalp.
A few minutes later, his hands left my hair. My eyes fluttered open, and I tried to form the words to tell him I didn’t want what his gaze suggested, but the heat and steam left me too lightheaded to think.
“Quentin, I… I…”
“You what?” he asked mockingly, reaching over my head to pump a few squirts of shower gel into his palm. He rubbed them together before laying both hands on me, soaping up my shoulders and chest, the water still rushing down my back.
“I want you to stop,” I finally got out, even if the words were barely a whisper.
Quentin chuckled, his soapy hands sliding along my neck and squeezing. “It’s too late for that, Guelly.”
Guelly was an extension of the second syllable in my name. Quentin made sure to use the nickname when he got like this. When he was in the mood to be mean, but wanted me to know he was still in control of himself. It sounded soft and loving coming from his lips, even when his touch felt hard and hateful.
“I can soap myself up.” I knocked his hands off me. I tried to turn to the shelf of bottles behind me, but Quentin held me in place with a palm at my nape.
“I know you can”—his green eyes held me hostage—“but I wanna do it.” It would’ve taken a fight to get him to let me do it on my own, a fight I wouldn’t have won.
I shivered as he worked his free hand down my chest and past my tensed stomach. I grabbed his wrist, my mouth opening, but no words came out.
“Say it,” he dared me, pretending he couldn’t rip from my hold if he wanted to. “Sayit.”
“S-stop,” I stammered.
Quentin’s smile was smug as he leaned in to speak against my ear. “Fuck no.”
I swallowed, body vibrating as his palm tightened on the back of my neck. He picked up where he’d left off, dipping a soapy finger into my navel before fast-tracking it down to my dick.
“If all the other guys knew how big you were, we’d have a problem, Guelly,” he panted, his hardcore routine slipping a bit. “Well,they’dhave a fucking problem.Me.”
My dick swelled as he stroked me like he owned me, his possessiveness working wonders for my insecurities and my ego.
“That’s it,” he praised. “Get it nice and big for me. My throat likes a good choking.”
“I said… I-I don’t want this.”
“Yeah, well, I’m gonna give it to you anyway, Guelly.” He reached over me again for more soap, stepping in so close our dicks brushed. I glanced between us, my brain glitching from the size of him.
“All that dick is for you, Guelly.” He rubbed his stubbled cheek against mine. “You ready for it?”
“No,” I blurted out, getting a little panicky.
“Mmm,” Quentin moaned, wedging his hand between us to soap up my tight balls. “I love it when you say shit like that.”
I dropped my forehead onto his shoulder, at a loss for anything else to say.
Quentin’s long arms wound around me so he could clean my back, and I stiffened when his hands traveled to my ass.
“Don’t,” I tried again when his fingers slid through my butt crack, the water following his path. He smoothed them up and down the length of my cleft, smacking my hand when I reached back to yank his away. “That’s enough, Quentin.” I tried to wriggle free. He ignored my bucking, stumbling into the wall with me. The bottles rattled on the shelf.
He reached for the lube now, pumping some onto his hand before reaching below my ballsack to insert a finger into my hole.
“Fuck!” I cried out, smacking at his shoulders and shoving his face away as I tensed up. He quickly removed the finger, getting more lube before pushing it back in to the last knuckle this time. I rose to my tiptoes, the shape of an “O” on my lips with no sound.
