Page 134 of Saving Sparrow
“Whatever you do, don’t come,” he warned, wrapping a hand around the base of my cock. That helped, and I nodded again.
Miguel turned my head his way, and I met his kiss. Sweat streamed down my neck, my hairline damp with it, and they hadn’t done anything more than want me desperately yet.
“Try to relax,” Miguel whispered, kissing my lips and cheeks repeatedly. I closed my eyes, focusing on the path his lips took along my face, catching the rhythm and predicting where his kisses would land next. I flinched when Quentin’s hand slid behind my right knee.
“You’re okay, Ellie,” Miguel breathed. “We’ve got you. We’d never hurt you.” He said it over and over again until my limbs loosened.
Quentin guided my leg up and out to the side, holding it there. He jerked me off slower than I thought he’d ever be capable of, using my precum to do it.
“It’s going to feel uncomfortable at first,” Miguel said. “The key is to try to stay relaxed and bear down.”
“Okay,” I panted, Quentin’s hand on my cock driving me wild. Miguel kissed me, and needing something to hold on to, I grabbed at his hair.
Quentin let go of my dick, and I whined into Miguel’s mouth. Something warm and wet drizzled over my butt.Lube.Lots of it.
Quentin sucked my dick into his mouth, and I gasped, back bowing off the bed. He sucked me with barely any restraint, and I wanted to ask how he expected me not to come. I couldn’t form the words.
“Breathe,” Miguel instructed. Quick, shallow breaths were the best I could do.
Quentin popped off me, pouring lube into Miguel’s outstretched hand before giving him room to reach between my spread legs. “Dammit, pretty girl. Your cock was made for sucking. Your ass better be ready for me, Guelly. I need to comehard.”
Miguel and I moaned at Quentin’s filthy words, but then the tip of Miguel’s smallest finger found my hole. I cried out when he slipped it inside of me, my leg jerking in Quentin’s hold.
“Easy.” Miguel stroked my hair as he started the kissing pattern along my face again.
Lips…
Cheek…
Lips…
Cheek…
Nose…
Cheek…
The feel of his lips and Quentin’s stroking hand transported me to a calming place.
“Ready?” Miguel asked.
“Yeah.”
Miguel eased his finger in and out, slowly giving me a little more at a time until he reached the last knuckle.
Quentin alternated between sucking just my tip, jerking me off, and holding my orgasm back. By the time Miguel had three fingers in, precum soaked my stomach and Quentin’s hand.
“I-I’m sorry,” I said, unable to control the way my body arched and rolled, the way my hands fisted in Miguel’s hair. What they were doing to me felt good, but I also felt ashamed for wanting it as much as I did.
“Don’t ever apologize for wanting our hands on you, pretty girl. Or for wanting our dicks inside of you. Because we damn sure won’t ever say sorry for wanting this sweet, tight hole of yours.” Quentin licked his lips, watching Miguel plunge his fingers in and out of me.
Miguel kissed me again, more urgently this time. I made a needy sound at the back of my throat as I tried to keep up with him. His face was damp with sweat, too, his body trembling. “Now,” I breathed. “I need… something… n-now.”
“Almost there,” he promised, easing another finger in. I gripped his hair tighter with one hand, the other bunching the sheets.
I peered down my chest, watching Quentin’s fingers bump up against Miguel’s wrist as he jerked my cock while humping the air. He spread his knees wider, his hips snapping, precum splashing around as his dick bounced off his abs.
“You see that, pretty girl?” he asked. “See the way Guelly’s fingers disappear inside of you?”
