Page 163 of Saving Sparrow
“I want a job.”
“You don’t need one. We’ve got more than enough money.” I never made them feel like our money was mine, never used it as leverage to get my way or hold on to them, even with all we’d been going through with Elliott. Those were my father’s tactics, and I refused to take them on. As soon as I gained access to my trust, I deposited more than enough fundsinto accounts for both him and Miguel, accounts I didn’t have access to. Although I took care of everything financially, they had their own.
“I want my own money.”
“You’ve got your own money!”
Elliott wasn’t moved by my outburst, his expression as stubborn as ever. I loved him so much, but he was slipping through my hands. I didn’t understand why holding on tighter wasn’t working, and I didn’t know what to do besides lash out. The cabin of the truck filled with the sound of our heaving breaths.
“Get out,” I said once I knew I could do so without yelling.
“W-where are you going?”
“Nowhere, I just need a minute alone to calm down. Tell Guelly I’ll be up soon. I’ll sleep in the living room tonight.”
“You’ve never slept in the—”
“Please. Get. Out.”
“Not until you tell me you’ll sleep with us.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face, my stubble pricking my palms. “I’m not in the right headspace.”
“I’m not afraid of your rage, Q. Maybe if you let it out, you won’t be such a bastard. Maybe this is what we need.”
I stared through the windshield for a while, trying and failing to slow my racing pulse. With a resigned sigh, I spoke in a whisper full of warning. “Just remember, you asked for it.”
Elliott hurried through the apartment door first. I slammed it behind me, rattling the picture frames on the wall.
Miguel appeared in the living room entryway, eyes wide. “Ellie?” he breathed as Elliott brushed past him and into the bedroom without a word. “Quen—”
I silenced him with a kiss, grabbing a fistful of his hair and backing him into the bedroom. I led him to the chair adjacent to the bed, pushing him down onto it.
“Take your fucking clothes off,” I growled at Elliott, tearing my shirt over my head as I headed for the small closet.
“Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Miguel said, still breathless from the rage-filled kiss I’d given him. Neither of us answered. Shoes and clothes hitting the floor were all that could be heard.
I yanked the closet open, the row of belts lining the door jangling on their hooks. I picked the thickest one, the leather creaking as I coiled it around my fist. Elliott, naked and hard, slowly backed away until he bumped up against the bed.
“Quentin, what the fuck?!” Miguel jumped up.
“Let him!” Elliott held a hand up to stop Miguel, then repeated, “Let him.”
“Everything’s okay, Guelly,” I said, holding Elliott’s stare. Only everything wasn’t okay because everything was slipping through my hands.
Miguel fell back onto the chair with a stunned expression.
Elliott gathered his hair into a bun before crawling to the center of the bed, ass facing me. He shot me a challenging look over his shoulder, and I stalked toward him.
I tossed the pillows to the floor, then knelt beside him. I ran my free hand over his ass cheeks, warming the skin. He curled his fingers into the sheets, hiking his ass higher into the air.
I grunted, my cock jutting toward the ceiling. A bead of precum oozed down my tip. I scooped it up, licking my finger clean.
“Warm me up but don’t tease me,” Elliott rasped. “Make every blow matter, make each one harder than the last.”
“Fuck,”I breathed, the leather creaking in my tight fist. “You know—”
“I know what to say, but I won’t. I want this.”
