Page 83 of Saving Sparrow
I growled, lifting him at the hips so he could wrap his legs around me. “But you like it when I get jealous, don’t you?”
Miguel combed his fingers through my wet hair, staring deep into my eyes. “Not even a little. I hate seeing you that way.”
If he’d had clothes on, I would’ve torn them to shreds with my bare hands. That was how hot and wild his answer made me. I didn’t know why I needed him to pretend he hadn’t done it on purpose. Probably because I liked when my crazy felt real, when it wasn’t based on something fake. The sex was so much better when I had something to punish him for.
We kissed hard, and fast as I reached for the lube. We didn’t bother wasting time on the I-don’t-wanna-fuck game.
I’d already stretched him with three fingers before remembering Elliott. He’d gone deathly quiet, barely breathing as he watched us.
“Want to wait for us in the room, pretty girl?” My voice sounded wrecked.
“No, I’m fine.” He backed into a corner.
Elliott playing fly-on-the-wall felt weird in the beginning because we were nervous he couldn’t handle the way Miguel and I loved each other. We’d tried to keep shit soft, lovey-dovey. That all changed when Elliott gave us the okay to be ourselves.
“Don’t change for me.”
Still, we asked him every time, giving him the option to stay or leave. He always stayed.
If he was still awake afterward—because we could go on for hours—he’d have this look of fucking awe and admiration on his face. There’d be an extra pep in his step the next day, and he smiled more often, too. It was like he gained courage from watching us go at it, like watching us was therapeutic, and maybe it was fixing something broken inside of him.
Miguel thought watching us fuck and make out validated something for Elliott. Like maybe it was confirmation or a reminder that whatever he’d been taught was wrong.
“Quentin, apurate,”Miguel breathed impatiently. He kissed along my neck, swiveling his hips as he tightened his legs around me. “Hurry.”
I slapped his ass cheek, squeezing it while speaking to Elliott. “We’ll be quick, okay? Then we’ll go to bed.”
“O-okay.”
I set Miguel down, turning him to face the wall as I slid into him from behind. Our moans were loud, and the sound of our bodies clapping together echoed all around as I shoved into him with hard thrusts.
Elliott’s stare felt like a weight on me, and I found myself glancing over at him repeatedly. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his cheeks were redder than I’d ever seen them before. He looked fucking beautiful.
“Muy bien,”Miguel whispered.
“Fucking English, Guelly.”
“So g-good,” he moaned.
“Damn straight it is.” I’d known what it meant. Miguel screamed it a lot whenever my dick was inside of him. It never hurt to hear it twice, though.
I picked up the pace, too horny to stretch things out. “Beat your dick,” I ordered him.
Miguel continued to back into my thrusts, bracing himself on one hand and grabbing his cock with the other.
“Unngh,” he moaned, his body jerking as he pumped himself.
We came within minutes, my cum filling his ass while his jizz circled the drain.
I kept thrusting into him. I never stopped until I had to, not until my dick said enough was enough. Panting, I looked over at Elliott again, this strange fucking pull making it impossible not to. I blamed it on the first-time experience. The first time he’d showered with us, and the first time we’d seen him naked.
His head rested against the glass wall as his chest heaved. My hips stuttered to a stop.
Miguel was still coming down from his orgasm, but my abrupt halt caught his attention. “What’s wrong?” he breathed, still bent over and grinding against me. He liked when I kept going after he came, and my dick was still semi-hard and stuffed inside of him.
He followed my stare over to Elliott, then slowly straightened. My cock slipped out, my cum dripping from his hole to the shower floor.
A red flush spread from Elliott’s cheeks to his neck as we stood there watching him.
