Savage (Sins of the Banna #1)

by Erin Russell

Maybe I could have found wherever Micah and his mom ended up when they fled my father’s influence. They might have taken me in, and then I’d be a normal person instead of a sweaty, bullet-ridden criminal about to die on a warehouse floor, cradled in the arms of the person I hate the most in this world.

Someone who doesn’t know the texture of a person’s insides. And who hasn’t missed their stepbrother like an amputated limb for twelve years.

Nothing feels right. Nothing feels real. I reach out for him on instinct, and he frowns, but leans down and tangles his hand in mine. Exactly how we used to in the closet.

I’ve found that people will let you get away with a lot of shit when you’re doe-eyed and boyish. Hooray for twink privilege.

“Bambi?” he whispers, still staring at me with that confused expression.

I’m going to try. Even if I have to tolerate some homophobic bullshit. His recovery is going to be slow, and they don’t have anyone else to take care of him.

If Patrick has spent the last decade being a devil on his shoulder, this is my chance to be an angel. A very gay, exhausted angel.

It’s nice. He’s in control. He just keeps talking in that calm, I’m-the-boss voice and I kind of want to let Micah be in charge of me for the rest of my existence. That wouldn’t be so bad, I think. He’d make me shower and eat real food, and he probably wouldn’t let me murder anyone hardly at all.

“It’s bothering me that I’m working hard to keep you safe, and you’re willing to throw it all away just so you can get laid. I heard that gay guys were loose, but I didn’t realize my own brother was this much of a desperate slut. Can’t you go a couple weeks without spreading your legs, or is some loser’s dick worth dying over?”

“I said ‘no’. That’s final, Micah. You’re not going to slut around on my watch. Have a little self-respect and learn to get off your knees. I forbid it.”

“Shh,” I interrupt, wiggling a little on his lap for emphasis. “Look, I know you’re used to being the man or whatever heteronormative bullshit, but you don’t actually have to be a big swinging dick to have a good time in bed. There are lots of things people can do, regardless of what junk they have and how it works. And I think that you”—I slide back off his lap and push him until he’s lying down again, with me kneeling between his legs, still fully clothed while he’s naked and needy underneath me—“are secretly dying for the chance to be someone’s little pillow princess.”

“You’re so good,” he whispers in my ear. “So perfect. Just like this, spread out underneath me, getting fucked. A perfect fucking pussy.”

Gorgeous. So fucking sensitive. I knew you would be. I knew you needed this. My perfect doll. I’ll never make you fuck anybody ever again, you were meant to spread your legs for me. Such a perfect little cunt.

“That’s not what I want you to tell me, and you know it. I don’t fuck brats or boys who think they’re tough shit. I want to fuck that perfect, slutty hole of yours and remind you who you belong to.”