25
Flynn
Pa decided to tell me all about his and Saige’s s*x life since I didn’t sleep in the cabin to hear it for myself. If he hoped to make me jealous, create an urge in me to take myself in hand, he failed.
Tuning him out didn’t work, and after his second night by the fire of putting into words how good her soft flesh felt under his hands, how easily her skin bruised beneath his fingertips, I’d reached my limit.
“Don’t need to hear about your marriage bed, Pa,” I stated through grit teeth while tossing Dog one of the hare bones from dinner that curdled in my stomach thanks to Pa’s tales.
“Just trying to sway your mind the p***y way since you’re a faggot, boy.”
“I’m not a faggot.”
“You’re not, huh?”
I could feel Pa’s dark gaze on me, but I busied myself stirring the fire’s coals
