Page 32 of Catching Sparks

A dirty curl of his mouth, and then my shirt is bunched beneath my chin, the swell of my breasts exposed behind the purple lace of my bra. Before I can suck in another breath, that’s gone too.

Garrison stares at my bare chest. At the two silver hoops through both nipples. He swallows so hard his throat bobs in a way that looks painful. I stay silent, waiting for his words, the praise I ache to hear from his tongue.

“Gorgeous,” he rasps.

Pleasure shocks between my legs, making me tighten around nothing. Around an emptiness that has me snapping out my hand to grip his wrist, desperate. His pupils flare as I bring his hand to my breast and moan at the heat and friction on my achingly hard nipple.

“Fuck,” he spits, squeezing his fingers over my flesh as I jerk my hips to meet nothing but the empty air between us.

“Hard and fast. Please.”

Slowly, his head moves side to side in refusal. “Careful, or I’ll make you wait for it.”

Heat flushes my cheeks. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

Garrison abandons my breast, and before I realize what he’s doing, he has his fingers curled around the waistband of my jeans and is tugging them down my legs. I help him get them off and then kick my boots across the room and rip my shirt over my head before he’s on me again.

I spread my legs wide, and he wastes no time in settling between them, his mouth dropping to my chest to suck a nipple deep between his lips. Bliss ignites in my chest, melting my bones as I jerk and arch off the mattress toward the hard, hot body above me.

“Yes,” I coo, gripping his neck.

Deep, dark eyes watch me beneath heavy, fluttering lashes as he flicks that cruel tongue over my nipple and around the metal looped through it. Teeth brush my skin before they bite down on the ring and tug softly.

I shudder, my lips parting. “Do it again.”

“Manners, Poppy,” he warns, releasing the ring and swapping nipples.

The air is cold on my wet breast, increasing the torment rushing through me. It’s not a hit to my pride to give him what he wants. Not right now. “Please do that again.”

He gives me what I want. I curl my toes to the point of pain when he tugs at the silver and watches my reaction carefully, memorizing it.

“Good girl. Say it again.”

“Please!”

Harder than the previous time, he pulls at my piercing. Again and again, he swaps between my breasts, giving my nipples more attention than they’ve had in years. But it’s not enough. It’s so fucking far from enough.

My panties are wet, sticking to my pussy like Velcro. Garrison doesn’t delve a hand between my legs to learn this for himself, and that is so not acceptable. Not when I’m about ready to shove his pants down and bury his cock in my throat.

It’s an effort not to scream when finally, as if sensing where my thoughts have gone, he begins to drift those long fingers down my stomach. I grip the comforter, not trusting myself not to shove his hand where I ache for it before he’s ready.

He shifts himself down my body, following the slide of his hand until he’s dropping off the bed, his knees finding the floor. My tongue goes numb when he pinches the thin band of my purple panties and pulls it so hard it snaps. The burn from the tug against my skin doesn’t matter the moment he tosses the scrap of fabric aside and touches me.

Dragging a knuckle over my slit, he growls, “You’re drenched. Fucking soaking my finger.”

“Most men consider that a good thing.”

He parts me with two fingers and leans in, rubbing his nose over my clit. “Don’t speak of other men when I’m seconds away from burying my tongue inside your pussy, or I’ll leave you like this. Unsatisfied and begging for it.”

His dirty words have me burning, a living fucking flame before him. I like them. Love them. I’ve always enjoyed dirty talk. Praise sends me spiralling. I know my body better than anyone ever will. There’s power in knowing what you like and not being afraid to vocalize it. But with Garrison, I don’t seem to need to speak the words aloud. He’s too observant for that.

“Maybe you’d like that. To have to beg me for pleasure. Is that what you want?”

“I want you to make me scream, Garrison. Use your mouth or your hands or, better yet, your cock. Just please, make me come. I feel?—”

“I know what you feel.”

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