Page 32 of The Spark

He lifted me, carried me to the table, and sat me on the edge like he couldn’t wait another second. Then he dropped to his knees.

His hands parted my thighs with reverence and hunger.

“You know how many nights I’ve thought about this?” he said, voice hot against my skin. “How many times I regretted not finishing what I started?”

I couldn’t speak. Could barely hold on.

His lips brushed the inside of my thigh. Then again, higher. Then—finally—he kissed me right where I ached.

He didn’t tease. Didn’t waste time. He opened me with his mouth like herememberedme.

Like he’d beenstarving.

“Fuck—” I gasped, one hand against his head, the other gripping the table.

He groaned as he sucked my clit into his mouth, his tongue working me slow at first, then faster, deeper.

He slid two fingers inside me, curling just right, and I nearly came undone.

“Oh my God, Amir?—”

He hummed against me, the vibrations making my entire body jolt.

I was shaking, grinding against his face like I couldn’t get close enough. My orgasm built sharp and fast, cresting hard as I came with a cry, his name the only thing I could form around the pleasure ripping through me.

He didn’t stop. Not until he had every last tremor.

When he stood, I pulled him into a kiss, tasting myself on his lips. His dick was already rock hard, thick and leaking as I reached between us and freed him.

He grunted, teeth grazing my jaw as I stroked him once, twice.

He picked me up again, this time carrying me to the couch. Sat down. Pulled me on top.

I straddled him, hands on his shoulders, thighs still trembling.

“You sure about this, A?” he asked, breath ragged.

I didn’t even blink. “Yes. I need you.”

His hands gripped my hips as I sank down onto him, inch by thick, aching inch, until he filled me completely.

We groaned in unison—years of tension, heat, love, and lust crashing between us.

I stilled for a moment, breath caught, head falling back as I adjusted to the stretch. He was deep. Deeper than I remembered from dreams. From the way I imagined him pressing inside me during those lonely nights with just my fingers and memory to keep me company.

“Fuck,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “You feel…”

“Say it,” he groaned, hands flexing on my hips.

“Big. So fucking deep, Amir.”

His eyes were locked on mine, dark with hunger. “That’s right. Take all of it.”

I began to move, slow and careful, rolling my hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding down on him, savoring the thickness of his length sliding against every sensitive inch inside me.

“Goddamn,” he hissed, jaw clenched. “You ride so good. So fucking good, baby.”

His hands slid up my body, cupping my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples as I rode him with slow, wet precision. Every drag of him against my walls had my breath catching, every shift of his hips making my knees tremble.

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