Page 35 of The Spark

She moaned as she sucked me deeper—wet, warm, so damn tight. The sound shot straight through me, a filthy vibration that had my hips jerking forward before I could stop myself.

Then I looked down.

She was a vision—glasses fogged, spit slicking her lips, her chin already shiny from how messy she was getting. And when she pushed those glasses up her nose with the back of her hand—mid-stroke—without breaking eye contact?

I twitched hard in her mouth.

Those wide brown eyes held me there, owned me. Her hands gripped my thighs, holding me steady, and then she sank downdeep. Gagged a little. Pulled back. Did it again.

Her spit coated me, dripping down my shaft, wetting her chin, soaking the top of her shirt. She tugged the hem up herself, baring her breasts for me, nipples tight, tits bouncing each time she bobbed her head.

God. Damn.

The sound of it—wet and nasty—echoed off the walls. Her lips smacked, her throat swallowed, her breath huffed through her nose every time I hit the back of her throat.

I was supposed to let her set the pace.

Supposed to let her enjoy it.

But I couldn’t.

I gripped her braids harder and thrust into her mouth—slow at first, then deeper, watching the stretch of her lips, the way drool spilled from the corners, slicking her skin.

“Take it,” I rasped.

She did. Like a damn pro.

Her hand worked what her mouth couldn’t reach, spit foaming at the corners, streaming down in thick strings that glistened on her throat, her tits, her belly.

I felt myself getting close. Too close.

She sucked harder, mouth working me like she was starving, like sheneededme. And when I came, I groaned so loud it echoed—my hips jerking, hands tightening in her hair as I emptied into her mouth.

She swallowed it all. Every drop.

And when I looked down, still pulsing, she licked the tip—slow, like she was savoring it—eyes never leaving mine.

My knees almost buckled.But I wasn’t done.

Not even close.

We barely made it to her room before I had her on the bed, kneeling for me—back arched, ass high in the air,waiting.

Her body knew what she wanted, even if her mouth hadn’t said a word.

I stood behind her, breathing heavy, watching the curve of her spine, the sheen of spit still on her chin, the way her thighs trembled like she was already halfway to coming again.

I dragged my fingers through her folds—wet, swollen, soft as silk.

“So fucking wet for me,” I murmured, pressing two fingers inside, groaning at how tight she was.

“Shit, Amaya.”

She whimpered, pushing back against my hand, her ass grinding into me like she couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the edges.

I grabbed her hips, holding her still, and slid inside her in one deep, slow,achingthrust.

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