Page 34 of The Spark

He pulled out just in time, his hand stroking his length twice before he came hard, hot streams spilling across my back and ass as he grunted my name, his body shaking behind me.

We both stayed there—me kneeling, trembling, gasping. Him bent forward, one hand on my hip, the other on the couch beside me, his forehead pressed to the back of my neck.

Slowly, his fingers traced over my back, his touch suddenly gentle again.

“I’ve wanted that for so long,” he whispered. “But fuck, you just… you wrecked me.”

I smiled through my exhaustion, eyes closed, heart pounding.

“You good?” he asked softly, brushing my braid over my shoulder, kissing the back of my neck.

I nodded, voice barely there. “I’m more than good.”

14

Iwoke up hard as hell.

My body was still buzzing, still wrapped in the aftershocks of last night. My muscles were heavy with exhaustion, but my mind was back in that fucking studio. Back to the way she looked at me before everything exploded—like she had been waiting for me to take her, like she had been waiting her whole damn life.

The memory hit me like a punch to the chest—the way she bounced on my dick, her tits swaying, those filthy little sounds spilling from her mouth like she didn’t care who heard.

My hand slid over my stomach, down to where I was hard and aching, and for a split second, I considered stroking myself to the thought of her. But that wasn’t gonna cut it. Not after feeling her, tasting her, being so deep inside her that I forgot my own damn name.

I stretched out my arm, reaching for her, my fingers expecting to find the warm softness of her skin, but—nothing. The sheets were cool and empty. A heavy knot settled in my chest.

I blinked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as reality crashed in. She was gone.

I let out a long, slow breath, dragging a hand over my face. I needed a minute before I went looking for her. Because the second I got up I knew I was gonna want more. And that was a dangerous fucking thing. I knew it last night when we rushed out of the studio to get in my car and head home.

She was in my passenger seat, legs crossed, fingers dancing along my thigh like she wasn’t playing with fire. Her nails dragged over the denim of my jeans, teasing, her touch light enough to make my dick throb against the zipper.

I shot her a look, a warning, but her lips curled into something smug. Like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

“I should make you ride with your hands in your lap.

“I don’t think you want that.”

My jaw clenched when her fingers slipped lower, grazing over my hard length. I almost slammed on the brakes.

“Amaya.” My voice was rough, torn between frustration and hunger.

She grinned. “Yeah?”

“Keep fucking with me and I’ll pull over. Right here. Right now.”

She sucked in a breath, her eyes flashing with something dangerous. She wanted that.

I cursed under my breath and forced myself to focus on the road but I barely remember parking.

Because the second we stepped into her apartment, I had her against the door—kneeling, looking up at me through those damn glasses, her full lips already parting as she opened her mouth for me.

And I lost it.

Her tongue dragged up the length of me, slow and teasing, leaving a wet trail that made my knees threaten to give out. She kissed the tip, flicked her tongue across it, then opened wide and took me in like she was made for it.

“Fuck.”

My head tipped back, breath hitching, hands burying themselves in her braids. I gripped them tight, needing something to hold onto as the heat of her mouth wrapped around me.

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