Page 24 of The Spark Between Us

"Like this?" I ask, surprised by the boldness in my own voice.

He steps forward, his hands warm on my hips. I can feel his hard cock pressing against me through the thin fabric of my panties, and anticipation coils low in my belly.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my underwear and sliding them down my legs.

Cool air hits my exposed skin, followed immediately by the warmth of his palm smoothing over my ass’s curves.

A finger trails between my legs, sliding through my wetness with ease.

"You're already so wet," he says with wonder in his voice.

I whimper at his touch, arching my back. "For you. Always for you."

I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance, and my breath catches in my throat. This is really happening. Grant Walker is about to be inside me, about to be my first.

He pushes forward slowly, just the tip breaching me, and I gasp at the stretch. It's so much more than I expected—more intense, more filling than the three fingers I've worked up to when touching myself late at night, thinking of this very man.

"Tell me if it hurts," he says, his voice tight with restraint. "I'll stop anytime you want."

"Thank you," I breathe, touched by his consideration even in this moment of intense desire. "Keep going. Please."

He moves with agonizing slowness, feeding his length into me inch by inch. There's pressure, a slight burning sensation, but the discomfort is overshadowed by the incredible feeling of fullness, of connection.

"You're doing so well," he praises, one hand stroking my back soothingly. "So perfect."

Finally, his hips meet my ass, and he's fully inside me. We both stay still for a moment, adjusting to this new intimacy, this irrevocable joining of our bodies.

"Are you okay?" Grant asks, his hands firm but gentle on my hips.

"More than okay," I assure him, shifting my hips. The movement sends a spark of pleasure through me, and I moan softly. "Move, Grant. Please."

He begins to thrust, shallow at first, then deeper as my body accommodates him. His hands tighten on my waist, holding me steady as he finds a rhythm that has us both gasping.

My breasts sway beneath me with each thrust, and I brace myself against the desk, fingers gripping the edge tightly. Sweat beads on my forehead from the exertion and the intensity of sensations flooding my system.

This is better than anything I ever fantasized about during lonely nights in my college dorm. The reality of Grant—his manly scent, his moans, the way his fingers dig into my flesh—exceeds every dream and every hope I've harbored.

Suddenly, he pulls out completely, and I whimper at the loss. A light smack lands on my ass, just sharp enough to sting pleasantly.

"Turn around," he commands, his voice gravelly with need. "I want to fuck you while I look you in the eyes."

The crude language from his usually controlled mouth makes heat pulse between my legs.

"Yes," I practically stutter, my brain foggy with desire. "I'd love that."

I turn to face him, leaning back against the desk. Without hesitation, Grant grasps me under my thighs and lifts me, displaying a strength that makes my stomach flutter. I wrap my legs around his waist, and with one swing from his hips, he's inside me again.

"Oh God," I moan, my arms looping around his neck for support. This angle is even deeper, even more intimate.

He begins thrusting again, his gaze locked on mine. His eyes are half-lidded and intense, his mouth slightly parted as he breathes heavily. Beads of sweat trickle down his temples and into his beard, making him look wild, untamed—nothing like the controlled firefighter or ex-military everyone else sees.

He has never looked more beautiful.

"You feel amazing," he groans, one hand tangling in my hair. "Better than I ever imagined."

The knowledge that he's imagined this too—that I've occupied his thoughts the way he's occupied mine—sends a fresh wave of arousal through me.

"You've thought about this?" I ask, gasping as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside me.

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