Page 82 of Sparks Fly

“I’ve been wet for weeks,” I gasped, my voice already breaking. “Every time you touched me. Every time you kissed me and stopped.”

Sawyer groaned, dropping her head to kiss the inside of my thigh again. “I’m not stopping now.”

Her fingers slid up again, gentle and teasing, stroking slow circles around my clit. She didn’t rush. Didn’t let me look away.

Oh god, it feel too fucking good.

I writhed beneath her, hips rolling toward her hand. “Please.”

“What do you need?” she asked, her voice barely above a growl.

“You,” I said, breathless. “Inside. Please, fuck me baby—please.”

Sawyer moaned. “God you sound so good when you bed, baby.”

She pressed in slowly, letting me feel it, inch by inch, her fingers sliding inside me as a broken sound tore from my throat. My body jolted, back arching as the stretch hit—sharp, perfect, overwhelming.

“God—baby—fuck,” I cried, hoarse, my head tipping back as my eyes fluttered shut.

She didn’t stop.

She put her mouth back on me, sucking my clit deep and consuming, pulling a broken sound from my throat as her hand began to move—slow at first, curling her fingers just right, like she was learning me in real time and getting it right anyway.

“God… you taste so good,” Sawyer whispered.

The words alone made my hips jerk.

She kissed her way back up my body, slow and deliberate, her fingers never stopping, still working inside me as she moved—over my stomach, my ribs—until she was above me again.

“Look at me.”

It took effort, but I forced my eyes open.

Found her right there—dark hair wild, lips swollen from kissing me, her gaze locked on mine like she wasn’t letting me go anywhere.

“Good girl,” she said softly, her rhythm picking up. “You feel so good around my fingers.”

The praise wrecked me. I gasped, hips meeting every thrust, chasing her without thinking. “Don’t stop. Don’t—oh my God—”

Sawyer kissed me through it, her mouth moving over mine, my jaw, down my neck, as the tension built fast—too fast—my whole body tightening around her hand.

“Stay with me,” she murmured, her voice low, steady. “Don’t chase it. Just feel.”

I tried. God, I tried. But my body didn’t care about patience. The pressure was already there, building fast, my hips lifting instinctively, chasing her hand.

“Easy,” Sawyer said softly, and then… she slowed.

Not completely, just enough. Her fingers easing back, her thumb still there but not quite where I needed it, keeping me right on the edge, my breath catching hard in my throat.

“Baby, please—please” My hips lifted trying to get the friction back.

“No,” she murmured when I tried to follow it. “Not yet.”

“Please—” I gasped, my hands tightening in her hair, trying to pull her back where I needed her.

She didn’t let me. She kissed me instead—slow, grounding—while her hand kept moving in that same slow, deliberate rhythm, holding me there, stretched tight and aching.

“Feel it,” she whispered against my mouth. “Stay right here with me.”