Fight the Spark: Sons of Sinners Part 1 (A Rock Star Romance)

by Grace James

  I whimpered as he glided the tip of one finger over me, slicking it down with my juices before skimming upwards and rubbing my clit gently, teasingly.

  “Shit, you’re so wet for me,” he murmured huskily.

  I whimpered again and bucked against his hand, but he didn’t increase the pressure, just kept torturing me, running his finger over me, keeping it lubricated with my moisture, then playing with my throbbing clit.

  I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Blake, stop – I can’t – I need you…” I gasped into his mouth.

  He pulled away, smirking down at me as his big hand circled his thick member. He grabbed a condom from the night stand and rolled it down his length. “Tell me what you need, Princess,” he demanded as he positioned his cock between my swollen lips.

  For a moment I was silent. I had never asked for it before, not like this anyway, and I had no idea how to do it. But the way he was looking at me, cocky and arrogant but like I was driving him insane with need, made me want to give him whatever he demanded.

  I held his gaze and slowly liked my lips. “I need your cock inside me –” Before I could finish, he surged forwards, slamming into me all the way to the hilt in one fluid stroke. If I wasn’t so turned on, so drenched, it probably would have been agony.

  As it was, I was more than ready for him. I stretched around him with only a tiny amount of pain, adding depth to my pleasure.

  We groaned together as he filled me completely.

  My eyelids fluttered shut.

  “Look at me,” he ordered, his voice rough.

  When my eyes met his, he slowly withdrew his long shaft, until just the tip was still inside, then slammed roughly back into me. Then again and again, looking me in the eye the whole time.

  I was on the edge; my muscles were already fluttering every time he thrust into me, I felt him glide across the core of my need, bringing me higher and higher, close but never quite reaching my peak. I needed more. I started to whimper and buck, trying to entice him to speed up.

  “Tell me what you need,” he said again.

  “Harder!” I moaned. “Faster!”

  He stopped thrusting. “Ask nicely, baby.” His voice was strained but he was still holding on to his control – more than anything, I wanted to break it. I needed to see him lose it.

  I licked my lips and pouted, knowing how to drive him wild. “Please, Blake, pretty please, fuck me hard and fast.”

  With an animalistic growl, he pushed himself up and away from me and I almost wept in frustration – but he didn’t go far, he just settled back on his haunches, kneeling up with his legs slightly apart. As he moved, he grasped my lower back and pulled me with him, keeping his cock buried inside of me so that my ass wound up resting on his iron hard thighs, but my shoulders and head remained on the bed.

  He looked down at me and slid his hands up and around my body a little way, shaping my waist almost tenderly, before sinking his fingers into the flesh above my hips and pulling me towards him while simultaneously thrusting into me.

  Hard.

  Fast.

  Pounding me mercilessly.

  His face was all angles and fury, his jaw was clenched and he almost looked frenzied. His eyes were wild. His fingers were digging into my hips almost painfully. I fisted my hands in the sheets and stared into his eyes, powerless to do anything else.

  He was pushing me to my limit, bottoming out inside of me again and again, never relenting, fucking me senseless, until all I could feel was his huge cock slamming into me, stretching me in all directions. The extreme feeling of fullness bordered on pain but at the same time my pleasure spiraled higher, so that both sensations were interchangeable, linked, fused and I couldn’t tell one from the other – I just knew that I had never felt such intensity before.

  I screamed as he dominated me completely. “Oh! Oh! OH! – oh God oh God oh God!”

  “Fuuuuck, baby! Oh – SHIT!”

  My orgasm crashed over me mercilessly as I clenched around him like a vice. As I reached my peak, I felt his body tense and his hands squeeze me even harder. His cock started to pulse violently inside me, contracting repeatedly, prolonging my own orgasm.

  He threw his head back and roared; his muscles going solid, like they were carved from marble; his entire upper body was frozen while he ground his pelvis into mine, not moving in and out now, just pushing, forcing himself as far inside me as he could go and grinding.

  As his orgasm faded, his body gradually started to relax and he freed my hips, hung his head and flopped forwards, his hands coming to rest on the bed either side of my head. He kissed me sloppily, still breathing heavily, then rested his forehead on mine. I felt him recede slightly inside of me but he didn’t withdraw.

  “You okay?” he panted.

  I smiled lazily. “Oh yeah, I’m more than okay.”

  “I didn’t hurt you?”

  “Only in a good way.” A look of slight alarm darkened his eyes, so I continued playfully, “Pretty please, Blake, hurt me again...and again...and again...”

  He chuckled. “Are you trying to get me hard again?”

  “Is it working?”

  He looked slightly uncomfortable. “Yeah...but I’m still packin’, if you know what I mean.” He eased out of me and stumbled into the bathroom.

  But when he came back, he did do it again…and again…

  90

  The next time I awoke was to the faint sound of acoustic guitar strings being plucked and tuned. I sighed and reached out, searching for the feel of Blake’s hard body in the bed next to me. He wasn’t there but the sheets still felt warm. I sighed contentedly and stretched, finally registering the pick of strings properly and realizing that he was outside, playing his guitar. I smiled lazily and snuggled back into the bed, listening.

  I heard him start to strum an unfamiliar tune. It was slow and kind of melancholy.

  Wanting to hear him better, I got out of bed and walked towards to the door, grabbing his huge Metallica t-shirt from the recliner as I passed. I pulled the shirt over my head as I reached the door, which he’d left slightly ajar. I pushed it open fully and leant on the doorframe to listen. He was sitting on the steps wearing only his sweats, with his bare back to me. His dark tattoos stood out in stark relief, shifting when his muscles rippled as he played. He was humming along quietly to the tune, clearly conscious of disturbing me.

  “Is this the part where you serenade me?” I asked.

  The tune stumbled to a halt as he jumped at the sound of my voice. He turned to me smiling. “Knew you only loved me for my voice.”

  “I love you for more than your voice.”

  He stood up, carrying the guitar by the neck, and crossed the porch to me. “Here was me wondering if it was just the wine talking.”

  I pushed up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Nope.”

  “Well thank fuck for that.” He touched his forehead to mine and cupped my cheek with his free hand.

  I smiled. “So I was serious about that serenade.”

  “You were, huh?”

  “What’s the point of sleeping with a singer if you don’t at least get a private show?” I teased.

  His eyes twinkled mischievously. “You already got a private show.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Shut up and sing to me.”

  “You know that’s an oxymoron, right?”

  I raised my eyebrows, grinning. “An ‘oxymoron’? Really?”

  “Yeah, it means –”

  “I know what it means.”

  “Do you?”

  “Not even a little bit,” I admitted and he laughed. “So tell me.”

  “It’s when you put contradictory words together,” he said smugly.

  “You’re a show off.”

  He shrugged and grinned. “I like words.”

  I narrowed my eyes mischievously. “Yeah, for someone who says fuck so much you have a ridiculously huge –”

  “Cock?”

  I snorted a laugh and smacked
his chest. “I was going to say a huge vocabulary!”

  He chuckled and leant in to kiss me again.

  “What song were you just playing?” I asked when he pulled back.

  “It doesn’t really have a title. I never really planned to do anything with it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I wrote it a few months back,” he said, like that explained everything.

  “And you don’t like it now?” I probed.

  “Yeah…” He considered for a second and then shook his head. “I don’t know…”

  “Will you sing it for me?”

  He searched my eyes for a moment. “Yeah, okay.” He took my hand and led me back into the cabin and over to the bed. He sat on the edge, guitar in his lap as I reclined against the pillows.

  He dragged his thumb slowly over the strings and took a deep breath before he started to sing. Before he even finished the first verse, I knew the song was about me.

  You spill my past onto the floor

  Bust bolts on doors you never knew

  Were locked to everyone but you

  Wander twisted paths inside my head

  Like you don’t see my shroud of sins

  Your touch is like the lash

  Purest pain I ever felt

  Got me crawling out my own skin

  Know that’s all you’ll ever be

  The end and the death of me

  Got a chokehold on reality

  Kicking at a fantasy of you

  Anyone but him I’d have my way

  Be up and on you ‘til daylight bleeds

  Through the cracks scored in my soul

  Your touch is like the lash

  Purest pain I ever felt

  Got me crawling out my own skin

  Know that’s all you’ll ever be

  The end and the death of me

  My scars weep to see your tears

  Takes all I have not to carve a path

  Through him to you

  But our blood’s the same

  He’s in my veins

  Bonds of brotherhood

  Galvanized in the pit

  Surviving the poison

  Dealt by our fathers’ hands

  That’s all you’ll ever be

  The end and the death of me

  He didn’t look at me while he sang but as the last chord faded to nothing his eyes met mine. My mouth was hanging open, I must have looked pretty ridiculous because his trademark smirk surfaced as he propped his guitar at the foot of the bed and crawled up to sit alongside me.

  It took me completely by surprise, but my breath hitched and my eyes misted a little.

  Blake’s face was suddenly full of concern. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s just – it was really sad and beautiful. I never thought…I mean I knew you felt – but not –” I stopped, unsure how to put my thoughts into words.

  “Hey, hey.” He put his arm around me and pulled me to him, hugging me; I rested my head on his chest and he kissed the top of my head. “Talk to me, Princess.”

  I bit my lip a moment, thinking. “I didn’t realize how bad you felt about…wanting me while I was with Connor.”

  “Well it wasn’t gonna make me feel good was it?” His tone was soft; the words weren’t delivered with the sarcasm the bare bones would suggest.

  “I guess not…and now? Do you still feel bad?”

  He inhaled deeply before he answered. “Yes and no. Yes ‘cause it’s never cool to hook up with one of your boys’ exes, ever, under any circumstances…and no ‘cause I just want you too damn much to give a fuck about what’s right and wrong.”

  I tipped my head up and kissed the underside of his jaw, rubbing the flat of my hand over his chiseled abdomen and letting out a little sigh. “It doesn’t feel wrong at all,” I murmured.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “I love your lyrics by the way…”

  “Mmm.” He pressed his nose to the top of my head, breathing me in.

  “So…you wanted to be ‘up and on’ me, huh?” I teased softly.

  He chuckled. “You know it.”

  I lightly trailed my nails over his stomach in a figure eight, making his muscles jump. “And now?” I breathed.

  He let out a low groan and flipped me onto my back, his left arm still around the back of my neck, his right hand flat against the bed next to my shoulder as he smoldered down at me.

  God, those eyes.

  I wondered if he had any idea how gorgeous they were.

  He trailed the tip of his nose down my neck from my ear to my collar bone, then back up again. “Thought you’d need a little break,” he whispered into the shell of my ear. “I’ve been up and on you all night.”

  My hands threaded their way through his hair, luxuriating in the silky softness of the dark strands. “I’ve had all the break I need,” I whispered back, breaking into a lazy smile at the sight of the desire playing over his face as his eyes trailed down to my lips – and then lower…

  “Goddamn you look good in my shirt,” he muttered, skimming his calloused finger tips over my throat and down my chest, between my breasts.

  “Glad you think so ‘cause I didn’t really have a lot of choice. Some guy ripped my top.” I added mischievously.

  “Huh, he sounds like a dick.” He trailed his hand upwards again to lightly circle my throat, watching his big hand on my body like he was hypnotized.

  “Oh, he is.” I watched his mouth quirk into a little smile at my words. “But he’s my dick.”

  His eyes met mine again. “Really? That mean your pussy only purrs for him, Princess?”

  I laughed at his phrasing but I knew what he was really asking. I tugged at his hair, bringing his mouth down to mine. “Yes. Only him,” I whispered against his lips.

  I spent the next couple of hours proving it to him.

  91

  It was late morning when our rumbling stomachs forced us to emerge from the bed. I retrieved Blake’s tee from the floor where he’d thrown it and put it back on again. He stepped back into his sweats. Then he cooked bacon and eggs while I made coffee. We touched and kissed the whole time, like we couldn’t bear any physical distance between us.

  We had barely started to eat our meal when he pulled me onto his lap. I giggled as his arms locked around my waist. “You’re not going to be able to eat with me in the way.”

  “You’re not in the way,” he nuzzled my neck. “You’re where you should always be.”

  “Attached to your crotch?” I wiggled on his lap for emphasis.

  He snorted. “I was gonna be romantic and say ‘in my arms’, but I like your idea better.”

  “Who knew you could be romantic?” I teased.

  He pulled his head back and raised one eyebrow, his mouth taking on a cocky tilt. “Hey, log cabin, incredible views, acoustic serenades, cooking you dinner and breakfast – I’m the motherfucking King of Romance over here.”

  “And you’re so modest.”

  “Damn straight. If I weren’t being modest, I would’ve mentioned the multiple orgasms.”

  I laughed. “Yours or mine?”

  He grinned. “Yours Princess.” His eyes took on a heated glint. “Most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Always knew you’d look incredible when you came, just never realized how incredible. Making you come is my new favorite thing.”

  I bit my lip shyly, my cheeks flushing.

  He smirked at my reaction. “You can beg me to fuck you, but the second we get out of bed, you go back to being all innocent.” He clutched me tighter and rolled his hips under me. I felt the bulge in his pants grind against my thigh. “Drives me fucking insane,” he murmured.

  I loved the effect that I had on him. It made me feel sexy, powerful, confident. I grinned at him and teased, “You shouldn’t talk about sex at the dinner table, it’s rude.”

  “Know what’s more rude?” His smirk widened. “Bending you over the dinner table.”

  I slapped his chest in mock out
rage. “Hey! Where’s my King of Romance gone?!”

  “He’s gone hard.”

  I burst out laughing and smacked his chest again.

  “Hey! I can’t help it. Wanted in you for too long.”

  “Okay,” I giggled. “Now I think we’ve been hanging out together for too long, ‘cause even that’s starting to sound romantic to me.”

  He laughed with me as I scooped some of his eggs onto his fork and offered them to him. He leant forwards, taking the food off of the fork with perfect lips.

  I watched him chew dreamily.

  God, I was in trouble.

  As he swallowed the eggs down, some of the playfulness fell from his face. “Want to ask you something,” he said seriously.

  “What’s that?” I suddenly felt a trickle of anxiety.

  He took a deep breath in and held it for a second. “What if you’d met me first?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you hadn’t already met my cousin –” I noticed he didn’t mention Connor by name “– and you came to that party at my place, and met me first, would things have been different?”

  I didn’t answer right away, considering his question thoughtfully. “I…don’t think so,” I said honestly. He cleared his throat and nodded, dropping his eyes to the table. I knew I hadn’t given him the answer that he wanted, but I didn’t want to lie to him. “Are you going to let me explain?” I asked.

  “What’s there to explain?”

  I put my hand on his cheek and urged him to look at me again. “Blake Maxwell, you’re sulking like a little boy,” I teased. I knew he was fighting it, but I saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Would you still have been obnoxious? Would you have used a dirty pick up line on me, like all the ones I’ve heard you use on random girls since then?”

  He winced but held my gaze. “Probably,” he admitted quietly. I had to respect his honesty, even if it did sting a little.

  “Then no, things probably wouldn’t have been different back then.” He nodded again, but this time it was more accepting. “Things are different now because I know you. I know who you are underneath all the cocky swagger. I love who you are underneath it all, but there’s no way you would’ve let me see that back then.” I planted a soft kiss on his mouth. He tightened his arms around me and kissed me back. “I did think you were really hot though,” I murmured against his lips.