Igniting the Wild Sparks

by Alexander, Ren

  Giving up on his jeans for a moment since he’s not cooperating, I put my hands on his hips and rock against his dick. He closes his eyes and groans. I say, going in for the kill, “Are you telling me you don’t want inside of me, Finnigan Wilder?”

  His eyes fly open and with determination, he says, “No, I’m telling you to slow it down.”

  Lying down on him again, I clasp my hands with his and raise them above his head on the pillow. Angling my head, I whip my hair over to one side and his eyes fall to my neck before flying back up to my eyes. I ask, “Aren’t you going to yank my underwear to the side and give it to me like you did Sunday?” Leaning closer, I slowly lick his bottom lip and whisper, “I know you want to. You can’t even hide it.” To prove my point, I shift my hips up and down, teasing him, but end up sending myself into overdrive.

  He chuckles uneasily, but his eyes are blazing. “Becks, what’s going on with you?” I have no idea, but I have to have him.

  It’s not an option.

  Ignoring his question, I release his hands to sit back up and try again to jerk his jeans down, but he still doesn’t help by not moving his hips up. Using his own tactic from earlier this week, I plead, “Come on, baby. Surrender to me.”

  He shakes his head, yet his eyes are begging me to fuck him. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “Hurt myself? Oh, so you think you’re that cocky,” I taunt him. Only being able to move his jeans down a couple inches, I give up and yank the front of his underwear down over his dick, and he enthusiastically springs free. He hisses and I say, “I see that you have a lot of promise, Mr. Wilder, to fuck me hard.” He incredulously smiles, but his forehead wrinkles in uncertainty, most likely from how crazed I’m acting. It’s as if I’m being driven by something. I feel like the hoochie that Rod calls me.

  His tongue drags over his bottom lip. “You’ve never had a problem with what I’ve given you before.”

  I grip his shirt and his hands go to my waist. “I know and I want what’s mine, Sparks.”

  “I’m all yours, Becks. Only yours.” His gaze falls to my stomach as his thumb strokes my bruise. It’s like he’s obsessed with it. A sharp twinge of pain flashes through my side, making me unwillingly bite my lip and look away.

  His thumb freezes. “Are you okay?”

  Without looking at the concerned expression I know is gracing his face, I hurriedly nod. “I’m fine.” Reaching to my back, I unhook my bra, slip it off and fling it onto the floor. I mischievously smirk and finally look down at him. “Are you okay, Sparks?” I know he’s a breast man.

  He drops his gaze to my chest and his eyes widen. Oh, yeah. He’s trapped.

  I innocently ask, “Do you want me yet?”

  His fingers dig into my back as he stares at my boobs. “I always want you, but you need to settle down. You’re getting way too worked up.” He rips his eyes away from my chest and glances up to my face. “I know you’re in pain and I’ll only make it worse.”

  Raising an eyebrow, I tease, “You think you’re packing that much to cause me pain?”

  His jaw twitches and he narrows his eyes, probably not liking my joke suggesting he’s small. “I’m serious, Becks.”

  “I am, too. Aside from sex with you, I want it, Finn.”

  He looks afraid to ask as he swallows hard. “Want what?”

  “The reason. Why have you not been wearing a condom? You told me your big secret so this, I’m sure, you can confess.”

  He stares at my bruise and relaxes his grip on me slightly, but he can’t look me in the eyes. “There’s nothing to tell. I told you I can’t get enough of you. That’s all.”

  He can’t even pretend to sound convincing?

  I grab his raring dick and start to stroke him, but he grabs my hand, effortlessly stopping me. I’m sure he’d let me jerk him off if I wasn’t so hard-up myself for an orgasm. Holding onto him beneath his hand, but unable to move it, I ask, “Do you think you’re bulletproof? You can’t endlessly dodge bullets. One of them is bound to hit the target.”

  As he stares at my tits, he says, “No, I just want to feel you, Becks. Sometimes I don’t care about anything else.”

  Almost as if I’m testing Sparks, I let go of him and lean over to open his nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom, involuntarily wincing as I do. When I’m upright, he snatches the package out of my hand and hurriedly sits up to kiss me, grasping my neck and lowering me down with him. When his head hits the pillow, he whispers, “I said, no. We’re not having sex tonight.”

  Now even hotter for him and more desperate, I hurriedly reach down to my underwear, tug it to the side, move my hips up over him and roughly take him, chafing against his zipper.

  He heatedly huffs, “Fucking hell, Becks!”

  The pain is shooting through my right side, yet I can’t even restrain myself. It’s such an inherent need I must satisfy. I can’t explain it. Even with the pain, I wildly move on him, searching for my release and wanting to trigger his.

  “Damn it, stop,” he breathlessly pants. He futilely grabs onto my hips, trying to slow me that way. I shove at his hands, but he tightens his hold. I still don’t care. I know he wants me to keep going. He wants sex just as much as I do.

  I grimace from the physical pain and his rejection. “Why? Don’t you want me?”

  He fleetingly looks up at me, but doesn’t answer. I growl, “Quit being so gentle and fuck me like you mean it.” I fiercely clutch his shirt and ride him as hard as I can before he goes soft from being pissed.

  “Becks, no!” he snaps.

  Dread fills me, yet I keep going. “You act like I’m repulsive to you now.”

  “No! Damn it! You’re not listening to me! I told you fucking no!”

  I giggle, though I really shouldn’t. “Wow. You are bossy.”

  He snarls, “I think you are running the show at the moment.”

  I send my hand up his T-shirt and swirl my fingers over his muscles. “I thought you said you like me being assertive.”

  He cringes at his own words before growling, “Slow it the fuck down or get off of me.”

  “I am trying to get off,” I quip.

  Grinding his teeth, he clamps tightly on my hips, adeptly slowing me. Shit. He’s really pissed. “Fuck, I mean it!”

  I put my hands over his on my hips, and to hurry this along, I goad, “Come on. You can do better. Stop treating me like I’m in critical condition.”

  His glare darkens more. “I’m not really a willing participant.”

  “You’re not trying that hard, Finnigan. You usually have me screaming your name by now.” I bend forward to grate him with friction and he reluctantly groans. I squeeze my eyes shut as the pain stabs at me and I’m torn between needing an orgasm and actually getting myself off him.

  He petulantly replies, “I told you I didn’t want this. You’re in pain.”

  “Wilder, I’m fine and you can’t deny you wanted me.” I try his trick of angling my hips and try to go faster, but his hands still prevent me from going any faster than a steady speed.

  Sparks makes an effort to keep glaring at me; however, his eyes grudgingly blink closed. As I ride him, I can tell his body is warring with his mind to concede to me. Frustrated, his hands leave my hips to go into his hair and he testily pulls, wincing and biting his lip. Without his hands on my hips, I rise up and slam back down on him exponentially, feeling him becoming even more rigid, and despite the pain, I’m able to keep going.

  When I think I’m doing this by myself, he unexpectedly thrusts his hips up, ultimately giving in. Still pulling his own hair, he begrudgingly boosts his hips more rapidly as he grits his teeth until he exasperatedly roars, “Fuck!” in pleasure and fury at giving in to me, I think.

  Though it wasn’t an official dare and I’m sure he’s furious at himself for yielding to his weakness, I smile at my small victory over Finn Wilder once more.

  Roughly panting, his hands return to my hips, still trying to slow me down
as we move against each other. He breathlessly groans, “Oh, Becks. Shit.” Oh, no. This is working against my advantage. He’s going to come soon, leaving me with little time for me to have mine. I clutch his hips with my knees and push him in deeper, but the pain grips me instead. Desperate, I grab his right hand and put his fingers above our union.

  His eyes open in astonishment and I beseech, “I need it, Sparks. Please.” He surprisingly is cooperative and rubs me as I extort him for my own gain. We both close our eyes as I ride both his dick and fingers. Suddenly, he grunts and stops moving as his body forfeits. Damn it. I feel his hot finale streaming into me as he pauses, but I continue to glide against him. Finally, his fingers incite me and I drive onto him, grinding through the pleasure and pain.

  “Don’t stop. Please don’t,” I beg. I raise my hands and lift my hair, holding it on top of my head as the strong waves finally yank me under, easing the intense hunger I had for him and temporarily enabling the pain.

  As I fall from the high, the pain returns with reinforcements. I sharply gasp and drop down to the bed, curling into a ball next to Sparks. The pangs ease as I catch my breath.

  He turns to face me. His eyes are on the border of indignation and alarm. “Are you okay? What the hell is going on with you?”

  I raspingly stammer, “I-I just wanted you.”

  “Damn it! You’re not going to heal! You were out of control, Becks! I told you I didn’t want to!”

  I mutter against my pillow. “You wanted to. You were hard, Finn.”

  He snaps, “I can’t help it! You shouldn’t have done that!”

  “Why are you complaining? You got laid.” I really shouldn’t have said that. What a bitch.

  He irritably swipes his hand over his mouth, but that doesn’t keep him from barking, “Thanks! That’s all I fucking care about!” His eyes drift to my stomach. “Are you hurting?”

  “Only a little.” A lot, but it’s not as bad as it was. Right now, I’m more appalled by my actions than I am in pain.

  “Are you telling me the truth? Because you’re acting like you’re in some serious pain.”

  “It’s not that bad.” I carefully get up and mumble, “I’m going to go get a shower.” I need to recover alone so he doesn’t see the pain or the shame on my face.

  I go to my dresser and when I peek into the mirror, I see him adjust himself as he slowly sits up and guardedly watches me. “I can take one with you.”

  Fuck. He’s suspicious and a lot more forgiving than he should be. I completely used him. That wasn’t even making love. It was raw, straight-up fucking.

  “I’m good. I need to shave my legs.” I can’t believe that’s all I could come up with. How sexy, not that what I just did to him was.

  Shaking, I manage to grab the clothes I need and make a hasty exit.

  I shut the bathroom door as the tears flow. Holding onto my tender stomach, I lean against the door and slide down to the floor.

  I just had sex with Finn Wilder against his will. I hope he can forgive me.

  What the fuck is my problem?

  CHAPTER 13

  Finn doesn’t knock on the door to ask if I’m okay. He hates me. I totally violated him. He’s probably calling Ricky to have me arrested and thrown in jail. Maybe it’s worse. Maybe he called his mother and told her. How… I don’t even have a word for how I’d feel if Julie knew what I just did to her son.

  Holding my stomach to ease the pain and to somehow keep me from throwing up, I grab onto the door handle and slowly slide up against the door to stand, checking to make sure I locked the door. I turn the tub faucet on and the roaring sound of the water helps to distract me a little from the screaming in my head and my stomach. I avoid looking at my reflection over the sink. I can’t look at myself without getting sick or breaking the mirror.

  I take off my underwear, step into the tub and pull the teddy bear curtain closed before pulling the shower knob. Closing my eyes, I let the hot water spray onto my face, trying to cleanse myself of my gross behavior, but nothing will erase the horrifying movie replaying over and over in my mind.

  I’ll be forever trapped in here. The cops will have to smoke me out or worse, Ricky will have to break down the door with guns blazing and drag his BFF’s ex-girlfriend out in handcuffs, naked. At the trial, all of Finn’s friends will be in the courtroom shaking their heads at me and whispering. Julie will be crying and have to be escorted from the premises. Simone will call me a nasty whore who attacked her big brother. My dad will tell me that it’s a good thing Finn didn’t want to marry me and that he considers Finn his son, but I’m disowned. Val will say the orange color in my aura was hope that I’ll be locked away forever. Finn will show up to my trial every day, glaring at me from behind my lawyer, some random defense attorney since none of my coworkers would defend me for what I’ve done. My face and mortifying story will be all over the news, his coworkers offering their sympathies for him being involved with a sex monster. He’ll go on talk shows to say how it’s a relief to be rid of me and he really dodged a bullet by refusing to marry me. He’ll actually start playing the field and date one of his third basemen, most likely the slut. They’ll get engaged on The Wild Side, marry in his church, honeymoon in Niagara Falls and she’ll soon in rapid succession give birth to their four gorgeous, perfect kids: two boys and two girls, no doubt, all with magical, color-changing hair, chocolate brown eyes, and cocky, crooked smiles. They’ll live in a mansion, drive expensive sports cars, own a private jet, a baseball team, a soccer team, an entire television network, and buy a small state, like Vermont or a small sub-planet, like Pluto. They’ll live happily ever after in one of their many homes, laughing at me rotting away alone in Alcatraz, chained to a rocket carrying a poisonous gas that will take out San Francisco.

  Maybe I’ve seen The Rock too many times.

  The water pressure drops as the toilet flushes. The door was locked! It’s probably Ricky making a pit stop before he busts me. I can’t even look.

  The metal hooks grate loudly against the pole as the curtain slides open and someone steps behind me into the tub. If it is Ricky, I hope he at least brought a towel for me so I can hold onto a tiny shred of my dignity.

  The tub darkens as the curtain loudly slides closed, hopefully in time to shield my perverted body from the entire SWAT team.

  Strong hands clasp my upper arms and a naked torso rubs against my back. I so pray it’s not Ricky. All I need is another reason for Finn to hate me. Taking a shower with his best friend would indeed be one of those.

  “Hey. What’s going on with you?” Finn asks next to my ear, his deep voice sounding even richer reverberating off the fiberglass wall. The shower is so much nicer at his apartment, not that I’ll ever see it again. I’ll be taking mine in an open set-up at a prison with other women judging me; comparing tattoos and boobs. I suppose I can get inked before I go. Would it be in bad taste to ask Finn for a referral?

  I stare with rising panic at my white shampoo bottle. “How’d you get in here?”

  He proudly states over my head, “I can pick a lock.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Are you also best friends with a cat burglar?”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m sure Ricky would love to hear about that one.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  My emotions finally get the best of me and I lose it. “I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!” A sob escapes my throat and I cover my mouth so that I don’t hurl on the wall to top off my great day.

  “Forgive you? For?”

  “You didn’t want it!” I anxiously rub my hands over my face, and shudder. “Taking advantage of you, and even without protection!” I cry into my black-nailed hands as the shower water beats down on my forearms.

  Squeezing my upper arms, Sparks leans into me. “I didn’t want you to hurt more. Of course I wanted you. I always do, baby.”

  “Yeah, but I…I assaulted you. I violated you.” I can’t even say the r-word because I
will certainly puke.

  He arbitrarily chuckles and I raise my head at the sound. “Um, no. You might be strong emotionally and can take a softball to the stomach, but I’m a hell of a lot stronger than you physically. You’re a lightweight, Becks. If I truly didn’t want to have sex with you, I wouldn’t have. I wanted you and I couldn’t stop myself.” He clears his throat and lowly imparts, “You’re the death of me. I told you that.”

  “You were mad and said you weren’t ‘a willing participant.’”

  “I was pissed off because you weren’t taking it slow and I didn’t want to contribute any more to your pain. Plus, you weren’t listening to a damn thing I said, as usual. Now you’re probably hurting.”

  I grumble to the shower wall, “Only a little.”

  Reaching around to my stomach, Sparks’ fingers smoothly glide over the bruise that’s below my ribcage to my belly button. I tense from the movement. He must notice because his fingers stiffen and he says, “I don’t want you practicing this weekend.”

  “I’m f—”

  “Don’t even say that fucking f-word, Becks.” Since he can’t see my face, I briefly smile at his incongruity. “You’re not. You won’t take it easy and I’m responsible for that. I still can feel a knot on your stomach. No practice.” At least he can’t feel the knot in my stomach.

  “Can I at least watch?”

  “No because you’ll sit there and bitch about it every time I walk by. I’ll pass. I don’t need the distraction.”

  “But an okay distraction would be me walking around in just my bra and underwear, right?”

  “Damn it. Don’t make this difficult. I know how you’d be because you’ve been that way at practice already.”

  “Well, shit, coach. Am I permanently being benched? I’m such a valuable left fielder,” I acerbically gripe, fully aware I sound like a brat.

  “Keep it up with your mouth and you will be.” As I said.

  I huff, “You’re mean.” His fingers drift across my bruise, which slightly throbs and yet, his touch is soothing at the same time.