Spark: A Bad Boy Romance

by Michelle Amy

  Jason crumpled to the ground with a pitiful moan and stayed there. McCoy straightened his jacket and turned back to me, offering me his hand as he had before. I stood with him and stepped over Jason as Denise dropped to her knees beside him. She shot me a dirty look as we made our way to the fence that went along the outside of the patio. McCoy lifted me up and placed me on the other side of the fence with little effort. Then he stepped over it with his long legs, put a hand on my lower back, and urged me forwards.

  When we had gone about two blocks down the street I stopped walking and turned back to him. He was standing incredibly close to me. I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. I was eye level with one of the buttons at the neck of his shirt. I had to force myself not to look at the bit of chest that was exposed.

  “Why did you do that for me?” I asked.

  “I didn’t realize it was for you,” his eyes were mischievous and looked black in the poor light of the street lamp above. “You’re kind of self centered, you know.”

  I wanted him to touch me again. I wanted to feel that warm electric shock go through my body as he put his hands on my hip and his calloused palm grazed my bare skin at the hem of my shirt. I wanted his lips on my neck. I wanted his lips everywhere. “Were you serious before?” I whispered. When his eyebrows drew together in confusion I took a deep breath and clarified for him. “What I mean is… were you serious when you said you expected a woman to beg, if she wanted you?”

  “Why do you ask?” He stayed where he was as a car drove by. His face was lit for a moment by the passing headlights and I saw the eagerness in his face. He was playing a game with me. He reached out with one hand and hooked his finger in one of the belt loops on my jeans. He tugged me closer to him. His forefinger held me in place by the thin denim loop while his thumb played with the waistband and eventually slipped a couple inches down my pants. He caught my thong and playfully inched it up over the top of my jeans just slightly. “How did I know you were a pink kind of girl?”

  I wished I was wearing a matching black lace set. I wished I was wearing something more dangerous. I wasn’t. I was wearing pink lace panties and a purple bra. The bra had a diamond heart between my breasts. There was nothing dangerous about it at all.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I breathed.

  He let go of my belt loop and his hand slid half way up my shirt to rest on my waist. “What do you think?” He lowered his head and his lips grazed my neck again. I quivered under his touch and closed my eyes as he continued to graze my skin with his soft lips. He made his way up to my earlobe which he pinched between his teeth. His hand wandered further up my shirt and traced a line just below the underwire of my bra. “Do you think I would make you beg?”

  “Yes.”

  I felt him smile against my neck. “And how do you feel about that?” He pulled away so that his face was just inches above mine. He stared down at me and I became lost in him, letting his hand move to the top of my bra where he glided his fingers over my breasts. The sensation created a stirring below my belly that I had never felt before. I didn’t even care that we were standing in plain sight on the sidewalk. In fact, I had nearly forgotten.

  “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” I meant it.

  “Whatever I want?”

  I nodded. I could hardly stand being so close to him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and press myself up tight against him. I wanted to feel his bare skin on mine. I wanted him to lay me down and do whatever the hell it was he liked to do.

  He made a soft sound in the back of his throat as he feigned thoughtfulness. “What if I want to hurt you?”

  I swallowed and he rested his other hand at the base of my throat. “You don’t want to,” I said, my voice barely audible in my own ears.

  The hand on my throat went lower, falling to the front of my jeans. He pushed me backwards a few steps, using his hands to guide me up against the window of a used book store. When my back hit the glass I realized he already had the button of my jeans open. He pulled the zipper down and never broke my stare.

  I heard people walk by. Someone was wearing heels and they clicked by, the sound accompanied by happy chatting voices. McCoy’s size blocked me from view and I didn’t look away from him as he braced himself with one hand against the window above my head. The hand that still played with the front of my jeans came up my side until his finger rested under my chin. He tilted my face upwards and bent his face down to meet mine.

  When his lips first touched mine it was a delicate thing. They touched and then he pulled away, then came back with another gentle kiss that made me stop breathing. He teased me like that for a while, giving me uncommitted kisses that made me desperate for more. His finger under my chin demanded that I stay where I was. I didn’t have any intentions of disobeying. Finally he lowered it, trusting me to stay where I was so he could continue his agonizing torture of soft kisses.

  When his hand brushed me just above my panties I moaned. I couldn’t help it. He smiled and pressed his hand down the front of my jeans but on top of my panties. He began to rub me in slow circles that made it nearly impossible to stay on my feet. But I stayed.

  The hand above my head left the wall and he straightened above me. The other hand pulled out of my jeans and snapped the top of my thong playfully. I remained breathless in front of him, staring up with eyes that I knew hid none of my desire.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, you’re right.” His voice hitched in his throat. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. “But there are a lot of things I do want.” He kissed me again.

  “What kind of things?” I tried to ignore the wetness in my underwear.

  He lowered himself again and braced himself with one hand against the wall. “I want to taste you. I want to lay you down and fuck you until you can’t see straight. I want to hear my name on your lips. I want you to beg for it. I want you to cum.” His hand wandered down the inside of my panties and he felt how wet I was. “It would seem that perhaps, you want the same things.” He slipped a finger inside me.

  My eyes closed and I rested my head against the window. His lips found mine again as he explored me with a gentle finger that slid in and out of me.

  “Do you want me, too?” He asked.

  I nodded.

  “I can’t hear you.”

  “Yes,” I managed, “I want you.”

  “And what do you want me to do to you?”

  “Everything.”

  “Not a good enough answer,” he taunted.

  What he was doing with his hands made it exceedingly difficult to answer him. “Please,” I whispered, “please, do whatever you want to me. Wherever you want. I don’t care. I need you. Please.”

  He finally kissed me like he meant it. His lips pressed themselves against mine with a burning urgency. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I could taste his beer. I wrapped my hands around the back of his neck and used his height to hold myself up as he demanded I widen my legs. Another finger slid inside me. The rhythm of his hands was ecstasy. I was out of breath as he brought me to the edge of an orgasm- something Jason had rarely given me.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t handle any more he stopped and pulled away from me with an intoxicating smile. “You want me to lay you out right here?” He asked. “Or can we take this somewhere a little more private?”

  “Private is good,” I gasped, fumbling to do up the top of my jeans. “I live just a few blocks up that way.”

  “I didn’t tell you to do those up,” he scolded. His tone and expression was playful, but I knew he meant it. My hands fell from my jeans and I left the button undone. He grabbed my hand and we crossed the street. Then we cut up through the residential areas at a brisk pace. I didn’t want to wait any longer than I had to, and by his long strides I guessed he was feeling the same way.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  McCoy took the steps up to my front porch two at a time and turned back to me and chuckled as I held up my
jeans with every step. I gave him a scowl that fell flat when I couldn’t help but grin back at him. I unlocked the door and we rolled in together. His hip bumped the small table that was up against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. I dropped my keys into the bowl on it as he cursed under his breath and rubbed his hip. I called him a baby. He pushed me against the wall and held me there.

  He then proceeded to torture me by pinning my wrists above my head. His knee wedged in between my legs and rested against the wall, forcing me to bend at the knees and give him all the control in the situation. I didn’t mind being powerless. It was, in it’s own strange way, somewhat empowering. His leg between mine and his fingers around my wrists made me feel small but not weak. Something about him made me feel at ease, despite his sour attitude and his history. For the briefest moment the image of him standing above a bloodied body with a baseball bat in his hand flickered in my mind.

  It was chased away when he kissed me again. He let go of my wrists and his hands held my lower back, pulling my hips close to him. His hands wandered up my back and undid my bra. His fingers gently massaged my back where the bra had sat. Somehow he knew all the right things to do; he knew the power of his touch and how intoxicating he was. He leveraged it like an expert. It dawned on me that this was his forte. He had done this countless of times. I had done this with one other person. One. And we switched back and forth between three positions and we only ever had sex in a bed. I nearly let McCoy fuck me senseless on the sidewalk. I was in over my head with him, but I didn’t dare tell him to stop.

  His fingers worked my shirt up over my head. My bra was still in place despite it being undone. A flutter of nervous grew in my belly as he reached out to pull my bra off. My heart pounded, my fingertips tingled, and my mouth was suddenly dry. I wondered if I was ready for this- whatever this was about to be. Was I willing to give this stranger everything?

  He paused with his hands cupping my breasts under my bra. He lowered his head and grazed the tops of my breasts with his lips. I could smell his hair. I buried my fingers in it and pulled his head up to give him an urgent and desperate kiss. I was as equally full of desire as I was fear. He didn’t strike me as the kind of man who would be willing to wait around if I got cold feet. I didn’t expect him to. I knew what this was. It was a hookup, plain and simple. There was nothing wrong with that. We both got what we wanted. What we needed. But if I hesitated he could see it as a waste of time.

  When we pulled apart his fingers gently lifted the straps of my bra from my shoulders. I watched his eyes as he let the bra fall down my arms. It landed across his thigh of the leg that still rested between mine. His eyes never left my breasts. He cupped them in both hands and ran his thumbs lightly over my nipples. It was tantalizing. I shivered and he lowered his hands down. Down to the waist of my jeans. He was pushing me. He was asking for more. I was incapable of telling him to slow down.

  I let him shimmy my jeans down my thighs. He had to move his leg and my bra fell to the floor between us. Soon I stood before him in nothing but my pink lace thong. He soaked in the sight of me, his eyes following the length of my legs and covering my stomach and breasts. Soon his eyes stared into mine and I stared back. I was helpless against him.

  “I didn’t expect this,” he whispered. His voice was low and it made my knees feel like pudding.

  “Expect what?”

  The corner of his mouth curled up. This time it was a genuine smile that compelled me to smile back at him. He rubbed the back of his neck and I realized he was being bashful. It surprised me. Then I found that I loved it.

  “Expect what?” I asked again, my voice coloured with my own smile.

  He shrugged his shoulders in a boyish way and gestured at me. “You. Look at you.”He came to me again and traced his fingertips all over me. He started at my shoulders and wandered down my chest where he played with my breasts again, before tracing down my stomach and finding the straps of my thong on my hips. He hooked his thumbs in them and held me against him. I was forced to look up at him. “You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he said. Then he kissed me again. It was firm and it was rough and I was forced to hold on to him to balance myself.

  He liked the control I gave him. I was going to be true to my word: he could do whatever he wanted. He spun me around so that my back was facing the stairs. Then he wrapped one arm behind my back and lowered me down with impressive ease. He placed me on the fifth step up. He put one knee on the third step. I sat looking down at him as he pulled my underwear down my legs. He left them hooked around one of my ankles as he began to kiss the inside of my thigh.

  He worked his way upwards, taking his time. I was amazed by his restraint as he passed between my legs and rained kisses on the other thigh. I watched him all the while. I couldn’t look away from him. Every move he made only made me want him more. Every kiss, every nibble, every glance he cast my way, made me feel like I was going to melt into a puddle of sheer pleasure on the stairs.

  Finally he settled between my legs and his tongue began to taste me. This was all new territory for me. Jason had never done this- had he tried, I probably would have stopped him. I didn’t trust him. Yet, somehow, I was comfortable with letting McCoy do what he wanted. He worked with a confident ease as his tongue licked me slowly, up and down, up and down, until I couldn’t stand it anymore and my head fell back and my eyes closed and a breathless moan escaped my lips. This only encouraged him to work harder. He slipped a finger in me and his tongue never stopped it’s now particularly exquisite routine.

  I came within seconds.

  I remained where I was, breathlessly staring up at my ceiling on the second story above, as he crawled on top of me, bracing himself with his hands on either side of the stair my head rested upon. He lowered himself down so that he was practically in a mid push up above me. He kissed me. I had never thought I would let a man kiss me after he… you know. But I kissed him back and found that I was even more turned on. I needed him. I wouldn’t be able to wait much longer. So I told him.

  “How long are you going to do this to me for? I can’t… I can’t-”

  “Yes you can,” he purred.

  I closed my eyes and tried to catch my breath beneath him. The night hadn’t even started and my body felt like jello. He knew what he was doing to me. The smirk on his perfect lips told me he loved how he was making me feel.

  I propped myself up on my elbows. He stayed where he was, his face just an inch away from mine. I stretched myself up and kissed his neck. Two could play this game. At least, I could try to play this game. I kissed the part of his collarbone that peaked through the open buttons of his shirt. I slipped my hands up his shirt and he pulled it off over his head and cast it down to the floor below us.

  His body was tanned and firm. His arms were thick and the veins and muscles were prominent as he held himself above me. He was lean and I was delighted to see the cut of his hips, which created a perfect arrow that disappeared below the waist of his jeans. A trail of dark hair lead from above his belt and up, around his belly button, and up further to his chest. I ran my hand over his chest, feeling the taut muscle beneath my palm.

  I played with his belt buckle. He made my task harder by gliding his fingers down my stomach. When he touched me I was shocked by how sensitive I was. He liked it and teased me as I desperately worked to undo his belt. When it finally came undone I was breathless again. I moved on to undo his jeans, struggling with shaking fingers. When I succeeded he pulled my hands away and pinned me down on the stairs.

  “What do you want me to do next?” He asked.

  I didn’t care. Anything. Everything.

  He raised his chin as I went to kiss him again. “Answer me,” he said. I knew this wasn’t a game. I needed to answer.

  “I want you to relax,” I said, “and let me take care of you.”

  I tried to kiss him again but he denied me. He held me in place with a calm stare that I couldn’t read. I didn’t know if I had said something wron
g. I hooked a leg around his and tried to urge him to come closer. “Please?” I asked. “Just a little bit. Then I’m yours. Whatever you want- need. You can have it. Please?”

  He released his grip on me but his eyes told me not to move. His jeans came off. It all came off. He lowered himself back down over me and I could feel the tip of him resting between my legs.

  “Stop,” I said, putting a hand on his chest.

  He looked concerned when he lifted off of me. “Are you alright?”

  I nodded. “Yes, but, you can’t do that. I want to return the favor but I won’t- I can’t-” I couldn’t find the right words to tell him that if he rested his manhood on me like that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from raising my hips to his and begging him to put it inside me. I tried to shimmy out from under him.

  “Veronica,” his hand rested on my stomach as if to hold me in place, but he was gentle. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I searched his eyes. They were dark and they were staring at me so intently. I couldn’t look away. I thought of Carly. She didn’t trust him. She thought he was bad news. But I saw the part of him that was sad. I saw the part that was aching for my touch the same way I ached for him. “I’m sure,” I answered.

  His mouth closed over mine. His hand cupped the back of my neck and his tongue explored the inside of my mouth. The remnants of his beer were still there, and he tasted like smoke and mint. His other hand slid under my back and forced me to arch it so that my hips were off the ground.

  Then he pressed himself into me. He was slow. He was gentle. It still took my breath away. I moaned into our kiss and I felt him let go of a tension he had held in his muscles. He moved within me in such a way that I wanted to drag my nails down his back. I wanted to bite his lip. I wanted to whisper his name.