Page 62 of Sparks Fly

She had left it for me.

Warmth spread through my chest as turned off the lights and set the alarm and headed to the bedroom.

I was still buzzing, like my body hadn’t realized she was gone. I crawled beneath the covers and stared at the ceiling, my pulse loud in my ears.

I was soaked.

All it took was thinking about Sawyer’s mouth. Her hands. The way she had said baby like it wasn’t a line, like it had just slipped out of her, natural and unguarded.

My fingers moved before I could overthink it, slow at first, almost hesitant, like I was easing back into something that still felt too new, too charged. I let myself feel it instead of rushing it, dragging the moment out the way I thought she would have.

She had me so wet. I lightly circled at my clit. My head tipped back against the pillow as I exhaled, my eyes slipping closed as the feeling hit—immediate, like my body had been waiting for it.

A small sound left me before I could stop it as I imagined the way she had looked at me when my shirt came off. The pause. The heat in her eyes.

“God…” I whispered, barely there, the word dissolving into a breath as my fingers moved, finding a rhythm.

I followed that feeling, chasing it, my hips shifting instinctively beneath my hand, a subtle roll that turned into something more deliberate when it made the sensation spike.

I pressed down harder. My breath went uneven, catching and stuttering as it built faster than I thought it would, each small movement pulling something tighter inside me.

“Fuck—” The word broke off, replaced by a shaky inhale.

My thighs tightened, drawing in as if there was something there to hold onto, my hand pressing a little firmer as I chased the feeling, trying to keep it right where it was. A soft, broken sound slipped from my throat as I tipped my head to the side, my back arching just slightly off the mattress.

“Baby—Sawyer—”

I let myself imagine her there.

On top of me. Her weight settling between my thighs, grounding me. One hand braced beside my head, the other sliding down my stomach, slow, deliberate, like she knew exactly what she was doing even if I didn’t. Her mouth at my neck, warm and open, pulling a breath out of me as her teeth grazed just enough to make my hips lift into nothing.

“Stay still,” I could almost hear her murmur, low and steady, her hand pressing me back down as her thumb found me, slow at first, then firmer, more certain.

My breath broke completely at that.

“Please…” The word came out quieter than I expected, more breath than sound.

It was the almost that did it.

The not finished. The not enough.

The way everything in me felt like it had been started and left wide open, like her hands had been everywhere and then nowhere all at once, leaving my body chasing something it couldn’t quite reach.

“Don’t stop—” I whispered, even though it was just me.

My movements lost any hesitation, chasing it now, my breath breaking into soft, uneven sounds as the tension coiled fast, too fast. My thighs trembled, pulling in, my whole body tightening around the sensation like I was trying to hold onto it and push through it at the same time.

The tension snapped before I could slow it down.

Sharp. Sudden.

My back arched fully this time, a broken sound catching in my throat as my hand stilled for a second and then pressed again, riding it out as it hit in uneven waves, pulling through me, leaving me shaking beneath the sheets.

It wasn’t smooth.

It wasn’t controlled.

It was overwhelming.