Virgin Spark

by Celia Crown

  “Separate rooms!” I cut in sharply, “And you can’t tell Leslie. She thinks I got the key from the building manager.”

  “But you didn’t,” Luke corrects with that impassive face when I look up at him.

  “As I said, Anna, I don’t want to know,” Forester says as he shakes his head.

  He turns his attention to Luke, pretending I am invisible or too short with two tree trunks in the middle of a forest.

  “Chief,” Forester greets Luke.

  A lightbulb on top of my headlights up and everything makes sense now.

  Chief as in Fire Department’s Chief. The one that has the highest rank.

  “I knew something was off about Luke. He’s your friend!” I point the finger at Forester with an emotion inkling towards betrayal.

  I had a feeling about Luke, but I couldn’t put my fingers on it. Now I understand why I felt that way. It’s because he and Forester are similar. Both are authoritative commanders that control a bunch of minions under them. Forester likes to poke fun of me, and Luke is the no-nonsense type of guy that wants to make me cry.

  He even admitted it himself!

  “Now, I have two bullies.” I choke with a whimper, tears rimming at the bottom of my lashes.

  Luke lets go of my hand, circling his fingers around my jaw in a nonchalant threatening grip in front of the police chief. Our eyes meet, and he is as remorseless as the bottom of the unexplored ocean. My heart is either beating from his touch or the crippling pressure he has on my jaw.

  To make it easier on myself, I’m going to think my heart is doing flips because I might have a secret—albeit enormous, crush on him.

  “Is this what you call bullying?”

  I would have to be more foolish to admit that, but my mind and mouth don’t match up at times.

  “Yes.”

  Please open the ground and drag me down the eighteenth’s realm of hell.

  “I’m just going to… go.” I flash Luke a smile and give Forester a stink eye before running down the streets.

  Turning over my shoulder, I raise my hand to give Luke a little wave, and he tips his head. He acknowledged my wave, and I’m too happy to care about everything else.

  Chapter Four

  Luke

  Coming to an empty apartment with a sugary scent whiffing from the other unit is a strange experience. I’m used to the plain scent with a hint of laundry detergent. It’s how I know that no one had been in my place since it’s the smell of basics.

  I don’t use air fresheners or cologne. It messes with my sense of smell over time. I need to be on my best performance because I could get called to a fire incident at any time. My nose can’t be affected by chemicals when I need them to distinguish if there were any accelerants used.

  The clean plate from Anna’s cookies is on my kitchen counter, and I have to return it soon, but I don’t know when she is due home. I don’t know her or her roommate’s schedule. The lights are off in their unit, so I assume that they aren’t home yet.

  It’s already close to ten, and I just got home from work; my schedule varies depending on the amount of paperwork and other matters that needed to be overseen. I am the Chief, so more responsibilities fall on me with the lives of my men in my hands, but I’m good at being responsible.

  It’s easy to fall into the position where I command my men and women under me, but I don’t treat them based on their ranks. In my house, we’re a family no matter how much of an unapproachable man I am.

  They know that I am strict, but I’m fair to everyone. They have second chances when they make mistakes. It’s how they learn to do better next time. They can’t learn if I’m oppressing them. I want them to be a better self than who they were yesterday.

  I crack my neck; the sound relieves with the pressure on my spine as I sigh. The day was rough. We had a call of a fire at a house with a stubborn old woman who wouldn’t leave the toxic gassed house without her cats.

  Then our power spreads even thinner when there was a hazardous incident with unidentified materials on the freeway. Traffic got worse when people are too curious to focus on moving through. They wanted to see the massive car crash and try to play detective with their cameras and any clues as to what happened.

  Every day for me is an adrenaline rush. I have not experienced a slow day since there’s always something happening. Most of the time is people without common sense causing incidents that are absolutely avoidable if they just stop for a moment to look at a bigger picture.

  Or at least look one step ahead so they can see the consequences.

  Apparently, that’s asking too much.

  The number of responsible civilians has to equal the number of irresponsible morons.

  I down a bottle of water. The chilled water runs down my throat and filling my stomach quickly as I need the hydration. I smell like smoke. It sticks to clothes, and my skin has the feeling of grime slathered all over me.

  It’s a tiring day, but people were saved, and we prevented more damages just in time.

  My doorbell rings as I toss out the empty plastic bottle in the recycling bin right next to the trashcan. This building is a huge advocate for saving the planet. I don’t mind following the rules, but they need to stop nagging everyone if one person intentionally or unintentionally puts the wrong things in the wrong bin.

  I have gotten the same repetitive message stuck on the wall next to the elevator door whenever it happens. Sometimes I would get notes in the mail to remind me how the world would be a better place if I became one of the voices for mother nature.

  It’s one of those overzealous Homeowner Association members because their logo is stamped on the letter.

  I click my tongue as the ringing from my doorbell insist that I open the door. I do open it with vigor, glaring down at the pair of gorgeous amber eyes and a grinning face.

  My cock jerks awake. I pretend I didn’t just bite my tongue to stop a curse from being voiced out.

  I can tell it’s going to be a problem. I don’t think my body can handle being near her and not have a reaction. I am a hot-blooded man with needs, though I don’t tend to them with anything other than my hands. I have never wanted anyone more than I want Anna to reduce to a teary mess under me.

  “What?” I open the door further and glance down at the plate of a round chocolate cake.

  I may not like sweet things, but I’m not ignorant of them. I know some of the desserts being advertised on every platform, and I know they try to make it appealing to everyone with the extravagant displays of caramel drizzles and thick cream.

  My teeth ache by the time the advertisement ends.

  “Leslie got mad at me because I ate your cookies,” she says with a guilty flick of her pink tongue.

  I really wish she didn’t do that, not when I have had a long day with self-control lower than the couch in the living room.

  “So, I made you a molten chocolate lava cake,” Anna smiles with a breathy giggle.

  The chocolate overpowers her natural scent, and I don’t like it. I like smelling that faint floral scent on her, and I can almost taste the sweetness of her lips again.

  It wasn’t enough in the elevator. I didn’t intend on doing what I did, but when she looked so distraught and frightened, I had to do something to stop myself from doing something that will make her cry.

  I still want her to shed tears right now with that hopeful expression.

  “I don’t like sweets,” I remind her of what I said last night.

  Her lips downturns, “I know, but Leslie said I took the welcoming gift from you.”

  “Take it back,” I say.

  Anna’s amber eyes water slightly, “Please eat it; I worked so hard on it.”

  I don’t think she’s listening to me anymore. The fact that I just said I don’t like sweets is lost in translation in her head. She’s too focused on the cake to care what she’s even doing at my door, and I curse myself for being weak against that pout.

  “Do you wan
t to eat it?” I raise an eyebrow. Amusement bursts through my chest when she nods strongly with an eager radiance in her eyes.

  I tip my head as I motion her to come into my apartment. She doesn’t question my motives as she tosses off her shoes and runs towards the kitchen as if she has been here more than once. The level of comfort when she stands in my home strikes a chord of wicked intentions, but it’s the perky doe-eyes that hit too close to my heart.

  “Sit,” I said while moving to my drawers to get a fork out.

  When I turn around, she’s sitting with her ass bouncing giddily on the kitchen chair. My cock jumps at the thought of her on top of me, struggling to take my shaft into her tight pussy and begging me to help her milk my cock.

  The disgusting part of me whispers for me to get a glass of milk from the refrigerator. It’s the first time in years that I have milk in my apartment, and I just got it from the grocery store after work. I brought it home, and then I realized that I don’t drink milk.

  It’s for Anna and her sickeningly sweet treats.

  My body knew she was coming back before my brain caught up to the possibility that I will be seeing her a lot since she’s my neighbor now. It’s going to be problematic when I’m constantly hard with thoughts of me fucking her little cunt. Her big innocent eyes aren’t helping at all.

  She doesn’t know the turmoil rolling throughout me right now.

  “Come, sit, sit!” she slaps the kitchen table.

  I take a seat at the head of the rectangular table; her seat is close to the edge as she scoots closer. She smiles even more as she digs the silver fork into the cake in an angle for my view. The chocolate on the inside runs slowly onto the porcelain white plate as she squeals in hyped excitement.

  Anna’s expectant amber eyes widen as she looks for approval on me. I’m not sure how I should tell her that I really don’t give a shit about the running chocolate presentation. I’m too taken back by the beauty of her smile. It affects my mind so much that my heart wants to beat its way out of my ribs.

  “Taste it! Leslie can’t say that you didn’t get my gift!” she holds up a piece of cake with chocolate dripping between the fork.

  I grunt and shoot a stern glare at her. I keep my lips sealed as she inches closer with that sweetness. I’m getting a headache from having sugar mingling with smoke from a house fire. It’s a nauseating combination that makes my stomach churn.

  “You don’t want to try it?” Anna’s happiness drops, disappointment clouding her upset amber hues.

  Fuck, I bite the inside of my cheek.

  I hold my breath and take the piece of cake into my mouth, and I instantly regret it. I forgot how much I dislike sweets until the unbelievably thick chocolate coats my throat when I try to force it down without chewing. The less flavor I taste, the better it is for me to not clean my mouth with three rounds of mint mouthwash.

  “How is it?” she leans in, waiting for my critique.

  I want to tell her that it’s disgusting for someone who doesn’t like sweets to taste a pound of sugar in one bite. I don’t have the heart to go and be an asshole; it’s going to break her little heart, and I’ll have to answer to my conscious while it yells at me for being a dumbass.

  “Not my type of food,” I say, and I leave it at that.

  She’ll understand; everyone has a different taste, and mine happens to favor savory dishes.

  “Oh,” Anna says, blinking while she shifts in her seat.

  She expected more from me, but I can’t give her anything other than a bullshit answer to spare her of the disappointment.

  “Finish it,” I wrap my hand around her tiny wrist and push the fork back down to the plate.

  With the type of happiness of a child opening presents on Christmas morning, she gives me the biggest smile that monetarily blinds me. I’m not going to complain about it. It’s a blessing to see her radiate brighter than the damn sun from this morning.

  I don’t know what this feeling that’s blooming in my chest like a rave, but I’m getting used to the thrumming of my blood finding its way down my waist.

  It’s impossible to tell where the physiological and psychological line blur when I’m thinking about Anna.

  “If Leslie asks, you ate the cake,” Anna digs into the cake and shoves a piece into her mouth.

  The squeal of pleasure and a soft moan would end me if I didn’t end the table first. I’m glad this table is stronger than my grip on it or else it would have disseminated under the pulses of my cock.

  I can cum untouched if she moans again.

  She’s trying my patience, and I’m not known for my ability to wait for things.

  “What’s wrong?” Anna asks, oblivious and naïve.

  I can’t tell her that I’m trying really hard to not throw her on the table, rip my clothes off of her and split her small cunt apart with my fat cock.

  I’m taller than her, so it doesn’t take much effort to lean over and smash our lips together, taking the bitterness of the chocolate with my tongue as I slide my tongue through her teeth.

  The fork clashes with the plate, and she’s startled by the sound, but she makes no move to pull away as I devour her little mewls and throaty moans. It’s the only acceptable form of sweets that I want. The chocolate is a bonus because it heightens her own honeyed lips.

  “Wait—”

  Biting her lips does break off her thoughts, but it’s only for a second as she pants against my mouth. I lick her lips, dropping small kisses on her plumpness before she finds her strength to pull back.

  “Um, you can’t do that,” she mumbles, cheeks too red to meet my eyes as she cast her gaze down on the cake.

  “We’re not dating,” it’s a hushed squawk with a hint of embarrassment etched onto her pink skin.

  It’s adorable how innocent her thought process is. I never liked labels; I prefer people call me by my name instead of my title at work, but they’re too intimated by me to do so, and I don’t want to be called an aggressive alpha male in the eyes of society.

  I just want to be Luke.

  “Then date me,” I say.

  It’s not a hard decision. I want Anna, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to get her in my arms. I have a keen eye for details, and it takes me a split second to notice that I have the same effect on her as she does on me.

  Her blush and shy demeanor are clear indicators, and her inexperience with men shines through last night when she would dare look below my waist. The emotion and physical attraction for me sing a song of pride, and my chest would puff up in accomplishment when she blushes.

  “Wait, really?” she blinks in surprise, her big eyes darting from left to right to search for any humor in my eyes.

  I would never joke about something this serious. I want to be with Anna, and this hysterical need to dominate her lines liquid sin into the crevices of my thoughts.

  “Well?” I growl from with my chest. It trails off into a purr of approval as she breathes out a yes.

  Once she said yes, she’s mine in every way.

  It means that I can kiss her whenever I want and I want it now; her lips are mine to taste and to swallow her soft cries of my name when I twist my fingers into her luscious black hair.

  I pull her out of her chair and cup the corner of the table, so she doesn’t hurt herself when I yank her down to my lap. Anna’s arms brace on my chest for balance as she gasps at the change of position. The short maneuver keeps her disoriented as I press my lips to her neck.

  Soft and delicate, my teeth are merciless when I nibble on her tender skin. I’m on a mission to mark her up. Any visible place needs to have my possessiveness branded on to ward off men who wants Anna for themselves.

  I have seen how people look at her just by walking down the streets. She emits a powerful aphrodisiac that gets mistaken for vulnerability. She is both, and she has no idea what she does to men.

  Everything from the way she walks to how she speaks appeals to men’s innate cavemen instincts to s
pread her legs and breed her little pussy.

  “The cake—” she murmurs, folding her arms around my neck and burying her face into my hair.

  In a heated moment of passion, she’s thinking of her cake when I’m trying to brand her. It would be an experience to be in her mind for once day and see how she thinks. I can’t follow her train of thoughts when her expression flashes different feelings in a millisecond.

  My cock stuffs between her ass, nuzzling the warmth of her plushness as she wiggles at the hardness.

  “Oh!” amber eyes widen in shock, and her spine straightens as the blush darken. “It’s— um, really big.”

  It’s a high-pitched whisper, and it’s so mind-blowing of the things she says without knowing the effects it has on me.

  “Don’t say things like that, Anna.”

  “I’m sorry,” she pouts, not an ounce of remorse in her tone.

  Our moment gets interrupted by a doorbell. My back straightens in caution. It’s late at night, and I don’t have visitors during this hour. Only Anna has ever used the doorbell before, and this is a new thing that I tell myself to make a key for her.

  “Stay here,” I order her, and she obediently nods with big eyes.

  Anna waits in the seat that I put her in, and I look over my shoulder to make sure she’s not letting her curiosity get the best of her. I need to assess the situation without worrying about Anna’s safety at ten-thirty at night.

  I peer through the peephole, and it’s the same woman who just transferred into my station house. Leslie is what Forester called her when he recommended her service to my unit, and I accepted her upon further review from her service records.

  She has a stellar recommendation from other people too, and I know I made the right choice by accepting her because it also led me to get my hands on Anna.

  “Yes?” I open the door for her, and she nods her greeting with dead eyes.

  It’s not the type of dead from tiredness, but it’s a deadpanned stare that rides a trail of goosebumps down my back.