SYLVIE
and
the
SPARK
Book
one in the Sylvie Series
Gianna Day
Chapter 1
“You’re
just so…” Dave looks into my eyes and runs his finger down my cheek.
Please don’t say
pretty. Anything but pretty.
“You’re
so…”
If you call me
pretty for the thousandth time I’m going to try to gnaw my own face off just to
ensure that I am no longer pretty.
“You’re
so… pretty.”
“I
am not pretty, Dave.” My voice is
loud and edgy as I jump from the couch.
“But
Sylvie, you’re so pretty.”
“I’m
sorry,” I say, pacing back and forth in front of him. “I mean, thank you. Thank
you for thinking I’m pretty. And I know this is our foreplay, that you tell me
I’m pretty and touch my face, which truthfully has always struck me as just a
little bit creepy. I mean, it’s almost a tickle, like you’re tickling my cheek
and I think that’s weird. Is that weird? Is this just me?” I stop pacing and
look at him for an answer.
“I
could touch your arm first, would that be better?”
Resume
pacing.
“No,
Dave. Look, I have to be honest. We need to try something different.”
“Gosh,
Sylvie. What if I called you beautiful?”
Don’t pull your
hair out in front of him, he’ll be scarred for life.
“Dave.”
I sit back down on the couch and hold his hands.
“Yes,
Sylvie?” He looks like a second grader hoping someone will pick him for their
kickball team.
“Could
you just try to be less of a puppy?”
“Less
of a puppy?”
He
flashes his puppy dog eyes.
“Yes.”
“You
want me to be a kitty?”
“No,
Dave. I don’t want you to be a kitty. I want you to be a tiger, Dave.”
“A
tiger?”
“A
tiger!” I stand back up. “I want you to be my big strong tiger and I want you
to roar for me.”
“You
want me to roar?”
I
take off my shirt and bra, unbutton my jeans, stand before him, and cup my
breasts.
“Show
me what a tiger you can be, Dave.”
He
stands up from the couch and speaks in a tone I’ve never heard before. It is
deep and guttural and almost a growl.
“I’ll show you what a tiger I can be.” He pulls my hips roughly into his. Then
he slides one hand into my jeans and a finger inside me. With the other hand he
cups my neck and puts his lips to my ear. And he whispers: “Roar.”
I
actually whimper in response. He takes off my jeans and panties and then
quickly removes his own clothes. This tiger thing is actually working, and if
need be I will role play through an entire zoo of wild animals if that’s what
it takes to get us out of our rut and into some hard core rutting.
“I’m
going to fuck you like a tiger,” he says, and literally throws me down on the
couch. I ignore the pain of what will later be a nasty bruise on my shin,
because I don’t want to break what we have going.
“That’s
right, Dave,” I whisper. “Give it to me.” I’m more excited than I’ve been in a
long time. He comes to me on the couch, hovering over me as I wrap my legs
around him. He leans down until his cock barely grazes me, but then pulls back.
I’m aching and arching up for him. He does this again and I claw at his back.
I’m
both fearful and hopeful that he’s going to keep up the tease. He leans his
head down next to mine, whispers, “I’m a tiger,” and enters me with startling
force.
I’m
ready to settle in for a good long screw, but Dave has new life in him, which
is a good thing for his sake. He uses one arm to brace himself against the
couch and the other to scoop me up from under my waist. He’s still inside me as
he pivots until he’s sitting upright on the couch and I’m straddled on top of
him. With my hands on his shoulders I push myself slightly up and then sit down
hard on his cock, grinding in with all I have. He moans, kneading my buttocks.
I come down on him again and he leans forward to suck on my right nipple,
before moving to the left, so as not to play favorites. My hips slow but move
with the same force; I’m savoring every second of riding him. I should have
asked him to be a tiger years ago.
He
spreads his fingers wide and puts his hands on my sides, high at my ribcage. He
uses his hands to guide me up and down and we begin to move faster. And for the
love of all things naughty, I detect an orgasm in my future, that long departed
but fondly remembered friend who lessened in frequency the longer Dave and I
kept up this boyfriend-girlfriend thing. But I’m not dwelling on the past now.
I’m rising up and coming down hard on Dave, who still has his I’m-a-tiger face
firmly in place. When I come down on him I linger for a second and press hard
before rising up again. I throw my head back and he reaches up, trailing his
fingers along my neck and down my chest. I place my hands on his forearms; they
are muscled and taut and suddenly sexy.
“Fuck
me,” he says. And I do.
“Fuck
me,” I say. And he does.
I
ride him for only another minute before I feel a lightness in my toes. It rises
up through my ankles and calves and knees and thighs. Sensation explodes
through my cunt as Dave grits his teeth, moans and bucks up into me. He pulses
inside me. We rock for a few more seconds before coming to rest. I want us to
be here forever. I’m about to tell him that we should do this again, that I
can’t believe we’ve broken new ground, that I want to laugh with him and love
him and screw until we’re too sore to keep going. And then he looks up at me
and raises his arm.
Don’t do it.
His
finger trails my cheek.
Stay with me,
Tiger. Come on, don’t turn puppy on me now!
“You’re
so… pretty.”
