Firecracker

Sienna

“Why the hell do you keep showing up?” she snapped as I turned the corner to her place. “You’ve got a girlfriend—what the fuck are you looking for? Not that I expect loyalty from someone like you.”

I let out a low chuckle, the sound slipping past my lips before I could stop it. She was chaos wrapped in fire, always talking, always loud—but somehow, she made every space feel like it had a pulse.

“You’re right,” I said easily.

She spun toward the window, a hiss escaping her like she was holding back steam. “Don’t start with that. I see the trick—you agree with everything, and suddenly I’m the one yelling at myself like a lunatic.”

“You mad?”

“I can’t even be mad. You could literally kill me. My whole situation is messed up.” Her voice cracked just a little at the edges, more panic than anger now.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Oh, am I? Says the man whose life didn’t get flipped upside down just because I touched the hand of some charming psycho at a club.”

“You’ve got a point,” I said, turning slightly toward her. Her jaw was clenched tight. She was big mad.

“I’m going to die,” she muttered, almost to herself. “That’s what my brain keeps repeating. I’ve been a model citizen my whole damn life. And now? I’m caught up in this shit.”

“You’re not going to die,” I said calmly. “If anything, your life’s more secure now than it’s ever been.”

“Oh please. I don’t even like you.”

“That’s not what your body said the last time. You were just spooked by a little blood.”

She whipped around, mouth falling open in disbelief. “No. Seriously. I don’t like you. Your girlfriend—or whatever the hell she is—dragged me here at gunpoint. She threatened me! I almost got shot! And look at you—sitting there, cool as hell, like you’re not a walking fucking danger sign.”

I didn’t answer. I just kept driving.

She kept talking—ranting, really—but I wasn’t listening to the words anymore. Her voice was like smoke—filling the car, curling around my thoughts, warm even when she was furious. I braked hard in front of her building. She jumped out before the engine finished cooling, storming toward her door like her anger could shield her from everything.

Her hoodie slipped off as she walked, and her hair caught the wind—wild and brown and alive, like she was too furious to tie herself down. I followed at my own pace. By the time I reached her, she was already at the door, ready to slam it in my face.

I pushed it open before she could. Easy. She wasn’t strong enough to stop me—not when I’d already decided I was coming in.

Her place was small—tiny, even—but it felt more like a home than anything I’d ever known. It smelled like her. A mix of sugar, ink, and the faintest trace of vanilla lotion. My eyes landed on the half-zipped backpack near the couch.

She was planning to run.

Cute.

Like I wouldn’t find her again.

“Are you not going to leave?” she snapped, pacing now, arms folded tight across her chest.

I didn’t answer. My thoughts were already ahead of her tantrum.

“Come here,” I said.

She blinked, confused. “What?”

“Come here, firecracker,” I repeated, my voice low, steady. “You know I’ll get you either way.”

She stood there, torn, then finally stepped closer—but not all the way. Not yet.

I didn’t wait. I reached out, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her onto my lap in one smooth motion. She gasped, straddling me now, her hands pushing against my chest.

“What are you—” she started.

“You can rant from here,” I murmured against the skin of her neck as I pressed a kiss there, soft and slow. Her scent hit me all over again.

She squirmed, trying to get free.

I held her firm.

“Go on,” I whispered, fingers slipping beneath the oversized hoodie. “Complain all you want.”

She gasped, breath catching hard in her throat as my hand cupped her bare breast. No bra. My thumb circled her nipple, slow and deliberate, and she stiffened—but not to stop me.

“Stop,” she breathed out, weakly.

I smirked, not moving my hand. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” she whispered, but her hips had already shifted, grinding the heat of her center right against me—making my cock throb from wanting her back.

“You sure?” I asked, stilling. “Because the way you’re pressing against my cock says otherwise.”

Her eyes met mine—wide, wild, and wet with need. She didn’t say a damn thing. She looked long enough to be in conflict with what she was going to do with me.

“I’ll stop,” I said, letting my hand slide down her stomach, my fingers barely grazing the edge of her panties. “Just say the word. Tell me to leave. Tell me I can’t touch you again.”

Still nothing.

“Didn’t think so,” I growled.

I dipped lower, sliding beneath the fabric. She sucked in a breath, her body tightening, thighs squeezing around me as I found her—wet, hot, and soaked for me.

“Fuck,” I muttered, voice dark. “You were gonna run, huh? Like this? Dripping wet, smelling like sex and attitude?”

She whimpered, head falling against my shoulder.

“You like making me chase you, firecracker, is that it?” I said, fingers teasing slow circles between her legs. “You like pretending you hate me while your pussy tells the truth.”

“You’re an asshole,” she said, breathless, her words almost coming out like a moan.

“Yeah? But you’re grinding that pretty little cunt on my hand like it’s mine.”

She moaned—quiet and defiant. I caught her chin, forcing her to look at me.

“Say it, Sienna,” I growled. “Say who makes you feel like this.”

Her lips parted, and her body rocked against my fingers, but she wouldn’t say anything. I slowed down, attempting to pull back—but she held my hands still.

“You,” she whispered. “You do.”

I rewarded her with more pressure, sliding a finger inside—just one—slow and deep. Her back arched, hoodie riding up, exposing more of her skin.

“That’s right,” I murmured. “This body’s mine right now. You got that, firecracker?”

She nodded, grinding harder.

“Say it.”

“It’s yours,” she gasped.

I brought my mouth back to hers, kissing her like I wanted to ruin her taste for anyone else. My fingers worked her slow, torturously slow, while my other hand gripped her ass, guiding her rhythm.

“You can’t run from this,” I whispered in her ear. “From me.” She was trembling now, thighs twitching, lips parted in a desperate moan.

And I wasn’t even close to being done.