Falling For Us Again

12. SPARKS FLY

Chapter 12

SPARKS FLY

Dylan

My heart constricts as I listen to Jenna sob into my arms. The trauma of that night never left her and seeing her like this reminds me of the helplessness I felt. I've never been angrier and more scared in my life than that day, watching those men try to rape her.

I was hesitant to let her walk home alone, but my mother’s call seemed urgent. I was rushing home, but something kept gnawing at me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and it made me turn back.

When I saw her being attacked, rage and fear like nothing I knew existed rose within me. I grabbed the first thing I could find—a large rock—and hurled it at the car. The sound of breaking glass was thankfully enough to make them stop. They fled, leaving Jenna lying on the ground, broken and terrified.

I remember how I argued with Jenna when she insisted we didn’t go to the police. She was adamant, her voice shaking with fear and shame. “Please, Dylan, no police. I can’t handle that right now,” she’d pleaded, and though it went against every instinct I had, I complied. The look in her eyes was enough to break my resolve.

I memorized the car’s plate number and spent weeks, trying to track it down. But it was a dead end. The car was stolen, and there was no trace of its owners. Jenna never saw their faces clearly, and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of that failure. The thought that I might have interacted with those men before or might encounter them again without knowing made me feel sick.

Last year there was a drug bust and the meth lab caught on fire as the criminals were trying to burn evidence. The place blew up and 3 of the men died immediately.

One had burns over 90 percent of his body, and when the priest was brought in to give him last rites, he wanted to confess of his sins, one of them being the attack on Jenna.

He died the next day.

I never thought I was the kind of person that would celebrate someone’s death but here we are.

Her arms tighten around my neck as the tears continue to flow. I hold her, rubbing her back gently and offering silent support. Seeing her like this makes me realize how much power that night still holds over her, and it makes me feel weak, knowing I couldn’t do much to protect her then.

But I’m here right now. For Jenna, for the girl who stole my heart and whose pain has become my own. All the anger and hurt and betrayal that makes me hold her at arm's length shift to the recesses of my mind. For now, I just hold her, letting her know she’s not alone.

Jenna’s sobs slow into a whimper, and she pulls away from me slowly. I hand her a tissue, and she blows her nose into it, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

“Jenna, they can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I’m sorry for bawling like a child,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“Did you hear me? I said they can’t hurt you anymore.” I proceed to tell her about what happened to the men who attacked her.

Her eyes close in relief, and her arms wrap around herself. She says nothing as the tears continue to flow silently.

As much as I want to wrap her in my arms, I know she needs a little space to process all that’s happened.

A comfortable silence settles between us. I study Jenna, taking in her delicate features and the way her eyes, usually so full of life, now seem haunted by memories she’d rather forget.

She’s grown so much and accomplished so many great things in her life. Yet, at this moment, she looks small and scared, nothing like the strong, determined woman she’s groomed herself to be.

“I didn’t realize how much that day still affected me,” she says softly, her voice tinged with disappointment. It’s as if she’s berating herself for being weak, for not having moved on entirely.

Hearing the self-reproach in her voice makes my heart ache. I want to hold her until she understands that none of this is her fault. But I know words are inadequate to erase the scars left by such trauma.

“Jenna,” I begin, choosing my words carefully, “you went through something difficult; no one deserves to be in that position. It’s not a sign of weakness to still be affected by it. It’s a sign that you survived. And you’re still here, stronger than ever.”

“Sometimes, it doesn’t feel that way. Sometimes, I feel like that scared girl all over again.”

I reach out, taking her hand in mine. “That scared girl was incredibly brave. She fought back, she survived, and she’s become an amazing woman. You’re allowed to have moments where you feel vulnerable. It doesn’t take away from your strength.”

I gently brush her tears away with my thumb. Her face is so close to mine, her breath mingling with mine. She leans in, and our lips meet in a brief, tender kiss. It’s soft, hesitant, a fleeting connection that speaks of comfort and shared sorrow rather than passion.

But then something shifts. The kiss deepens, and I can feel the desperation in it—the need to forget, even if just for a moment. My hands cradle her face, and she clings to me, her fingers digging into my shoulders as if I’m her lifeline. Her tears mix with our kisses, the saltiness creating an intensity that leaves me breathless.

Her hands move to the buttons of my shirt, and I feel a surge of heat as her fingers brush against my skin. We move to the couch, our hands fumbling, our kisses growing more frantic.

The cushions creak as we fall onto them, our bodies pressed together. I explore her with my hands, tracing the soft curves of her body, wanting to worship every inch of her. Her responses fuel my desire; her gasps and moans spurring me on.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. I respond to her every touch, every sigh, and my need building with every second. Our kisses become more urgent and demanding as we seek solace and escape with each other.

But then reality crashes back. I might have complicated feelings about her, but I can't bring myself to take advantage of her vulnerability. Reluctantly, I pull away, my breath ragged, my heart pounding in my chest, and my need straining in my pants.

“Jenna, wait,” I say, my voice hoarse with desire. “We need to slow down.”

Her eyes search mine, desire and confusion mingling in their depths. “Why? I thought...”

“I know,” I say gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I want you so much, but I don't want to take advantage of you when you’re in a vulnerable state.”

She wets her lips with her tongue. “You’re not taking advantage of me Dylan. I want you to help me forget.”

She wraps her arms around my neck, pressing her body closer to mine. “The only thing I want to feel is you inside me, Dylan.”

That is all I needed to let go of my control. I kiss her, slipping my tongue into her mouth with a mounting hunger. Jenna straddles me. I hike up her dress, pushing the straps down with my teeth before pressing kisses to her collarbone. She moans as she runs her hand over my chest, feeling the warmth of my body against her palms.

Reaching around, I unclasp her bra, and my breath catch as her beautiful breasts hang free. They're full and the rosebud nipples are puckered and hard. I take one in my hand, flicking a tongue over it before sucking hard. Jenna arches her back as she whimpers. She has always loved when I worship her breasts.

“Oh yes Dylan.”

I blow cold air over her nipples and kiss around her areola, making her squirm with need. I suck a nipple deep into my mouth, biting and sucking and teasing her senselessly while flicking a finger over the other. Jenna’s eyes flutter shut at the pleasurable torture.

I slide a hand up her thigh, making my way to the juncture, and slip a finger into her wetness using my thumb to stimulate her. Jenna moans and slides a hand up and down over my bulging erection, making me grit my teeth. We moan together, lost in our joint ecstasy.

“That feels so good, Jenna,” I whisper against her opened mouth as we continue to kiss.

She smiles against my lips as she strokes me faster now. My member is thick, long, and hard, aching to be sheathed in her tight wetness. Jenna plays with my moisture, spreading it over the head. I moan, kissing her harder now as I throb in her hand.

“I want to bury myself inside you.”

“I want you to.”

I brush my tip against her drenched folds, and she sucks in a deep breath. I lift her up and guide her down slowly, sliding all the way into her. She moans loudly, arms wrapped around my neck, back arched in pleasure.

“Oh shit,” I moan, pleasure sweeping over me as her tightness stretches over my member, swallowing it completely.

I grab her hips as we adjust and move in rhythm. Pleasure pours from every angle with each thrust. I suck on a nipple as I slam her up and down on top of me, feeling a surge of masculine satisfaction as her moans mix with deep wet sucking sounds as I slide in and out of her.

I flip her underneath me, lifting her legs up over my shoulders. Tilting her hips up, I thrust deep while grinding against her pleasure nub.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. I'm going to cum.” She screams.

I grab her breasts, squeezing the nipples as I grind even faster. With a final thrust, we explode together, her inside quivering around me, sucking every drop from my body as she jerks in ecstasy.

I wrap my arms around her as we ride the waves of pleasure together.

For a few minutes, our ragged breaths and pounding hearts are the only sounds in the room.

Shifting, I pull her on top of me, kissing her forehead, her chin, and the nape of her neck before kissing her on the lips.

She lays her head on my shoulder, and I can feel the rhythm of her breath mingling with the beating of my heart. I slide my hand up and down her bare back.

Neither of us say a word, as we relish the comfortable silence that settles around us. Her fingers lightly trace patterns on my arm, a tender gesture that says more than words ever could.

As the minutes pass, I can feel her breathing slowly become more rhythmic. Her head is nestled comfortably against my shoulder, and her body gradually grows heavier, exhaustion overtaking her.

“Jenna,” I whisper, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake.

Her eyes flutter open for a moment, locking with mine before closing again, trust evident in her sleepy gaze.