Sparks by Yolanda Olson
When I wakeup the next morning, I have a splitting headache. So much so, that the small sliver of sunlight that’s peeking in through the blinds causes me to grimace and shrink under my blanket, but the material doesn’t move because it’s not just my arm weighing it down.
“What?” I grumble to no one in particular.
“Go back to sleep, Mom,” the tired voice replies, pulling me tightly back against him.
It’s obviously Luke, which surprises me considering how I left our relationship dangling by a thread last night.
I don’t have the heart to argue with him, to tell him that he shouldn’t be pressed so tightly against me, instead, I close my eyes again and hope that he gets tired of having to coddle me soon.
After another half hour passes and I can tell he’s fallen asleep against me again, I take a deep breath and do my best to slip away from his arms without waking him up. As I get to my feet and turn to face him, I run my hands up my arms, my body shivering.
I never knew I would be able to make something as beautiful as my son, and yet here he is. Fifteen years of age and as much of a man as any other I cross on the streets.
It’s no wonder that I have to indulge myself from time to time.
And it’s no wonder that he lets me.
He’s always told me since he could talk that I was the most beautiful mommy in the world and his touch proves it time and time again.
I turn my back to him and try as quietly as I can to walk out of the room when a pillow lands squarely on my back. I gasp in initial shock as I turn to face my son who’s sitting up on his elbows grinning at me with a tired expression dancing in his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” I tell him softly, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
He looks so fucking innocent when he’s lying in my bed and it’s in these moments that I desperately want to touch him the most.
I bite my lower lip and take a step closer to the bed, when Luke raises his eyebrows at me. He knows what I want, but will he be willing to give it to me again so soon?
“Do you love me?” I ask him in tone soft enough that I know it will harden his cock. It’s a little trick I use when I want to love him with more than just my touch.
“Aw, mom. You know I do,” he replies, leaning back against the pillows and crossing his arms loosely over his chest.
“Then show me,” I say simply.
Luke runs a hand over his face as he darts his eyes toward the bedroom window. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to jump, but it will be the last time if he sees fit to defy me again.
“Ow,” I say, putting my hands to the sides of my head.
“Are you okay?” he asks curiously. I have to hide the smile that slips across my lips when I hear the bed creak. While it’s true I do suffer from headaches that render me useless every now and again, this isn’t one of those times.
I just want to feel his cock inside of me again, and the only way to do this will be to take him off guard.
Luke comes over and takes me by the forearms, pulling my hands away from my face, and leaning down to look into my eyes.
“Mom?” he asks timidly.
When he sees the devious smile on my face, he takes a staggering step back, but I’m faster. I rush forward and push him onto his back, our bodies bouncing on the bed as I straddle him and grin.
“Show Mommy how much you love her, little boy,” I whisper as I reach down and pull my shirt over my head.
Luke pushes me away, but I pull him closer. I’m much stronger than he is when it comes to moments like this, even if I don’t look it.
He knows he won’t be able to resist me once I slide my hand into his boxers, but this sweet boy—he’s constantly torn between pleasing his mother and saving his own soul from the monster I’ve become.
“Mom, please?” he begs, pushing me away again. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
I raise an eyebrow and drop my hands to my sides. He should know better than to deny me the one thing I want most from him, and he knows that defiance isn’t something I handle well.
Show him that he’ll always need you.
I smack him across the face as hard as I can, the sound echoing off the walls in my bedroom and he takes a step back in shock. I’m fighting a war inside of my head right now to be Taylee, the mother and not Sister Taylee, the whore that let his father fuck me like the worthless soul I had become.
But it’s no use.
Not when I see his shoulders drop and the determination now gleaming in his eyes. He knows that he has to love me because no one else will.
Nor will they love him—not like I do.
Not ever like I do.
I just have to be gentle with him and ease him back into the bed instead of knocking him over like a rabid animal sick with disease and he’ll do what I want.
He always does, because he’s such a good boy.
