Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Zoe

I sit at my computer, fingers flying over the keys as I finalize some work.

My bedroom in the modular home is cozy and rustic, like a little farmhouse oasis in the middle of the desert.

Wooden beams stretch across the ceiling, and the walls are adorned with vintage signs and old farm tools I picked up from antique shops.

A soft, plaid blanket is draped over the back of my chair, and the scent of lavender from the diffuser on my nightstand fills the air.

The cursor blinks at me, waiting for my next command.

I sit down at my computer, the farmhouse warmth of my room contrasting sharply with the cool glow of the screen.

My fingers dance over the keyboard, navigating through folders and files until I find our latest shoot.

Mandy and I had outdone ourselves this time—a sultry blend of soft light and shadows that highlight every curve and angle in the most flattering way.

I pull up the editing software and get to work, carefully cutting and splicing footage until it's perfect.

No stray tattoos, no identifiable marks.

I've always been meticulous about this.

Tattoos are too permanent, too traceable.

I don't want anything that could connect me to the content we produce.

The cursor blinks, waiting for my next command. I compress the file, watching as the progress bar slowly fills.

My heart beats faster—part excitement, part anxiety.

This is the moment where all the hard work pays off.

With a final click, it's done.

I set the release for Friday at midnight, knowing an automated email will hit our subscribers' inboxes moments later.

"Let's see what we've got," I whisper, refreshing the analytics page.

Within ten minutes, the numbers start rolling in.

Over a thousand early access purchases.

The screen lights up with dollar signs, each one a testament to the crave for exclusivity and allure.

Another $25,000 split between Mandy and me.

It's insane how much money people are willing to spend, but then again, nothing shocks me anymore.

The money is good—better than good—but it's not just about that.

It's about the independence, the control over my own fate.

I lean back in my chair, sometimes unable to believe just how much I've accomplished.

Most of the club members have mobile homes scattered across the property, but I managed to get this nicer modular home with the money I make working for OneEye.

No one knows what I do except Mandy—and somehow Spark.

That thought sends a shiver down my spine.

How does he know?

Maybe Mandy let it slip, or he overheard something?

I can't afford for anyone else to find out, especially not my father.

He would tell me I don't need to do it, that he could provide for me.

But he doesn't understand—it's about more than money.

It's about independence, control, and knowing I can stand on my own two feet.

My phone buzzes on the desk, jolting me from my thoughts.

I pick it up, half-expecting a message from Spark, but it's just a notification from OneEye.

I dismiss it and look at the time.

I click the final button to compress the video file and lean back in my chair, stretching my arms above my head.

The memory of Spark hitting Jacob flashes through my mind again, sending a shiver down my spine.

I can't get it out of my head—the way he moved so fast, so decisively.

He didn't hesitate for a second before landing that punch, and damn if it wasn't the hottest thing a man's ever done for me.

"Get a grip, Zoe," I mutter to myself, shaking my head as if it'll clear the intrusive thoughts.

But it doesn't work because all I can see is the intensity in his eyes, the raw power in his stance.

He made me feel something I haven't felt in a long time—protected, desired.

My phone buzzes on the desk, pulling me from my thoughts.

It's Bridget, asking if I want to go out dancing tonight.

I shoot back a quick text:

Sure, sounds fun! Need a distraction anyway.

Bridget is one of Raven's half-sisters, and is also one of my roommates.

She lives in my place with me and pays me $400 bucks a month to rent a room, as does her little sister, Danica.

Standing up, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My hair's a mess, but even that reminds me of Spark's fingers running through it.

I shake my head again, harder this time.

Focus, Zoe.

Tonight's about fun, not lingering fantasies.

The memory of Jacob staggering backward, clutching his face, replays in my mind as I rummage through my closet.

The sheer force of Spark's punch had been enough to silence everyone around us, including me.

A small smile tugs at my lips as I pull out a slinky black dress.

Yeah, tonight I need a distraction, and maybe a bit of trouble wouldn't hurt either.

As I start to get ready, I glance at my phone once more, half-expecting Spark to text me.

But there's nothing.

Just the stillness of my room and the racing of my heart.

"Why does he have to be so damn irresistible?" I whisper to myself, slipping into my dress.

It's not just about the punch. It's about how he made me feel—safe, wanted, alive.

Bridget's voice calls from the hallway, snapping me back to reality. "Zoe, you ready?"

"Yeah, coming! I didn't even hear you come in," I reply, grabbing my heels and heading out.

Bridget throws her head back, "I guess that's part of my charm."

We waste no time leaving my house and getting into Bridget's car.

The drive to the bar is filled with laughter and music blasting from Bridget's car stereo.

The anticipation builds with every mile, and by the time we pull up to the new bar, we're both buzzing with excitement.

"Here we go," Bridget says, parking the car. "Time to cause some trouble."

"Hell yeah!" I grin, linking my arm with hers as we step into the pulsating heart of the bar, ready to lose ourselves in the night.

As we enter the bar, the strobe lights flash vibrant colors across the dance floor.

I needed a night out, a night to forget about all of the things I worry about, yet can't control.

Music pulses through my veins, a steady beat that matches the rhythm of my heart.

Bridget and I both get drinks and make our way to the dance floor, getting lost in the bliss of the evening.

I lift my drink to my lips, savoring the sweetness of the fruity concoction as Bridget and I sway to the music.

I don't know how long we're out here on the floor, but after a while, there isn't a drop of liquor in my drink.

Bridget shouts over the music, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Let's get another round!"

I yell back, but just then, my phone buzzes in my purse. "Sure thing!"

I dig it out, squinting at the screen.

It's a text from Spark:

Where'd you run off to?

Without hesitation, I share my location with him and slip my phone back into my purse, letting the music reclaim me.

The dance floor is crowded, bodies moving in sync, lost in the euphoria of the night.

I close my eyes, letting the bass thrum through me, feeling alive and free.

"Hey! Earth to Zoe, drinks, remember? Plus, those guys at the bar seem interested," Bridget says with a mischievous grin, pointing to a pair of men who have been eyeing us.

I walk up to the bar with her and we proceed to order our drinks, the guys' eyes glued to us.

"They sure know how to stare," Bridget says with a laugh, leaning against the counter. "Let's give them a show."

We grab our drinks and sway a little, the music acting as our puppet master, making us dance like there's no tomorrow.

The men watch as we move, their gazes appreciative.

One of them is blonde and has a boyish charm about him.

The other has a rugged look, with stubble on his face and messy, dark hair.

Bridget winks at me before stepping toward them, engaging them in a conversation that I have no interest in.

So, I turn away from their ogling eyes to move to the rhythm of the song blaring from the speakers.

I stay on the dance floor, my body swaying with the music, lost in the moment.

Suddenly, I feel a warm presence behind me—a body pressed against mine, firm and insistent.

My heart skips a beat, and then I feel something else—a hard cock pressing into me.

Rage flares within me, and I whirl around, hand raised to slap the asshole who dared to violate my space.

But I freeze mid-motion when I see Spark's familiar face, his dark chocolate eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Spark!" I gasp, lowering my hand. "I was about to slap you so hard."

He chuckles, low and husky, leaning in close enough for me to feel his breath against my ear. "I like it when you're spicy," he murmurs, clicking his tongue. "I like that for you, Spicy."

"Spicy?" I repeat, arching an eyebrow, confusion mingling with the remnants of my anger.

"Yeah," he says, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "It's your new pet name. Fits you."

I roll my eyes, turning back around, and start dancing again.

He stays close, his presence magnetic, almost intoxicating.

His hands find my hips, guiding my movements as he presses against me.

He whispers in my ear, sending a shivers down my spine. "You have no idea what you do to me."

I bite my lip, the heat between us undeniable, as we lose ourselves in the music and the night.

The tension between us is electric, humming beneath the rhythm of the pulsing music.

The sweet scent of his cologne mixed with the musk of sweat fills my nostrils, making me dizzy with desire.

"Spark," I whisper back, my voice shaky with unspoken need.

"Zoe," he breathes out like a prayer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, sending a jolt straight to my core.

His fingers trace patterns on the small of my back, igniting tiny fires that seem to spread throughout my entire body.

We sway in harmony, our bodies as one in this sea of people.

I tilt my head back to rest on his shoulder, allowing myself to feel the warmth of his chiseled body against me.

His strong fingers dig into my hips as we move in time with the hypnotic beat.

"And what am I doing to you?" I finally manage to ask, opening my eyes to glance at him over my shoulder.

"You drive me wild, woman. Fuck, follow me." Spark breathes into my ear, his voice sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core.

Without waiting for my response, he takes my hand and leads me off the dance floor.

My heart pounds in rhythm with the bass as we weave through the crowd, the world around us blurring into a haze of lights and music.

He pushes open the door to the bar's bathroom, pulling me inside before locking it behind us.

The sound of the latch clicking echoes in the small, dimly-lit space.

I barely have time to catch my breath before his lips crash against mine, firm and demanding.

"God," I gasp between kisses, my fingers tangling in his dark hair.

He tastes like whiskey and danger, intoxicating and addictive.

His hands roam my body, exploring every curve, igniting a fire that threatens to consume me.

"Mmm," he groans, his voice rough with need. "I could do this until the end of time."

I arch against him, feeling the hardness of his body pressing into mine.

His hands find the hem of my dress, hiking it up as his lips trail down my neck, leaving a burning path in their wake.

My back hits the cool tile wall, and I shiver at the contrast between the cold surface and the heat radiating from him.

I whisper, my voice trembling with anticipation. "Please,"

It feels like a prayer on my lips, a plea for more, for everything.

His grin is wicked, full of promise and peril.

He helps me tug his jeans down just enough, his cock springing free.

Hard and hot against my thigh.

My breath catches in my throat at the sheer intensity of the moment, the raw desire between us almost overwhelming.

"Turn around," he commands, his voice a low growl.

I obey, my hands bracing against the sink as I feel his fingers slide between my thighs, teasing me, testing my readiness.

The sensation sends a shockwave of pleasure through me, and I bite back a moan.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, positioning himself at my entrance. "So perfect."

"Please," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "Please, Spark. I need you now."

He thrusts into me, and I cry out, the sensation a mix of pleasure and pain.

He doesn't wait, doesn't hold back.

His movements are fast and hard, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy crashing over me.

The tiles are cold beneath my palms, but all I can focus on is him, the way he feels inside me, the way he makes me feel alive.

"Fuck," he gasps, his grip on my hips tightening. "You're... fuck, you're amazing. You're so god damned tight."

"Spark," I moan, pushing back against him, matching his rhythm.

The pressure builds inside me, coiling tighter and tighter until I can't hold back any longer.

With a final, desperate cry, I shatter, the orgasm ripping through me like a tidal wave.

"That's it," he growls, following me over the edge.

His body tenses, and I feel him release, the warmth spreading inside me.

We stand there for a moment, both of us breathing heavily, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

Slowly, he pulls out of me, and I turn to face him, our foreheads touching as we catch our breath.

"Spicy," he murmurs, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "You're something else."

"Yeah," I reply, still trying to steady my racing heart. "And so are you."

We share a lingering kiss, the intensity of the moment fading into something softer, more intimate.

As we straighten our clothes and prepare to rejoin the world outside, I can't help but wonder what this means for us, for whatever this is between us.

But for now, I'm content to live in the moment, to savor the taste of him on my lips and the memory of his touch on my skin.