by Dizzy Hooper
Jaquan's promise of having plans for me still sits heavily in my chest. I'm hopeful, but not necessarily expecting anything. I may have been thinking about it in my bunk all night, but that doesn't mean he even remembers it.
Just when I'm about to give up and head out, Corey comes through. He smiles at me big and wide, then looks around. There's nobody in the locker room with us. He comes over to me, seeking permission with his eyes. I give it to him, my face heating.
He wraps his arms around me, and I want to melt into him. Jesus, he feels good—all warm and solid. He leans back and tips my head up, then dips down to take my lips.
"Jaquan said you're doing something with him and Sal today?"
So he didn't forget.
"Yeah, I think so."
"Text me tomorrow if you're free?"
Can this really be so easy?
I'm tempted to ask if he just wants to save time and join me at Sal and Jaquan's place, but that's a fantasy I might do well to keep to myself…for now.
I nod instead, accepting another kiss before he lets me go. He packs up his bag as if nothing extraordinary happened between us, when inside, my foundation is rocking to its core.
Outside the locker room, we run into none other than Sal and Jaquan. A warm smile spreads across Sal's face. "I was starting to think you'd left without us."
The glint to Jaquan's eyes is positively filthy.
"Not a chance," I manage, throat tight, pussy buzzing with anticipation. I glance to Corey, but he still seems unfazed.
And that's the only reason I spy Walker standing at the end of the hallway, back toward the common area. He's watching us with this depth to his gaze, this…
Longing?
My hearth throbs, banging painfully against my chest.
No. He didn't act like he was envious or anything back when I was talking to him at the beginning of my shift. He made it clear that my business was my business, and he didn't have a problem with whatever interpersonal relationships I wanted to engage in, so long as they don't interfere with the job.
And yeah, we have chemistry. He seems to see into me. But he hasn't asked a damn thing of me, hasn't even begun to imply that he might want it.
Have I been missing the signs?
Jaquan nudges my shoulder. "Hey, Heidi. You ready?"
At Jaquan's prodding, I snap out of my haze. Walker's gaze darts to mine. He catches me catching him, and his Adam's apple jumps. But he doesn't try to hide or pretend he wasn't staring. He raises his chin, and there's an aching vulnerability to that. He smiles tightly.
Jaquan pokes me again, then he follows my gaze. He gives Walker a sloppy, silly salute. "Hey, LT. Have a good one."
"You, too," Walker calls back, and yeah, it's subtle, but his tone is definitely colored by something he's not saying. He waves at us, and I keep glancing back at him, even as I follow Jaquan and Sal into the bright morning light.
As I follow them back to their bed.
Walking through the front door of their apartment, it's hard to believe it's been less than a week since the last time I got naked with them. So much feels like it's changed.
Jaquan crowds me up against the wall and kisses me deep and sultry, and I give myself over to him with everything I have.
But I can't stop thinking about how Corey kissed me, so softly, with such reverence. Jaquan cups my breasts and rubs his hard-on against me through our clothes and I taste the bitterness on Street's breath as he berated me for letting myself get involved.
Sal taps Jaquan's shoulder and edges him out of the way, seizing my mouth and ravaging it, and Walker's longing pulls at my chest with a force that actually hurts.
My head spins as I let Sal and Jaquan each have their turns kissing me and touching my skin. Pleasure overwhelms me, and it's a welcome respite from the strings that feel like they're pulling me in every possible direction.
"Hey," Jaquan rumbles, deep and low in my ear, his breath wet, his chest broad against mine. "Hey, we got you." His reassurance wraps around me just as certainly as his arms do, like he can feel me coming apart at the seams. "We got you."
And heaven help me, but I believe him.
I fall into him, opening for him even more deeply.
Deft fingers start tugging at my clothing, and I arch into them, wanting that contact. The hot touch of skin on skin puts me back together.
And all the differences are still impossible to ignore. Jaquan kisses dirtier than Corey did; Sal is more commanding. Corey forced me to slow down, while these two men wind me up, spinning my desire out faster, but it's all so incredibly, achingly good.
That first, visceral connection I felt with Jaquan and Sal comes roaring back. My heart pounds, and I'm in that building with Jaquan again, lifting him out of the burning wreckage, helping him limp down the hall. Another beat, and Sal is thanking me, opening up to me, seeing me—and as something more than a new recruit. Recognizing me as a peer.
As someone who risked her life for one of our crew's.
The two of them strip me down until I'm utterly naked in their living room. I fumble for their clothing, and bless them, they help me. I run my hands over the dark ripples of Jaquan's chest, across the golden lines of Sal's, and my breasts tingle with need, my pussy drips.
"Come on," I murmur into Sal's mouth. "Please, I need, I want—"
"We know, baby." Sal pushes me to my knees right there on the entryway floor. Gratitude sweeps through me.
Yes, this is what I wanted. Clarity replaces the buzz of all the different demands, all the fears. I slide my mouth down Sal's naked hip, and then I'm right there, up close and personal with his enormous cock.
His eyes blaze. "Go on."
Gripping me by my hair, he guides me to take him into my mouth. The bitter taste of his pre-come bursts across my tongue, and I swallow down that slickness, licking at him as I work to open my throat. He doesn't press that far, though, pulling me off him just as I begin to gag.
"Nice and easy."
I close my eyes and let him take control. He bobs me up and down the length of him, fucking my open mouth. Spit runs down my chin, and I love it. The heat between my legs grows and grows, and I cling to Sal's hips, desperate for anything to ground me.
"Shh." Jaquan slots himself in behind me.
I groan around my mouthful as Jaquan's thick cock presses against the cheek of my ass. The sound only goes higher as he cups my breasts, pulling on my nipples until they're screaming—in the best possible way. I push back into him, even as I keep sucking Sal's cock.
Fireworks explode across my vision when Jaquan takes mercy and slips a hand between my thighs. He rubs at my clit, and more slickness coats my pussy. My empty passage aches to be filled.
With a gasp, I pull off of Sal's cock to look back over my shoulder at Jaquan. "Fuck me. Please, please—"
But Sal shushes me, yanking at my hair. He shoves his cock between my lips again, sliding deeper, pressing into my throat, and I can't breathe, I can't think, it's bliss.
And it only gets better when, despite Sal's correction, Jaquan leans back. He fits his fat cock to my opening, rubbing the thick head all over my pussy lips. When that hot flesh brushes my clit, a spike of pleasure flares through me.
He denies me, though, refusing to press inside, and I want to laugh.
Maybe these guys are more like Corey than I thought; maybe Corey is more like them.
Maybe they all know better what I need, sexually, than I do myself.
Time stretches like taffy as Sal relentlessly uses my mouth. I breathe when he lets me and I don't when he won't. After ages and ages, he gives a particularly savage yank at my hair, and his thick seed pulses over my tongue. I gag and swallow, and some leaks past my lips. He pulls free and sends another jet streaking over my cheek, and I must look like such a fucking mess, but I don't care. I feel amazing.
Something light and bright bubbles in my chest. What would Walker think if he could see this?
What would Corey think?
In that instant, with all my heart, I wish they could.
Sal takes a step back, releasing his hold on my hair. I drop to rest on my hands and knees there on the entryway floor, panting, my breasts aching as they swing beneath me.
"Beautiful," Sal rumbles, moving to kneel before me, and God, I feel it—I do.
I gaze up at him adoringly, his come dripping down my face. He strokes my cheek.
And in that instant, Jaquan presses his way inside.
I rock forward, unmoored by the steady insistence of his thrust. My body welcomes him in. The glide is slick, the fullness intense, but I can take it.
And take it I do. Jaquan sets up a steady rhythm, fucking me deep. I lean into Sal's hand on my face, my mouth hanging open. The taste of come coats my tongue as the cock in my cunt pounds into me. I'm alight with sensation, every nerve on fire as they take their turns with me.
But I don't feel cheap. I don't feel dispensable or like whore or a slut.
I feel like I'm theirs. Like I'm precious.
Like that light in Sal's black gaze is something more than lust. He's kneeling there in front of me, watching me get fucked, and all I see in him is a fondness so deep it could be something more, only it couldn't—it can't—
Unless it could…
"Heidi," Jaquan groans, squeezing my hip. His thrusts go jerky, jackhammering into the most sensitive places inside me, and pleasure flies up my spine. "Baby…"
He slams home, and for the first time in my freaking life, I don't even need any pressure on my clit. He hits my G-spot and fills me with a stream of hot come, and that's it. I go flying off the edge into a climax that sweeps me away, makes me feel like anything is possible.
And I know it isn't true. Things never work out for me. People always screw me over. They always leave.
But for one shining second, lost in pleasure, held by these two men, I dare to let myself believe…
30
I hear it told that a lot of kids look forward waking up on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day or whatever. In my house growing up we skipped all that stuff. If my parents even knew what day it was, maybe they'd take me to the dollar store to pick something out, but even that wasn't a guarantee.
They still woke me up one Christmas Eve—in a big way.
Even now, I have nightmares about it. In the dream, I'm exactly where I was that night, lying on the ratty mattress that was my bed, clutching the second-hand teddy bear, staring out the window at the twinkling lights in the house across the street from ours, when bam.
The explosion in the basement rocked the whole place's foundation, knocking me out of my bed and onto the floor. Teddy and I curled up together in the closet. People with guns had been in our home before, and the teachers at school had taught us what to do.
But I wasn't prepared for the seep of smoke, the black billowing clouds that slowly formed.
The flames.
And then the bright light of searchlights piercing the fog of choking smoke, the huge figure in bright yellow who opened up that closet door.
That's where the nightmare always turned into a dream. I never imagined being rescued—not in a million years.
And that's part of why I hate Duke fucking Hopkins even more than usual, this Christmas Eve, waking up in my bed alone, shaking from the inferno of my nightmare, heart hammering.
He's stolen even that little bit of hope and security from me.
Grabbing my pillow, I hold it to my chest the way I used to cling to my teddy bear. I burrow under the blankets, trying to calm my hammering pulse. I swear I can still smell my childhood bedroom going up in flames, that I can still see my small collection of books and toys turning to ash through the slats in a closet door.
I feel small.
I fucking hate feeling small.
I throw off the covers all at once and heave myself out of bed. Summoning the determination that's kept me going for a decade and a half, I stalk my way to my bathroom. I slam the door behind myself, then lock it for good measure. I meet my gaze in the mirror, and the dark circles under my eyes are deep enough to fall into.
So, yeah. Happy Christmas Eve to me.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I turn on the tap and wash my face, and that helps to clear my head a bit. The cloying taste of smoke on the back of my tongue recedes, though I know from experience that it's never going to fully go away—not today.
An ugly laugh escapes my lips as I press a towel to my eyes.
I went into firefighting to be the hero, not the victim. So what if my nightmares this time of year are full of flames and smoke? I confront them in real life all the time. I can handle them.
If I'm lucky, I'll get to face them in person today.
Jesus.
That's a shitty thing to say. I don't want anyone's house going up on Christmas Eve.
But my best shot of getting through the day is burying myself in work.
Most people hate C-shift for all the holidays we get stuck with, but I depend on them. Forty-eight hours on the duty roster is forty-eight hours I don't have to spend worrying about all the land mines waiting for me in the battle zone that is my brain.
Heaving out a sigh, I open the bathroom door and head back out. The sun is only barely beginning to creep over the horizon, painting the sky an inky blue-black. Way too early to head straight to the station, then.
Flicking on the lights, I make my way to my tiny kitchen to start my coffee maker going.
As the machine sputters, I stand there, my bare feet cold on the tile. I shift my weight between them and glance back at my empty bed.
I intentionally chose to stay here last night, alone. I have a lot of nightmares this time of year—today especially. I didn't want to inflict that on Corey or Sal or Jaquan.
I didn't want them to ask the questions they inevitably would if they walked in on me having a panic attack in their bathroom.
Fidgeting, I hug my ribs.
I'm ninety percent sure that was the right choice.
But at the same time…
What would it be like to have a warm bed to go back to? Strong, caring arms; maybe hot lips and a thick, hard cock, too—just ready for me to sink down onto it and fuck this sticky, angry, haunted feeling right out of me?
I shudder, but it's not just fear and the aftermath of the nightmare rocking me anymore. Arousal hums in the tight points of my nipples and in the slick, wanting place between my legs.
Funny how being horny can make me even more impatient to get to work already. I'm still hoping for a busy shift to keep my mind and body occupied, but there are other ways to kill time, now that I'm sleeping with three of the guys on my crew.
If the next two days are quiet, maybe Jaquan and Sal and I could find a chance to sneak in a quickie in the showers again.
Maybe Corey could even join us.
My cunt throbs painfully.
Unlikely, but yeah—that would definitely be something good to take my mind off the whole anniversary-of-a-childhood trauma thing.
At long last, the coffee maker finishes its cycle and I pour myself a cup. As I fire up my laptop, I consider trying my luck with my vibrator and some internet porn again, but then dismiss the idea. I've gotten myself off a couple of times since I started fucking three hot firefighters, and it's been fun, sure. But I'd rather wait.
So instead I scroll the news and watch some crap on YouTube and drink my coffee. Before I know it, the sky is pink and gold.
I check the time again, and it's early, but not too early.
The streets of this small town are never exactly busy, but they're positively deserted as I make my way to the station. Businesses are shuttered for the holiday. People are home, with their families, where they belong.
I'm where I belong, too.
It's only a slightly bitter admission to myself as I park outside the fire house. This is the life I chose, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Especially not when I walk in to find Walker seated
at the big table in the common area, his head bent over a training manual, his forehead scrunched up in concentration. The morning sun pours in on him, making his hair gleam gold.
At my approach, he looks up. His face melts into a soft, welcoming smile that I can feel behind my ribs.
"Morning," he says, voice gruff. Is that how he sounds straight of bed first thing in the morning? How he'd sound if I ever woke up in his bed?
I nod at him, my throat suddenly tight.
For a second, I stand there frozen, bathing in his light. Everything from his expression to the open seats around him looks like an invitation, and it's one I've turned down so many times before.
But the ghosts of my nightmare are still echoing in my ears.
He hasn't asked—at least not out loud. But I don't want to turn his offer of companionship down.
For once in my life, I don't want to be alone.
Heart pounding in my throat, I peel my feet off the floor.
From there, it's the easiest thing in the world to walk to the counter and grab a cup of coffee. Clutching the steaming mug close, I return to the table and gesture at an empty chair.
Walker beams.
So I sit down opposite him, and it's fine. The earth doesn't shake. The wounds from my past don't magically heal, and the memory of acrid smoke doesn't disappear from my lungs.
They both fade, though. I breathe easier.
Snagging a section of the paper, I act as if this is all completely normal, and Walker does, too. He bends his head back to his manual, and it's…nice. Simple.
Around us, the usual buzz of the firehouse continues, the old crew finishing up its duties while the new one is just beginning to arrive. But there's a comfortable, comforting silence surrounding me and Walker. One I don't dare disturb. It's too precious to me.
For once, I spend a Christmas Eve morning feeling almost at peace.
Too bad it doesn't last.
31
Forget a quick threesome-slash-foursome in the shower. The alarms go off for the first time at just after ten, and I swear to God they just don't stop. One family's tree goes up and takes an entire bookshelf with it. Another old lady burns her turkey. A kid tosses a brand new doll too close to an improperly insulated wood stove, and some poor middle aged guy has a freaking heart attack trying to get an appliance up the stairs by himself, and I hate it. I hate watching other people have their holidays ruined.