by Sierra Hill
His specialist, Dr. Sun Kim-Lee, indicated that most fatalities with firefighters weren’t from the burns themselves but from internal injuries and trauma or cardiac arrest.
The doctor gave us hope that due to Cam’s size, his health and fitness, and the fact that the burns were contained to his back, side and a small portion of his torso, he’d be able to make a full recovery after undergoing skin grafting surgery, scheduled for today.
London and I were only allowed in Cam’s room for a few minutes after the first day while he was still heavily sedated and in a semi-conscious state. His eyes fluttered open once or twice as both London and I held his hands and whispered our prayers and thoughts into his ears, but otherwise, he was out of it.
Thankfully.
While London drove Doreen back to her London’s apartment to take a nap and shower, I remained behind to be available in the event there was any news. That’s when one of Cam’s crew members, Benito, stopped by with a gift basket and get-well card from the other crew members. I’d never met that man before but could tell he was worn and haggard from days of exhausting work.
From what he shared with me about the incident, I seriously hoped Cam would wake up with little or no memory of what happened. It was too brutal otherwise. Another one of his crew members named Dominic was found lying on top of Cam and died at the scene.
“How’s he doing?” Benito asks.
I shrug. “As good as can be expected, I guess. How long have you worked with Cam?”
The guy scratches his forehead in recollection. “I started with the Smoky Mountain team two years ago. He wasn’t my supervisor then, we were just crew members together.”
A wisp of a smile pulls at his lips. “Cam was always a ball-buster, man. He was one helluva guy.”
As if realizing what he said, he corrects himself.
“Aw, man. I mean, Cam’s a good guy and we’re all pulling for him to make a full recovery. He’s one of the best there is, and we need him back.” Benito shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s hard to understand why or how this even happened.”
I stand there alone with this stranger, feeling the exact same way. Trying to make heads or tails out of this tragedy and uncertain by how this could’ve happened.
“What did happen out there? Do you know anything?”
Benito runs a hand through his thick, dark hair, staring off into the distance.
“We usually work independently or in small groups of two or four. We had our morning briefing at base camp, got our gear ready, then our pilots flew us up and we parachuted in. It was a successful jump. Each team landed according to the scheduled coordinates and began our mission of surrounding the fire on all sides to extinguish and contain. The last we heard, Cam and Dom were on the west side and were cornered. It took us less than fifteen minutes to get to them, but by the time we did, we found them in their trench.”
Benito’s dark, empathetic eyes connect with mine and he swallows.
“When we got there, Dom’s body was atop Cam’s. He must’ve shielded him from the blaze. We don’t know why.”
My stomach clenches at the thought. “Jesus. Did Dom have a family?”
Growing up with a fucked-up father was one thing but I can’t imagine any kid going through this – knowing their father died protecting another man. In the line of duty. It’s the true act of service, but sad for a kid to lose a father like that.
Benito throws a look over his shoulder as someone walks by us in the corridor and then replies.
“Nah, Dom was a young kid. Twenty-two and single. But his parents…”
I place a hand on top of his shoulder and squeeze. “Please send me the details of his funeral. I’ll make sure that London and I attend on Cam’s behalf.”
Benito nods appreciatively. “You bet. Thanks man.”
He cocks his head then, mouth opening and recognition seemingly sparking in his eyes. “Holy shit. Wait, aren’t you the lead singer of Crenshaw?”
I lift an eyebrow and place a finger at my lips. “Shh. I’m trying to remain incognito and keep things quiet while we’re here. But yeah, I am. Sage Hendricks. Nice to meet you, Benito. And thanks so much for stopping by and checking in on Cam.”
Benito shakes my hand vigorously, a huge grin covering his mouth. “Ah man, my wife, Camilla will die when I tell her I met you. She loves your music, man. Wow, what a trip. Are you and Cam family?”
I can tell by the way he hesitated and enunciated the word that he assumes something entirely different. The world knows about my sexual tastes in relationships and I’ve never shied away from talking about my bisexual proclivities. But Cam identifies as a straight man, and I’m not going to be the one to out him in front of one of his coworkers. I don’t know or trust this guy.
“Cam and I go way back and grew up together. I love him like a brother.”
All truth. No lies hidden there, even if there’s more to the story than that. But it’s all this guy is gonna get.
I extract a black Sharpie from my back pocket and sign a Crenshaw photo card I always carry with me exactly for times like these.
“C-A-M-I-L-L-A? Is that how you spell your wife’s name?”
He nods enthusiastically, and I hand him the card for him to take home to his wife.
“Here you go. It was nice meeting you, man. And thanks for your service. You’re doing good stuff out there.”
Benito suddenly seems starstruck, stumbling over his words.
“Thanks man, I really appreciate this. I’ll send you the details once the funeral arrangements are made. Nice meeting you, Sage. And give my best to Cam.”
“Will do. Take care.”
I watch him walk off down the hallway, stopping to say something to the nurse at the station about the basket, and then I sit down, dropping my head back to rest against the wall. I suddenly feel like I haven’t slept in years. I’m so tired.
My thoughts float to Dom, a man I’ve never met, but who was a guardian angel to Cam. Without him, I would’ve lost my best friend once again.
And that’s one time too many times.
Fate has really fucked with my life once again.
But at least this time, I won’t have to go through the bad stuff alone. London is here with me and there is a good prognosis that Cam would recover and be practically good as new in a few months’ time.
And hopefully, we’d be able to pick up where things left off.
Chapter 8
Three Months Later
“Just leave me alone,” Cam bellows from the upstairs bedroom, his frustration evident in the way he shouts at London. There’s a thud against the wall and then something lands on the floor. From the sounds of it, Cam threw his ointment bottle in a tantrum huff.
That wouldn’t be the first time he’s acted like a stubborn two-year-old.
While Cam has always been the more stoic and reserved of the three of us, this ordeal and his recovery process has drawn on his last reserve of patience and brought out the worst in him. He’s ornery as fuck and the worst patient. Not that I blame him one bit.
I hear some faint whispering and then the soft click of the door latch, followed by London’s footsteps padding down the staircase.
Swiveling on the piano bench I’ve been perched on for the last thirty minutes, trying to come up with a stanza for a song I’m working on, I see London walk into the kitchen and set down her basket of medical supplies.
From across the hall, I can see the stress and despair in her body language as her head tips forward and her shoulders droop.
Cam has been staying here since he left the hospital after the successful skin graft surgery of his back and side. For the first month, he had a physical therapist and a nurse that I’d hired to come in daily to change his dressings, clean the surgical sites, and get him stretched out and moving so the scars would heal properly.
Unfortunately, one man can only take so much pain and agony. And now poor London has been making sure his back is staying moist by adding
the topical ointments and keeping it clean and free from infection where the skin begins to heal.
It hurts to know Cam is still struggling with the pain, and that he inadvertently and unintentionally takes it out on London. I suppose it’s human nature to take it out on the ones you love.
Walking into the kitchen, I come up behind London and begin to gently massage her shoulders. She moans in pure pleasure.
“Oh Sage, don’t stop doing that. Ever.”
I chuckle and lean in to kiss the curve of her neck. She smells heavenly, a soft fragrant perfume scenting her skin. Although she stayed here with Cam after he was discharged, while I returned to tour to make up the two weeks of shows I’d missed while he was in the hospital, she refuses to live here full-time. She stays over every weekend and tries to stop over a few nights a week, but she claims her apartment is easier because it’s closer to work.
My body and cock grow hard as I continue to touch her, wedging myself behind her, my full erection pressed into her ass. London’s head drops back to rest against my chest and she sighs.
I can’t help myself around her. London is the sexiest woman I know and my senses are flooded with arousal whenever she’s near. Like a beacon signaling to a sailor, she’s my light and my salvation.
“Are you okay, babe? Can I do something to make you feel better?” I murmur into her ear, nipping at her earlobe and trailing my fingers down her arm.
She stretches on tiptoes, her arms wrapping behind our bodies to clutch my ass, which she greedily squeezes.
“You know, maybe we can do something to help our patient relieve some of his own pain. What do you think, baby? Should we go see if he wants to join?”
London shifts her head to the side and I capture her smile with my kiss. She tastes of her vanilla latte and cream. My tongue spears between her lips hungrily, taking everything she has to offer.
Her moan has my head spinning and body shaking with pent up need, my cock thrusting against her ass crease. We’ve fucked a few times together while Cam has been convalescing, but it’s usually quick and rough to get our rocks off. And it hasn’t been with Cam.
And I miss him desperately.
He’s been angry and surly during his recovery, which I can completely understand. London and I have been patient and sympathetic, knowing it will take time. It’s not just the physical wounds he’s healing from, but also the emotional ones left behind. But tonight, we need to show him what he’s been missing. He needs to get back to his old self again. To remember what it’s like to feel good.
London swings around in my arms and kisses me soundly, her hands sliding through my hair, tugging hard, just the way I like it.
“Yes,” she says breathlessly. “Take me upstairs so we can make him whole again.”
Dr. Kim-Lee was very adamant about what he told us about recovery. He said that the psychological healing normally takes longer than the physical recovery time because of the emotional upheaval that caused the injuries in the first place. That, along with the body image issues that a burn victim will typically deal with and have to learn to face.
It’s obvious Cam is knee-deep in self-loathing over his looks, and hasn’t left his room once without a T-shirt covering his torso. Except for the times London or I have slathered the ointment and massage the tight, raised and rippled skin on his back, he refuses to let us see him naked or shirtless.
I reach for London’s hand and pull her behind me as we ascend the staircase and up to the door of Cam’s room.
Knocking quietly, I open the door to find Cam laying on his side with his back to the door.
“We brought you a present. Can we come in?”
Cam throws a quick look over his shoulder and sees the grins on our faces and lifts an eyebrow.
“A present, huh? I don’t think I deserve one.”
London and I walk around to the side of the bed and I glance around the room. It’s a bright, sunny Saturday afternoon yet his room is dark and bleak, the drapes closed tight on both floor-length windows. Dragging over a high-backed chair to the bedside, I order London to sit down as I open the window, allowing sunlight to waft in.
“What the fuck, bro? I like it dark.” Cam grumbles, shielding his eyes from the light cascading over his bed.
I smirk. “That’s too bad, because you’re gonna want to see what we have for you.”
“Whatever. Just make it quick.”
Rubbing my stubbled whiskers across my chin, I quirk an eyebrow.
“Mighty impatient there, Cam. But this is a gift I think you might be interested in savoring a bit. Don’t you agree, darlin’?” I turn my head and land my gaze on London, who’s sitting primly in the chair, her feet crossed at her ankles, her dainty hands in her lap.
The way the sun casts a glow over her hair, she looks like an angel. Ethereal and other-worldly.
“Baby, are you ready to give Cam our present?”
She nods her head excitedly, a touch of naughtiness attached to her smile.
“London,” my voice lowers, deep and baritone. “Why don’t you show us your pussy.”
I don’t see it, but I hear it.
Cam’s sharp inhale of breath. I feel the temperature in the room change around us, the electricity zipping and crackling. The chemical reaction boiling and bubbling as it readies for an explosion.
Sitting down at the edge of the bed, my ass bumps up against Cam’s legs. While my gaze remains on London in front of me, I notice every little thing that happens within Cam’s body. The quick pants of air; the tightening of his thigh muscles; the darkening of his hooded gaze.
While he might try to deny it, he’s not unaffected by this.
Not at all.
My plan is to make sure he’s reminded of how good the three of us are together and how pleasure can overpower the senses and eliminate pain entirely.
And we know just how to do it.
Chapter 9
Present
“Go on, darlin’. Take off those little shorts of yours that have been making me hard all day and give us a peek at your sweet pussy. You want to see it, don’t you Cam?”
I’m taunting him to get a reaction.
He needs this more than any man I know. He needs to forget about what he’s been through – with his on-going divorce, the custody battle, the fire, his burns, the death of his friend – and just be in the present.
“Fuck you.” He seethes, but it only makes me smile knowingly.
“Ah, Cam. You know how much I’d love for you to fuck me,” I tease, tsking at him with a waggle of my finger in the air. “I’ve been dreaming about it for years. It was the only thing that kept me going in prison.”
I land my palm on his outstretched leg beside me and absently run my fingers through the wisps of hair. He stills under my exploration, and possibly from my honest admission. It’s rare for me to mention anything about my time in prison. When he doesn’t wiggle out from under my touch, I know he’s interested.
Progress.
London, meanwhile, begins to unbutton and unzip her shorts, lifting her ass to shimmy out of them and kicks them across the floor with a flick of her foot.
Her fingers slide into the top edge of her panties and I stop her there.
“Leave them on. Open your legs and show us.” My voice sounds hoarse and throaty as she tilts her head up to look at me, worrying her lip in that sexy way that turns me on.
Foreplay with these two has always been hot as fuck. There’s something inside me that finds its alpha voice when I become a dominant in the bedroom. It only serves to spike my blood hotter when I’m with Cam and London. It gets me hard as steel to know that just the tone of my voice and direction I give gets London wet and Cam hard.
London does as I instruct, spreading her long, tanned legs and dragging the lacy panel of her panties to expose her wet pussy.
“Like this?” she purrs seductively, knowing full well that’s exactly what I wanted.
My head snaps to Cam, enjoying the fi
rst signs of his arousal through the bulge clearly visible in his shorts. “Cam? What do you think? Is that good for you? Or would you like to see more?”
Cam practically chokes out his word. “More.”
I wink with a salacious smile at this game we invented years ago. Our cat-and-mouse chase. Our own version of a sexy Simon Says.
Turning back to London, I look her over from head to toe, narrowing back in on her naked center.
“Finger yourself. Let us watch.”
She quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t protest, simply complies with my command by sliding a long, tapered finger inside her beautiful pussy. As she does, she tips her head against the back of the chair and moans a delicious sound.
“That’s it, darlin’. Get yourself nice and wet.” My eyes drift back to Cam, whose own focus is clearly on London, the tip of his tongue curled up behind his front teeth and his eyes glazed with arousal.
“Cam, would you like our girl to show you how wet she is?”
His response is in the form of a guttural growl and a nod of his head. Now firmly invested in this sensual game, Cam sits up and throws his legs over the side of the bed, maneuvering himself to make room for London.
Her moan fills the room as she withdraws her finger from her juicy center and holds her finger up in the air in a triumphant display.
I shake my head and bark out a mocking response. “Now how is Cam supposed to know how wet you are when you’re way over there, darlin’? You need to present him with the evidence. He needs proof.”
As I watch London stand and walk toward Cam, I remove my clothing so that I’m left only in my briefs. My dick is a throbbing and tormented muscle, dying to be touched and played with. I rub a palm over my shaft to get some relief just as London offers her wet finger to Cam.
The tip of her finger disappears slowly inside Cam’s opened mouth and his lips close around it as he devours her flesh. They both moan simultaneously – he from her taste and her from the action of his suction. And I groan with the possibilities of how fucking hot this is about to get.