Another FILF: (Fireman I'd Like to F**k) (Hotshots Book 2)

by Savannah May

  “You didn’t have any trouble screwing around before,” she accuses.

  “Babe, we’re going around in circles. And there. Is. No. Time. We can sort out the accusations later. I’m not kidding.”

  “I’m not either, Shawn. Listen, it isn’t your fault. I’m a mess, and I have been ever since Jon died. I guess I wouldn’t choose to, now, but this morning I would have been happy to stay right here and accept whatever fate brought me. I don’t want to be responsible for your death, and I can’t be responsible for Mr. Pete’s, not if I can help it. So, you need to go and let me do what I must. I’ll be okay.”

  She can’t be serious. But I can see she is. Less than a minute ago, she was on the verge of passing out. Doesn’t she understand that? I step in front of her, take her by the upper arms and grasp her. She tilts her head up and I see all the pain inside her welling in her beautiful soulful eyes. Yeah, soulful. I’m no artist but I can recognize it in her.

  “You aren’t thinking clearly, Lila,” I tell her, trying to be forceful but just wanting to hold her and make her feel better. She’s been in agony far too long. “You’re suffering from hypoxia, and staying here is only going to make it worse.”

  I’m making assumptions because frankly, she’s been exhibiting confusion, anxiety and disorientation since the moment I clapped eyes on her. Still, I need to ensure her safety. No more stupid mistakes.

  “We don’t have time to find Mr. Pete. I’m sorry.”

  She starts to say something and I’m expecting the usual stubborn backlash, but then her eyes roll up. I catch her just before she falls and throw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s lift. There’s oxygen in the truck. She needs it now. I have to try not to notice the pressure of her perfect tits shelved on my shoulder. I turn around and run blindly toward where I think the truck’s parked.

  As soon as I reach the tree line, I know I’ve overshot the damn mark. Where the fuck is it? I whirl again and search for the truck, the house, any solid marker to give me a bearing. There! A shadowy block a few feet to my right. I could have run smack into it. I stagger under her weight, but it’s because I’m beginning to suffer from hypoxia, too. We’re going to die right here if I don’t get it together.

  I muster my strength and move across the land like a blind man. With my hand outstretched, I reach the back of the truck and feel my way toward the passenger-side door. I stumble into something against the side of the vehicle and we both almost go tumbling down. What the fuck? A tree branch? No clue? I kick the article out of my path.

  Thank God I left the truck unlocked because I don’t know in which pocket I shoved my keys and only one hand is free. The other is barely holding Lila on my shoulder. She’s motionless now and I fucking pray she isn’t passed out. Because I would never, ever, forgive myself.

  I heave her into the seat and lean over her, grabbing the oxygen mask from its hook and jamming it over my nose and mouth, then twisting the tank’s valve to open it all the way. Put on your own oxygen before you try to help someone else. I want to help her first but the training is ingrained, repeated over and over in countless fire crew meetings and on every flight of every commercial airliner in the country.

  As soon as a couple of deep breaths clear my head, I pull off the mask and place it over Lila’s soft face, securing it with the strap.

  After making sure she’s secure in the seat, I run around the front of the truck and slam into the driver’s seat. Smoke fills the cab. I twist to find my oxygen mask and the valve on the second tank. I turn it halfway and then reach to adjust Lila’s flow. Inside the truck, there’s less smoke than outside, but it’s beginning to seep through around the window seals. We can’t get out of here fast enough.

  The trouble is, I can’t see the road. I literally can’t see the road immediately in front of the truck. I need Lila’s familiarity with the route before I go off half-cocked and maybe run us into a tree.

  “Lila,” I say. She doesn’t answer. “Lila, sweetheart, come on, wake up.”

  I lean over the console and put my arms around her. I’ve never wanted a woman to wake up as badly as I want her to, right now. I can’t kiss her with the oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth, but I want to. I want to badly enough that I remove my own. The best I can do is nuzzle her neck under her ear.

  The aroma of her skin sends shards of white and colored light straight to my brain, jolting me awake. I inhale her gain and the sense memory makes me dizzy. Or is it the lack of oxygen? I put my mask back on and draw down hard on some brain-defuzzing oxygen.

  I pick up Lila’s small hand in my bear paw and hold it. A wash of - I don’t know what it is honestly. It’s more than my usual caring for the victims of fire though. Something more intense, that hits me deep in my gut. I push that shit aside because really I should be furious with her. If she’d only co-operated from the beginning, she and I, even the fucking dog, would be safe in town by now.

  The rumble of thunder nearby rattles the truck’s windows, and Lila flinches. She’s coming around. A few more seconds pass before a tremendous crack rocks us. The flash is blinding, and it’s followed by louder thunder less than three seconds later. I know that the strike was no more than half a mile away. I peer out the front window, hoping against hope that the rain will begin any moment and clear the visibility. But it doesn’t.

  “Shawn?” Lila whimpers at my side.

  “Hey, sweetheart!” I blurt, before I can stop myself. “Welcome back.”

  She’s staring at me with a slight frown, her eyes midway between the striking green of normal and the brown of furious. They look like a cat’s eyes, with pupils so wide I could dive in, oxygen tank and all.

  “What’s happening?” she whispers.

  “We’re waiting for rain, or for you to wake up. Looks like you win,” I quip.

  “Why?” she asks.

  “I can’t see the road. I need a navigator or for the rain to knock this smoke down.”

  “Oh.”

  She still seems a little disoriented, but at least she knows my name. That means she’s in the here and now.Not living in the past, I hope.

  “Shawn?”

  “Yeah babe?”

  “Did we…?” She frowns again, battling to remember something.

  “What Babe?”

  Her eyes snap up at me accusingly, as I use that term on her.

  “Oh, my God, this is sooo embarrassing. Did we-?” She trails off again.

  “Did we have sex?”

  I don’t want to piss her off, so I manage to temper the cruder word I would have used. Those eyes gaze at me pleadingly. What does she want me to say?

  “Yeah, I’m afraid we did.”

  “Afraid?” She frowns.

  Women - I’ll never understand them.

  “Was it bad?” she snaps.

  “Fuck, no!” I can’t help myself for that one. And I’m grinning, no doubt cockily, she’d say but It was so not bad.

  I lean over and cup her face with my dirty hand.

  “It was perfect and amazing,” I husk then add, again unable to stop myself blurting out shit it seems: “Like you.”

  “Why are we wearing oxygen masks?” she asks.

  Fucking unbelievable. Has she totally forgotten the last half-hour?

  “Where’s Mr. Pete?” The goofy smile on my face dies. She sees the change in my expression, and her eyes go wide. “Oh, my God!” She starts fumbling with the door handle.

  “Wait, Lila! You can’t get out. The oxygen you’re wearing is keeping you alive!”

  “I have to find him, Shawn. Please! I cannot leave him to die all alone.”

  “He’s already gone, honey.” I soften my voice as much as I can. “I’m so sorry. But we aren’t going to make it either, if you don’t pull yourself together. I need you to help me with any curves or twists in the road. Visibility is about at the front bumper, and that’s it.”

  She starts crying. At first, it’s just a slow trickle of tears running down her sooty face, lea
ving a heartbreaking track over those soft cheeks that used to be all rosy. Soon, though, her nose is red and great, gulping sobs envelop her. I lean across the console to comfort her, but our masks are in the way. I don’t want her to take hers off for even a second, and it’s getting bad enough I don’t take mine off, either.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Every minute we’re here is a minute less we have to live. It’s going to be okay now, I promise.”

  7

  Lila

  I’m stunned by the complete mess I’ve made of my life. The realization comes to me right at the point where it looks like there may not be time to fix it. I can’t seem to stop crying, even as I try to think clearly.

  I tug on the door lock but Shawn won’t let me out of the truck. That means when my cabin burns, I’ll have nothing left of Jon except the ring now on my right finger. My precious pup, Mr. Pete, was Jon’s last gift to me before our fight and the fire. Now he too is lost somewhere, with no one to protect him because of my selfishness.

  It hurts more than when the pup was delivered to me, nearly six months after Jon’s death. He had purchased a puppy prior to its birth, but it died before it was weaned. So the surprise arrived unexpectedly from the next litter. Having that reminder of his thoughtfulness so long after he was gone was a stab to my heart. The loss is worse because now I love the pup for himself and his kooky character. Not just because Jon gave him to me.

  “Just let me out,” I wail although I know it’s hopeless. “Please.”

  “Sorry, Babe. No can do. I know you’re hurting but it’s more than my life’s worth to leave you behind in this.”

  And to top it all, I’ve apparently fallen for a bastard who broke into my house, saw me naked before he even knew my name and had sex with me. In my studio, which is a tribute to Jon. Fucking unbelievable.

  Now he probably thinks I’m crying because we did it, and I am, sort of. Because it was better than it ever was with Jon. I feel like a traitor. At the same time, I feel like I can move on, now. Jon would want me to be happy instead of pining for him for the rest of my life.

  My thoughts circle back. The rest of my life won’t be very long if I don’t pull myself together. Shawn just said that. How long have I been crying and wasting time?

  “Okay,” I say, my voice wobbling like a drunkard. I clear my throat, try to shake it all off. “My driveway is about the length of a football field. I can’t see which way your truck is pointed. If you drove in and didn’t go all the way around the circle in front, then you have to do that now.”

  Shawn is looking at me curiously. At least I think so. Something about his eyes… yeah, the little pucker that would be a frown if it were any deeper.

  “What?” I say.

  “Have you decided to live?” he asks.

  “What kind of question is that?” I snap. “Come on let’s move. I thought we’re in a hurry.”

  He starts the truck, pulls forward a few feet, then stops. “Shit. I can’t remember if I’m pointed in or out.”

  My mind flashes to the sex in the studio. I start to giggle, try hard to suppress it, and end up choking and coughing. I rip the oxygen mask off.

  “Put that back on!” he orders.

  “It’s okay. I can breathe, and I feel fine.”

  He shakes his head, mutters something about ‘fucking stubborn woman’, and takes his own mask off.

  “Good,” he says, “because I’ve been fucking dying to do this.”

  He swoops over the console and grabs my face with both hands, lands a hard kiss on my mouth, which is open in surprise, and sweeps his tongue in. Suddenly I’m breathless again, and not from smoke.

  The kiss is the most intense of my life. Perhaps we’ll put that down to the near death environment. Isn’t there something about survivor mentality? Where you can fall in love, or lust, while sharing a life-threatening situation. Shawn plunders my mouth, thrusting into me as hard as he did when he had me pinned on my studio table.

  Once he has be panting, he sits back in his seat, cocky grin back on his face, and grips the wheel.

  “Come on, baby, you’re a magic charm, which way do I go?”

  I think for a minute. I was at the truck earlier. It was pointed down the driveway toward the road. I suddenly remember there are a couple of paintings stacked against the side. I’m about to reach for the door again and then change my mind.

  Let it go.

  Maybe it’s time for a fresh start.

  “Go straight,” I tell him, clarity hitting me. “And when you come to the road, you’ll feel the change through the tires, turn right.”

  He gives the truck gas, and starts down the driveway, going very slowly. I guess he’s being cautious to avoid hitting something, since visibility is nonexistent.

  “Right is downhill, right?”

  I sort out the meaning of his words. “Yeah.”

  “That way may be blocked by smoke too thick to get through. Where does left go?”

  “Further up, then around and down the other side.”

  “Maybe we should go that way,” he says, almost to himself.

  “There’s nothing that way for miles,” I object.

  “Except fresh air. The fire’s on this side of the mountain.”

  He has a good point. We can’t have traveled more than fifty feet at this speed, and I start to feel anxious. “Can’t we go any faster?”

  He puts his foot on the brake and comes to a full stop. He turns to look at me with his mouth half open and his head tilted, an expression of confused frustration on his handsome features.

  “Now you want to hurry?” he snarks. “Lady, you’re the one who refused to come with me in the first place. Fuck.”

  I shrink in my seat. He’s right. I’ve put us in danger. I’ve killed my dog. I start to cry again.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” He snaps. “Stop crying, would you? I need your eyes, and your help.”

  I take a deep breath and let it out in a shuddering sigh.

  “Okay. I’m sorry.”

  I gaze at his profile. God, he’s beautiful, even with the soot stains. I stare at his lips, wishing we weren’t running for our lives. I could go for another kiss like the last one.

  He glances at me and does a double-take.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks.

  When I don’t answer, he starts grinning again.

  “What are you grinning about?” I counter.

  “Honestly? I’m grinning because if we don’t make it out of here, at least I had sex today.”

  “Bastard,” I say. But I’m grinning too. It comes out like a cute nickname.

  “Come on, you liked it,” he says, smiling even more broadly.

  “It was okay,” I say with a non-committal shrug I doubt would fool anyone.

  I’m lying. It was the best sex ever and that’s saying a lot for a quickie. I find myself wishing we could do it again, but taking our time. Right now would be a very bad idea, right?

  “We’re going to make it out, aren’t we?”

  I leave out the part about if we do I’m going to reward him as soon as possible.

  “Sure. But I want to talk more about your lackluster opinion of my skill in the sack,” he says.

  “We weren’t in the sack,” I point out. This conversation is bordering on ridiculous, but it’s taking my mind off my regrets and our situation. Maybe that’s his intention. He’s smarter than I had him pegged for. “But if you get me out, I’ll give you another chance to prove your skill.”

  His mouth drops, and he slams on the brakes. Damn, I wish I hadn’t said it. We’re never going to get to the road if he keeps stopping.

  “Seriously?” he asks.

  “Sure, why not?” I’m trying to seem nonchalant about it, but he sees through me and starts grinning again.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” he promises.

  My eyes sting from the smoke, and my throat is raw, but my nipples tingle with anticipation. It occurs to me that I can ward off my f
ear by taking the banter even further.

  “So, how skillful are you, really?” I purr. “Tell me what you’d do if you had all the time in the world.” I let my voice drop into a sultry tone.”

  His lips twitch as he suppresses the grin. I wish he wouldn’t. I like it, like his confidence and even his bossiness. It gives me something to push back against, and the challenge excites me.

  “First, I’ll get real comfortable on my bed... “

  “Your bed?” I question.

  “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

  Shit, now I’m thinking about the first time again. How my cabin is about to disappear forever. I push the grief away. Fresh start.

  “Go on.”

  “So, I’ll get real comfortable on my bed. I’ll be naked, of course, spread out in front of you like a Christmas cookie party.”

  I giggle despite myself.

  “What do you know about Christmas cookie parties?”

  “Only that firemen get thrown them a lot,” he smirks.

  Yeah? That’ll have to change.

  “And you’ll be feasting your eyes on what I have for you,” he quips.

  “What do you have?”

  “Get real, baby. I know you haven’t blacked out what I have.”

  He waits for me to speak again, but I’m visualizing it. And he’s right, I haven’t forgotten a single inch. That massive cock, the purple head slamming into me. I’m a little breathless when I say it.

  “Your cock. I’ll be feasting my eyes on your cock.”

  I’m staring at his lap, now, but the thick Nomex hides whatever’s going on there.

  “So, you’re feasting your eyes on my cock, and I tell you to strip, slowly.”

  The grin is back. And I’m getting seriously wet.

  “Okay, I peel off my tank top. Now what?”

  “Take it all off.”

  “I’m unzipping my jeans, slowly. I push them off my hips and step out of them.”

  “Panties, too.”

  “I’m not wearing any. You tore them off me in the studio, remember?”

  “Damn, woman! I’m trying to drive, here.”