12-Alarm Cowboys

by Cora Seton

  Books lined the walls floor to ceiling, shelves even framing the windows. A large walnut desk dominated the center of the room. Deep leather sofas faced each other across a large leather ottoman.

  Without speaking a word, he stood her in front of the ottoman and went to work, opening her shirt, and then unclasping her bra.

  She liked his efficiency, so she let him strip her without lifting a finger to help.

  When he slid both garments off her shoulders, he moved them only to her elbows, leaving her arms trapped at the elbows. Ignoring her raised brows, he sat on the ottoman and opened her belt and then her jeans. He smoothed them down to mid-thigh, then gripped her ass in both hands and forced her closer.

  Hunching his shoulders, he lowered his head to kiss her mound. “I want this on my mouth, Carly,” he said, his voice roughening. “If you’re stripped of your jeans and boots, will you climb over me and sit on my face?”

  A laugh shook her. “Jeremiah!”

  He arched a brow. “Too crude?”

  “I suppose not, since thinking about doing that is making me really, really hot.” She wagged her shoulders. “I’d take off my clothes, but I can’t.”

  “Let me do it for you.”

  He bent and lifted each boot while she balanced on a single foot, teetering. Once, he had to grab for her hips to make sure she didn’t fall. But at last, he had off both boots and smoothed her jeans down her legs, helping her as she stepped out of her clothes. Then he moved, sliding around until he faced away, then slowly lowered to his back, his face just beneath the apex of her thighs. “Straddle me, baby. I want it on my mouth.”

  This time, she had no urge to laugh. Her need was too urgent. With her arms bound by her shirt, she climbed clumsily onto the stool and spread her knees.

  Jeremiah scooted toward her, then under her. His fingers parted her folds, and then his tongue stroked her, licking her from the bottom of her folds all the way to her clit.

  “Jesus,” she whispered.

  “Name’s Jeremiah,” he said, then grunted and licked her again.

  She gave a muffled laugh then groaned when he pushed his pointed tongue inside. She made a shallow dip, not wanting to lose his wonderful tongue, but she needed to move, needed to sway above him while he swirled inside her, the sensation so lush and decadent she let her head fall backward. She swayed, and then yelped as she fell backward, off the ottoman, landing on the plush Persian carpet.

  Chapter Six

  ‡

  Before she could pull in deep gulp of air, she saw Jeremiah jackknife upward then scramble to the floor. “Carly, are you okay? Fuck, I forgot you fainted this morning.” His hands roamed her body, searching for problems.

  Carly couldn’t help it. She laughed. She lay naked, her arms still caught in her shirt, her legs splayed, and all she could do was laugh.

  He sat back on his haunches, and the corners of his mouth twitched. “That didn’t work quite the way I thought it would.”

  “You mean you didn’t mean for me to break my arms?”

  His smile disappeared. “Let me get you free.” He reached for her, sat her on the carpet, and dragged her bra and shirt off her arms. Then he smoothed his hands over her arms as though to reassure himself she was unhurt.

  “All better,” she whispered. “But now, I’m completely naked and horny.”

  His grunt was followed by a sexy glance that trailed slowly down her body. “Since I’m responsible for your condition…”

  She climbed over his lap, spreading her thighs to straddle him. “Now, if you’d had just a little foresight, you’d be snug inside me now.”

  “Won’t take a minute,” he said, rubbing his cheek against hers.

  “A minute’s too long.” She held tight to his shoulders.

  Frowning, he opened his pants and raised just high enough he could shove them past his buttocks. Then he dug into his pocket and pulled out a condom. “If you don’t mind,” he said, his voice tight, his hands already tearing the plastic.

  Glad he didn’t want to wait while she did the honors, she said, “Not at all.”

  When he was cloaked, he ground his cock against her, riding her slit.

  She dragged her hips forward and back, wetting him and warming herself. She made another glide, and he clamped his hands on her buttocks and lifted her.

  His cock slid through her folds to her entrance, and he shoved her slowly down until he was seated deep inside. “Better?”

  Carly drew a thin breath. “So much better,” she whispered. “I love the way you feel inside me.”

  “I love the feel of your insides.”

  She laughed and wrinkled her nose. “You really need to work on the sweet talk.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t even try,” he growled. “Don’t they say, actions speak louder than words?”

  “They do,” she said, nodding solemnly. “So…act.”

  He cupped her cheek and the back of her neck and kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth.

  The taste was of her body. She sucked on it and groaned, grinding down on his cock, because she needed more than great kisses. She needed him to move. Her inner muscles tightened all around him.

  On a guttural moan, he broke the kiss. “That feels…amazing.”

  Concentrating, she did it again, liking the way his face hardened and his fingers bit into the flesh of her bottom. Again…

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “You’re not letting me take this slow, are you?”

  She snickered. “Cowboy, slow is overrated.”

  With a single move, he held her body close and leaned over, forcing her to lie on the carpet.

  She let her legs fall open at either side of his hips, surrendering everything. “Ride me, Jeremiah. Make me burn.”

  His jaw clamped tight, and his nostrils flared a moment before he braced his weight on both hands and lowered like he was doing a pushup. Then his hips began thrusting—long, steady drives, over and over, filling her, leaving her, filling her again.

  Her breaths deepened, and her eyelids dipped. She watched him through narrow slits, aiming downward through the small space between their bodies as his cock disappeared again and again. She loved the way they looked together—him fucking her, his hips dipping and angling to stroke her inner walls just right. She raised her legs higher. “I love fucking you.”

  He snorted. “I’m the one doing all the work.”

  “Do you mind that I’m lazy?”

  He shook his head and gave a distracted grin. “No, I like being in control. You’re so hot and tight…fuck…” He pummeled her pussy faster. “Shouldn’t talk. You wreck my concentration.”

  Her breaths came out in gasps. “Why do you need to think?”

  “Don’t. Just want to make this last longer.”

  And she understood. Or at least, she understood what it meant from her point of view. She didn’t want this day to end. She loved the way he was with her—gentle, like she was fragile, when he could think; rough, like now, when the pleasure blew away his caution.

  He leaned on one hand and slipped the other beneath her ass, cupping her to raise her as he pounded harder.

  Aiding him, she curved her body, giving him the angle he sought as he sank deeper. “I can feel you all the way inside me, stretching me,” she whispered, scratching his chest with her nails.

  “Not gonna last much longer,” he ground out, then abruptly pulled free.

  “Bastard,” she groaned and let her head fall against the floor.

  He gripped her by the waist and turned her over, then snaked an arm beneath her belly and pulled her up until she rested on her hands and knees.

  Carly tossed back her hair and glanced behind her, watching as he placed himself at her entrance again, gripped her hips, and drove forward. Intense pleasure rippled inside. She whipped around and dropped her head, whimpering as he moved forcefully inside her—so deep, so fast, the friction building inside made her burn.

  He reached around her and
thumbed her clit as he bucked against her.

  She braced herself, pushing back hard to keep from moving across the carpet. She’d have rug burns on her knees, but she didn’t care. The sounds he produced, so dirty and wet as he hammered into her pussy, were slick and percussive, their rhythm matching her escalating heartbeats. “I’m close, ’miah, close!”

  And then she arched and flung back her head as a hot wave consumed her, sizzling outward from her core. Her walls convulsed, rippling along the sides of his cock, squeezing, squeezing…

  “Oh God,” she cried, then crumpled to her elbows, trying to catch her breath, but each hard stroke forced out her air in harsh gusts until she was sobbing. She stretched out her arms and let his motions scrape her nipples against the carpet, the abrasion adding another layer of pleasure.

  At last, he rocked deep, jerking hard against her ass, and then holding still as he made sounds so tight and guttural, she smiled.

  He bent over her, curving an arm against her belly and took them both down, spooned together. His fingers pulled at strands of hair sticking to her face, and then he kissed her cheek.

  She rested her head on the bulge of his arm and snuggled closer, tightening her inner muscles to trap him inside and closing her thighs to make double sure he stayed right there.

  Jeremiah smoothed a hand over her hip and thigh, and then moved it upward to cup her breast. His breaths were loud, his chest pushing against her back as he still fought for air.

  She wasn’t in any better shape. And she was sleepy. Placing her hand over the one massaging her breast, she waited a few more moments, enjoying the way they felt—joined, equally strained. “I liked that,” she whispered, then shook her head. Her words were a weak reflection of her true feelings.

  From behind, he sighed and pulled free.

  She heard the slick sounds of him removing the condom, but couldn’t guess what he’d done with it.

  “Come here,” he said, moving away from her back.

  She turned and saw that he was sitting with his back against the ottoman.

  “Come,” he repeated, curling his fingers.

  With a lazy crawl, she moved over him, once again straddling him. His cock was losing strength and size, but she liked pushing against it anyway as she spread herself and settled against his chest.

  “We need to talk.”

  She stiffened, and began to lean away.

  But he shook his head. “No.” He bracketed her face and brought her closer, pressing a kiss against her mouth. “You trust me enough to fuck you, but you won’t hold a real conversation with me? Really, Carly? Is talking more intimate?”

  Tired, she didn’t even try to school her features into a careless mask. “I’m wetting your cock. How much more intimate can we get?”

  He rubbed her lower lip, and she realized she was pouting. Childish. Stupid. Why was she trying to hide from him? “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.” He let out a deep breath. “But let’s start with the fire. What happened out there today?”

  Her gaze veered from his. “I remembered the fire in the campgrounds. How I started it. How helpless I was to stop it. And then, all of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe.”

  A fingertip dug into the soft underside of her chin and turned her. His gaze had softened. “You don’t have to go out with the team tomorrow. I’ll talk to Blake and have him keep you with the folks refilling the sprayers or providing refreshment to the firefighters.”

  Disappointed in herself, she couldn’t stop her lower lip from trembling. “You don’t have to protect me.”

  He smoothed a thumb over her lip. “What if I want to, Carly? What if I’d like to do more?”

  Hearing the soft tone of his voice made Carly’s eyes begin to sting. She blinked to clear the moisture welling there. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start to depend on him for strength. “I don’t need more than this,” she said, indicating between their bodies. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a very long time now.”

  “What if I want to take care of you?” he said softly. “What if I need to take care of you?” Jeremiah rested his hands on her hips.

  Did he know his thumbs were soothing her? Where was the surly hard-ass whose sharp gaze had flayed her? This Jeremiah was so tender he made her heart hurt. He wanted to take care of her, keep her safe and unafraid. “But I don’t deserve it,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “Oh baby, come here.” He pulled her tight against his chest.

  She tried hard not to cry, but his kindness was killing her. Her breaths came out in ragged gulps she couldn’t control.

  Still, being in his arms was heaven, lying against his chest as he shushed her. Being comforted was so foreign, the gesture was another form of seduction. She couldn’t resist snuggling closer to fit her face into the corner of his neck. She breathed deep, taking in his lovely scent—clean and masculine. His skin was warm. “You’re spoiling me,” she murmured.

  “Let me.”

  “All right,” she whispered. Then because she didn’t know his full intentions and was half-afraid she was assuming too much, she kept silent, living in the moment as he held her. For the first time ever, she understood the feeling of belonging.

  Monday morning, Jeremiah waited as the bulldozer finished its final pass, having bladed the hard earth beneath the escarpment. Above him, at the top of the steep cliff, lay his ranch. He’d been given the job of maintaining the fireguard at the north end of the canyon, because Blake knew he had the most to lose.

  Already, fires had been set south of their location. His team’s job was to clear a wide break at the foot of the cliffs so that no embers drifted out of the canyon to set fire to the fields along the rim.

  With the soil turned, everyone worked with rakes to remove any grass or sticks that could continue to fuel a fire across the break. When they were through clearing the firebreak, they turned their attention to the area in front of them.

  Blake needed them to set a back fire and burn the brush—again stealing fuel from the larger fire marching their way.

  Jeremiah checked his handheld wind meter. Wind speed was an optimal eight miles an hour. And the direction hadn’t changed. The wind came from the south, which aided the volunteers moving the fire his way, then turned back at the cliff.

  Everything was a go. Already, white smoke was visible in the distance although pines and brush hindered his view of the others’ progress. He already had the okay from Blake to set the blaze when he was comfortable with existing conditions.

  He glanced around at his crew, at Carly who was still raking at clods of earth and brush. He wondered how she was holding up, whether she was nervous. She’d been insistent she was ready, that her head was in the right place to allow her participation. And because he knew this was important to her, he held back his objections. He’d keep close. Make sure she was safe.

  He went to the ATV behind the fireguard and pulled out his drip can. “Ready, everyone?”

  He received waves and smiles.

  Carly gave him a nod and took a deep breath.

  Jeremiah began to walk the line, squirting fuel for a few feet, then lit a match and dropped it. Immediately, the fuel ignited. He continued to drop fuel, leading the flames down the fireguard boundary. Behind him, his crew used their rakes to add fuel. The wind pushed the smoke and flames south.

  Satisfied the backfire was going well, he dripped fuel down one side of their boundary setting a flank fire, while Tater dragged flame down the opposite side.

  Soon the blaze was set, and he returned the can to his vehicle. He unclipped his radio. “Blake, the backfire’s lit.”

  Then the time arrived for the real work. With an eye constantly tracking the smoke in the distance, he shouted orders to keep the backfire moving south. Once the brush in front of them burned, volunteers used both shovels and sprayers before they crossed the charred dirt.

  The morning stretched into the afternoon as the crew made their way forward. The closer t
hey drew to the larger fire heading their way, the thicker grew the smoke. He pulled his bandana over his nose and walked the line, checking on the volunteers to make sure they wore their goggles, that they kept hydrated, and took breaks when they needed to.

  He came to Carly, and she struck her shovel into the dirt and leaned on the handle.

  Jeremiah pulled up the bandana hanging around her neck and set it over her nose. “Are you doing okay?”

  She nodded then jerked a thumb behind her, indicating Tater who’d insisted on working close by. “My watchdog’s making sure I do my job.”

  Jeremiah grunted. “You could shadow me.”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s kind of fun,” she said, her eyes smiling. “Told him I was feeling itchy, that the fire wasn’t big enough.”

  “Don’t borrow trouble.” He shook his head then leaned close. “I’ll want that ass in one piece tonight.”

  She laughed. “I’ll be fine. If the smoke gets too thick, I’ll retreat. If the fire moves too fast, I’ll hit the river.”

  He nodded, glad she’d paid attention to the safety briefing. “I’d kiss you, but that’d only give Tater more ammo.”

  “Later,” she said, her voice pitched low.

  A quick, casual “love you,” was on the tip of his tongue, but he held back the words. Just barely. The ease with which his mind thought the declaration shocked him. He’d dated his ex-wife for months before he’d said the words, and even then, they still hadn’t felt quite right.

  He left her, his mind whirling, and walked back down the line. A gust of wind sent smoke curling around him, and he grabbed his meter from his back pocket. Twenty miles per hour.

  The radio squawked. “Wind’s picking up,” Blake’s voice boomed, and he sounded disgusted.

  “Do we bail?”

  “Not sure if it will last, but you might want to go ahead and have your crew lay down water. We’ll start on this end, too.”

  Jeremiah ran to the west end of the firebreak. “Wind’s rising. Lay down water. Put out that fire.”