Forbidden Heat (Firework Girls #1)

by J. L. White

  “Pretty sweet ride,” I say, tugging my skirt down a bit. I’m wearing a little black number which, when I’m sitting, shows off nearly my entire thigh. I’m excited to go somewhere special with him, so I pulled out all the stops today. I’m already being rewarded with the way he’s eyeing me hungrily.

  “It was a gift,” he says distractedly, still checking out my legs. He throws the car into reverse and backs up.

  I vaguely wonder who gave it to him, but don’t ask because I’m too busy admiring how scrumptious he looks. He’s wearing a black suit and tie with a blue silk shirt. I want to rip it right off him.

  “Why aren’t we going somewhere with a bed again?” I ask innocently.

  He gives me a seductive glance and gets us on the road.

  I behave myself for the entire first half hour of the drive. An epic feat considering the fact that just sitting next to him is driving me crazy. He’s not even doing anything over there except talking to me and looking all fucking delicious.

  I’m hopeless. I know. I can’t help it.

  We’re on a stretch of road that winds down the mountains on the way to the coast. Green trees line both sides and the late afternoon sun winks in on us as we go in and out of the shadows.

  He’s telling me about a trip his family once took driving up the coast, and I’m trying to listen. I really am. But, as if my body has a mind all its own, I slowly reach down and pinch the fabric of my dress between my fingers.

  “Alvin kept complaining the whole way,” Shane is saying as I start to hitch my skirt up, inch by inch, “but Loren and I just ignored him and...” his eyes glance down at my lap and I smile. “...and...”

  I pull my skirt up to reveal my purple lace panties. My purple lace see-through panties.

  Shane swerves to get back in his lane.

  Both hands gripping the wheel and eyes on the road he says, “Damn, honey. We’re going to get in an accident if you keep that up.”

  “Well then, you’d better pull over.”

  He eyes me to see if I’m serious.

  I smile and raise my eyebrows.

  He almost looks alarmed now and I have to laugh. I’m still aching for him though, so I spread my legs slightly and slowly reach over toward his cock.

  “Uh...” he says, glancing between my crotch and the road. “Uh...”

  My hand hits its target and I smile. “I see you’re ready for me,” I say.

  “Isabella,” he says, “we’re driving sweetheart.”

  “There’s a rest stop a mile up the road. I saw a sign.” I firmly rub my hand down his hard shaft. He’s wearing suit pants, and I’m glad I’m not having to work against the thick fabric of jeans.

  He gets that look on his face. That look that says he wants more.

  “We have... reservations,” he says unconvincingly.

  I undo his button with one hand and work the zipper down. He springs free on his own. I smile. “Then we’d better hurry.”

  He laughs shakily. “Honey, there’s no room in this car to—”

  But I’ve dodged under the shoulder strap of my seat belt and dipped my head in the direction of his cock. I’ve never done anything like this, but pushing the limits is all I seem to do with Shane.

  “Eyes on the road, baby,” I say, then take his head into my mouth, sucking on it. He moans and his foot lets off the accelerator.

  He takes me by the shoulder and firmly lifts me up. “At the rest stop,” he says thickly. “I’m gonna wreck this thing.”

  I smile, feeling a little intoxicated with him and more than a little pleased with myself, but mostly I’m horny as hell and desperate for release.

  After what feels like an hour, we go the remaining half mile to the rest stop and he pulls off the road. I raise my hips slightly and slip my panties off.

  “Damn, girl,” he says, driving into the rest area. There’s a long stretch of parking with an outbuilding in the center, picnic tables all along the length of it, and a slight view to the coast and Swan Pointe below.

  He chooses the farthest spot and before he even kills the engine, I’ve released my belt, scooted onto my knees, and bent down for his cock again. He groans, his hand flying to the back of my head. He leans the seat all the way back, but it’s a sporty car and even then there’s not room for me to climb on top.

  It doesn’t matter. If this is going to work, I need to stay low and out of sight anyway. Right now I just want his cock, and I’m sucking it like there’s no tomorrow.

  “Isabella,” he breathes out. “You’re so fucking amazing.” I would smile if my mouth wasn’t full of his cock. I’ve noticed he’s not one to talk dirty during our sexual escapades, so hearing this little bit from him gives me a special thrill.

  His hand has already found my breasts, giving them an eager squeeze or two, and is on its way to my crotch.

  I spread my knees slightly and his hand finds my mound. I moan with his cock in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the tip then go all the way down the shaft, sucking firmly as I come back up.

  He dips his finger into my wetness then goes to my clit, his slick fingers lighting me up.

  I put one foot on the floor, allowing my legs to spread wider and he accepts the invitation, plunging two fingers into me.

  “Yes,” I mumble, before sliding my mouth back down his shaft. I come back up. “Fuck yes.” And I take him again.

  He’s so hard my tongue can feel the vein throbbing along his length. He pumps his fingers in me, the sound of my moisture and his groaning filling the car. He puts a third finger in me and I arch my ass back against him, spreading myself as much as I can in the cramped space and wishing I could open up more.

  I take his entire shaft into my mouth and suck hard as I come up, flicking my tongue firmly over the head. I get a taste of pre-cum and that only pushes me closer to the edge. I’m rocking my pussy against him, rubbing my clit against the palm of his hand.

  He suddenly starts pumping me harder, banging his palm hard against my clit every time he dives into me. I cry out with pleasure, his swollen dick still in my mouth.

  Moaning, I slide up and down his shaft harder and faster, working the head with my tongue, going nearly mad with pleasure as he fucks my pussy with his hand.

  The skin of his cock stretches taut. He releases his hot cum in me just as I burst into a mind-blowing orgasm. My channel clamps against his fingers. My swollen clit submits to his pounding. I’m sucking his pulsing cock and swallowing eagerly as he cries out, stifling the loud sound almost immediately.

  I thrash against the climax as he continues to clap his palm against me. His cock twitches in my mouth and I suck hard, wanting every last drop. I finally come down from the peak, my body slowing. His cock twitches again and I slowly suck him from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip. He grips my shoulder with his free hand, shuddering one last time.

  I’m breathing hard and my blood is pounding in my ears as I continue to come down from the high.

  My god.

  We grow still, panting, my mouth still on him, his fingers still filling me. I give him one last, lingering suck and hear him sigh as I break free. I rest my cheek on his lower stomach and smile. He gives me a heavy-lidded, satisfied smile as he gently pulls his fingers out of me.

  “That was fun,” I say, panting.

  “Uh, yeah,” he says, agreeing with the obvious.

  I grin at him.

  “Oh geez!” He pops his head up and looks around.

  I start laughing and rearrange so I can settle back into my seat. I glance around too. The rest stop is vacant.

  He gives me a devilish grin. “Come ’ere, you.” He leans to me, hooks his hand around the back of my neck, and kisses me until my toes are tingling.

  We start to put ourselves back together. “I love this dress you’re wearing, baby.”

  I smile broadly, pretty pleased with myself. “Now that we’ve had our appetizers, shall we go have some dinner?”

  He smiles at me wickedly.


  After taking a few minutes to clean up in the restrooms, we continue on our way. This time, Shane’s passenger is considerably more relaxed and content.

  Dinner with Shane is even better than I hoped it would be. Aside from enjoying his company—in fact, I can’t seem to get enough of that—I love being out in the open with him. It’s liberating and thrilling and gives me a little ache in the corner of my heart that we can’t have this all the time.

  Suddenly I’m imagining what it would be like to be able to walk hand in hand with him on campus or go to a party with him or, hell, just do anything with him. Even shopping for groceries together sounds like a treat.

  Shane got us a table next to the window with a view of the ocean. The Net is located right on the coast. Its outdoor patio even sits slightly over the water. We watched the sunset as we ate, and now the sky has darkened completely, leaving the window to reflect the interior of the restaurant back at us.

  The waiter comes to clear our plates away—I had coconut shrimp, Shane had lobster—and asks if we’d like to see a dessert menu.

  Shane looks to me for guidance and I answer with an eager grin. He laughs. “That’d be a yes,” he says to the waiter.

  He leans forward and rests his chin on one palm, smiling at me. I lean forward too, delicately lacing my fingers together. “This was a great idea,” I say. “I love being here with you.”

  His smile broadens. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

  “Aren’t you happy?” I tease, still smiling.

  “More than I should be,” he says.

  The waiter returns with the menus and we sit back.

  Shane winks at me, then opens his menu. I stay put, watching him. “I already know I either want the baked Hawaiian or the triple chocolate caramel brownie sundae.”

  His eyebrows shoot up.

  “Want to order both and share them?”

  “Okay.”

  He snaps the menu shut and returns to smiling at me. I sigh inwardly. We’re almost at the end of our evening. I don’t want it to end.

  It’s as we’re eating dessert (we’ve polished off the baked Hawaiian and are on our way to finishing the world’s most decadent brownie) that he says, “So let me ask you a question. As a modern woman, what’s your opinion on the debate about whether or not you can be a feminist and still allow a man to pay for a date?”

  My antenna goes up immediately, but I go into my smooth and graceful routine without thinking or effort. “I don’t know that I have an opinion on the matter,” I say easily. I even throw in a smile for good measure.

  We could be talking about lollipops, as calm and collected as I am on the outside, but my skin is pricking and I’m feeling that familiar, sick sensation in the pit of my stomach. Is this how it’s going to begin? Now that he knows how deep my pockets are, he wants to dip in and take some and this is his first step?

  But I’m looking at him and I don’t want to believe he would. Would he? Sometimes you never know, but... god I really didn’t think he was the type.

  “I was reading an article about it the other day,” he continues. “I forget the website. Anyway, it was interesting. One side argues that it’s perfectly acceptable for women to demand both equal rights and chivalry, but others say that in order to truly be equal, chivalry needs to go out the window. They say a man always paying suggests a level of superiority over the woman.”

  “That makes a certain kind of sense,” I say. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Not him.

  “What’s your opinion?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “Is that how you feel?”

  “Well...” I begin slowly, “if a woman feels she needs to pay for... philosophical reasons.”

  He smiles. “Ah. Philosophical reasons. Was that for my benefit?”

  I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or if we’ve just decided I’m paying for this date or what.

  The waiter brings the check. We both reach for it; he’s faster. But I know this game and I want it over sooner rather than later.

  “How about I get this one?” I say, smiling.

  I’m testing him. I’ll admit it.

  Still holding the folder, he pulls out his wallet. “Yeah. I don’t think so.”

  There’s always a first refusal. I press on. “It’s the least I can do, after all the cooking you’ve done for me.”

  I reach for the folder but he pulls it out of my reach.

  Going for broke, I give him that ostentatious smile of the rich that I hate so much. “I can afford it, you know.”

  He slides his credit card out of his wallet and into the folder and, though still smiling, furrows his brow at me. “What’s that got to do with it? Look, if other people want to do things that way, that’s fine by me. But I’m an old fashioned guy. I’m paying.”

  The waiter comes by and Shane quickly hands him the check, as if worried I’ll snatch it out of his hands.

  “Besides,” he says. “I’m the one who invited you.”

  My heart’s still pounding. I don’t know what to think.

  He leans forward, taking my hand in his. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asks.

  “Mind?”

  “You don’t think it’s an insult if I pay?”

  I let out a little laugh, examining him openly now. “You were worried I’d be insulted if you paid?”

  “Well, I wasn’t until you started going after the check like that.”

  I give him an uncertain smile. “I guess I’m old fashioned too, but... I thought you were trying to say you wanted me to pay.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  I blink at him. “Because of the whole feminist conversation.”

  “Sweetheart, I was just talking about an article I read. Besides, I’m a philosophy professor. ‘What if’ discussions are practically part of the job description.”

  He squeezes my hand gently and I can’t help but squeeze a little back.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, observing my disconcerted expression. “I didn’t think it would upset you.”

  “What if I’d invited you? Would you let me pay then?”

  “Hell, no.” He smiles. “That doesn’t make me a chauvinistic brute, does it?”

  “Of course not,” I say, smiling faintly.

  I feel myself believing him, but there’s one last thing nagging at me. If I were smart, I wouldn’t ask him about it. I’d wait and watch for more opportunities to test him. I know how sneaky people can be. But instead, I come right out with it.

  “But... what about the fact that this restaurant’s so pricey?” I ask.

  He furrows his brow at me. “I can afford it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have suggested it.”

  “No. I mean... when we were talking about where to go, you said this place was perfect because it’s pricey. Why did that matter?”

  There’s a pause as he scrutinizes me, then he gets this dawning expression. “Wait. Did you think...”

  He stops, still holding my hand, and rubs his forehead with the other.

  He takes a deep breath and looks at me again, leaning closer and holding my eyes with his. “It mattered,” he says gently, “because I think we’re less likely to be seen together in a place most students can’t afford.”

  Oh. Right. That does make sense.

  “Most professors can’t afford it either, for that matter,” he continues. “I just thought it’d be an extra layer of protection. We’re an hour and a half from school, it’s the middle of the week, and, yeah, it’s pricey. If I’m going to be brazen enough to be out in public looking at you with big doey eyes, I think every little bit helps.”

  I have to laugh at that. “I’m sorry,” I say, but he holds up a finger to indicate he’s not done.

  “Listen, there’s... something I may as well tell you about me right now. I come from a family with a decent amount of money. Not like yours, I’m sure. Nothing near it. But we do alright. In fact...”

  He looks down at our interlocked hands, frowning. He runs his thumb over the back of my
hand, then shrugs. He looks back up at me. “They didn’t exactly approve of my choice of profession. They consider it a step down. You know, financially. So...” he takes a deep breath and smiles, clearly ready to lighten the mood. “If you’re worried about me trying to dip into the Maddox family fortune, don’t. I’ve been on the receiving end of that and I know how it feels. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

  “No, I...” I don’t know what to say. I just feel so relieved.

  The waiter comes back with the check and the card. Shane kisses my hand, gives me a wink, and proceeds to sign the ticket and tuck his card back into his wallet.

  “Thank you for dinner,” I say.

  He gets to his feet and holds out his hand, bringing me to a stand. “My pleasure,” he says and pulls me next to him.

  Then right in front of anyone who cares to look, Shane Brooks cups his hand around my jaw, and kisses me.

  Chapter 15

  After my big biochemistry project comes back with a low B, and Shane admits he’s fallen behind on his work as well, we resolve to do better.

  A month later, we’ve settled into a semi-sustainable routine. I sneak over to his house almost every night and work on homework while he grades papers or works on his doctorate coursework. We’ve even allowed time back in for regular exercise, often driving to the trails and hiking on the weekends or swimming laps at the pool late at night.

  That’s not to say we don’t still get distracted by each other. I keep thinking my hunger for him will wane, but it hasn’t. I quietly went on the pill and let him know when he could forgo the condoms. I’ve never had so much sex in my life, but yet I yearn for him when we’re apart and I drink deeply from the well when we’re together.

  Occasionally I get behind enough that I have to stay home and get caught up there. He runs into trouble sometimes too. Lately I’ve been teasing him because I still don’t have a grade from him on a paper I turned in a week ago.