Scorchin' (The Hot Boys Series Book 2)

by Olivia Rush

  Then I scolded myself again for getting sidetracked by just how freaking good-looking he was. I was expecting a good-looking man—I had seen him on TV earlier, of course—but as soon as I caught sight of him in the flesh, I knew getting my job done was going to take all of my professional skill.

  But, evidently, it wasn’t enough.

  I hopped on the L back into the city and was soon back at my office. Once there, however, I found that I couldn’t think about anything else other than Stone and how I’d totally blown it trying to get the information from him.

  “Well?” asked Meg, ducking into my little cubicle and leaning forward in eager anticipation once she’d taken a seat.

  “Well what?” I asked, letting my glumness get the better of me.

  “What do you mean ‘well what’?” she asked. “You went out that door on the way to Brooklyn looking like a woman on a mission. And now you, uh, look like it didn’t go so well.”

  “That’s because it went horribly,” I said. “I ended up meeting with that fireman from TV and—”

  Meg’s eyes went wide, and she grabbed my wrist so hard I worried for a second that she just might snap my hand off.

  “Are you serious?” she asked. “You met the gorgeous fireman? Oh my god, I need some details right freaking now!”

  But before I could say a word, Danvers strolled through the cubicles, doing one of his rounds to make sure we were all staying on task.

  “All right, all,” he said. “Unless you’re talking about your next stories, get to work.”

  “Happy hour,” said Meg. “No argument. Got it?”

  “Sure,” I said, not feeling too thrilled about the idea of putting my failure out there for the world to see.

  The rest of the day dragged by as I sifted through what public information I could find on the fires. But everything I found was stuff everyone already knew: that authorities weren’t sure if the fires were connected, that they all seemed to happen early in the morning or very late at night, and that no one so far had been hurt or injured other than a janitor who twisted his ankle trying to run to the elevator.

  Not exactly the most thrilling stuff. I needed to get some insider access—I needed Stone.

  The workday came to a close, and Meg was all too eager to drag me down with a couple of other girls to Rye & Turner, the cocktail bar on the lowest level of our building. Once there, the idea of clouding my head with booze did sound pretty nice. So, our drinks ordered, the girls and I gathered around one of our usual tables and started chopping it up right away.

  “He knew right away what you were up to?” asked Meg, the other girls listening in with eager expressions on their faces. “How did he figure it out?”

  “I feel so stupid saying this, but I think I was a little intimidated.”

  “The great Callie Sullivan, intimidated?” asked Mary, one of the girls. “What, did he pull out a gun or something?”

  “I bet that’s not what you were hoping he’d pull out,” said Meg, a sly smirk on her lips.

  “Oh god,” I said, waving my hand through the air. “Don’t even start on that.”

  “You know what,” she said. “I bet a girl like you could get a guy to give up whatever information you wanted if you, um, knew the right way to ask.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re saying what I think you’re saying,” I said, covering my eyes.

  “What?” asked Meg. “I mean, there are worse things you can do for a story.”

  Piper, the last of the four girls, chimed in.

  “I mean, it worked for me.”

  I raised my eyebrows and turned my attention to Piper.

  “You know that story I ran about the lymphoma awareness charity? Well, my contact for the story ended up being some totally hot guy with more money than he even knew what to do with. He was a little stingy with his information on some upcoming events, so, well, I did what I could to convince him.”

  “Oh my god!” shouted Meg in between laughs. “You have to be kidding. You spread your legs for a scoop?”

  “Hey, it got the job done. Or, um, I did, to be specific. And besides, we ended up dating for, like, three weeks so I don’t feel too bad about it.”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” I said, shaking my head then taking a long sip of my drink. “And not to mention the professional risk. Can you believe how much trouble you’d get into if you got busted sleeping with a source?”

  “Come on, Callie,” said Piper. “Just because you’ve pretty much sworn off dating doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t have any fun.”

  “I haven’t sworn off dating,” I said.

  “Right,” said Meg, “you just pretty much stopped dating altogether. Big difference.”

  “I’ve just been focused on my career, is all,” I said. “When you’re trying to move up in a competitive field like journalism, you can’t really take time out for something like dating.”

  “Cal,” said Meg. “I know that sounds good to you when you say it, but you can’t really believe it’s true, can you? You’re really happy being single?”

  “Believe it or not,” I said, “I’m really happy being single. Having a job I love is more than enough.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with Bryce, does it?”

  I gritted my teeth out of instinct at the name. Bryce was the guy who’d burned me in high school, the one I couldn’t seem to move past.

  “That was in high school, Cal,” she said. “You can’t still be hung up on that guy.”

  “I’m not hung up,” I shot back. “Just being extra cautious.”

  Meg flashed me one last skeptical look before she changed the conversation. I went through my first drink, then another, and before I knew it, I was pretty damn tipsy for a Thursday night.

  “OK, girls,” I said. “It’s been wild as ever, but I need to get some ‘me time’ in before I take another crack at this story tomorrow.”

  The girls wished me goodbye, and I was off. Meg’s words bounced around in my head as I stepped into the chilly autumn air. Was she right? Was I really happy being single? I considered the answer as I walked to the subway station, the booze in my head, and decided the answer was “yes.”

  And not just a half-hearted, kinda-sorta “yes,” but an enthusiastic one. After all, I was on the way up at the Weekly. My stories were attracting new readership, and Danvers had even told me that he’d heard my name here and there in editorial circles. Maybe a new man would be something to consider once I’d really made waves at my job—I was thinking in ten years or so. But for now, I was happy right where I was.

  At least, I was pretty sure I was.

  After a bumpy ride back to Williamsburg on the L, I arrived home to my very, very tiny, but cozy, studio and got myself ready to unwind for the night. I lit some candles, put on some chill music, and drew myself a hot bath.

  By the time I slid into the tub, the booze had faded just enough that I felt tipsy enough to relax but not so much that I was feeling sloppy. The water was perfect, the music was just right, and soft, sweet scents filled the air.

  But right at the moment I was about to slip into a state of total, mellow bliss, the face of none other than Stone Black appeared in my mind, that cocky little smirk and all. My body tensed at just the thought of him, and I felt a scowl form on my features as I looked back on how he seemed to get weird, sick pleasure from leaving me out in the cold.

  As soon as he settled in my mind, I knew that any chance of relaxing was over. I splashed my hand down in the water, frustrated. Part of me wanted to go into the kitchen, dripping wet, and pop open another bottle of wine. Only the thought of dealing with a morning hangover at the office dissuaded me from this.

  I did some deep breathing exercises as I lay in the tub, trying to calm myself down.

  Then, I opened my left eye a bit and spotted the shower head hanging down by my feet at the far end of the tub, which gave me an idea of how I could really relax.

  I smiled and
reached down for the shower head, my breasts sticking up out of the water as I did. It occurred to me that this had to be why I’d been so tense, why just being around an admittedly insanely hot guy like Stone had been enough to get me to lose my cool—it was because I hadn’t gotten off in god knows how long.

  Shower head in hand, I clicked it to my preferred setting and lowered it slowly into the water. Once it was down beneath the suds, I opened my legs slightly, just enough to be able to aim the powerful jets of water right…where…they…needed…to…go…

  I closed my eyes and let myself drift off into a sweet fantasy.

  When I opened my mind’s eye I was lying on a bed of purple satin sheets, the rest of the room dreamy and hazy around me. I looked down to see that I was wearing nothing but a cream-colored silk robe, as fair and smooth as my skin and opened enough to expose just about every bit of my body.

  At the opposite side of the room was a tall door, hand-carved and intricate. I had a sense that someone was about to come through, someone who was going to give me exactly what it was that I craved. But just who it was going to be, I couldn’t say.

  Then the door began to open, and an excited little smile formed on my lips as I waited for my guest.

  And lo and freaking behold, guess who stepped through the door—Stone Black. My first instinct was to do something, anything to get this asshole out of my fantasy. But seeing him standing there in his skintight fireman’s T-shirt, his dark blue jeans hinting at something very nice and stiff, I couldn’t resist. After all, it was his attitude I hated, not his body. And here in my mind’s eye, he could be any man I wanted him to be.

  “Good to see you, Miss Sullivan,” he said, crossing his arms over his stout, muscular chest and taking a long, lingering look at my body. “I was hoping we’d run into each other again before too long.”

  “And run into each we indeed have, Mr. Stone,” I said, my legs writhing together in anticipation.

  “You know,” he said, his voice a sensual purr. “I was thinking you and I got off on the wrong foot earlier today. What do you say we make proper acquaintances?”

  “Hmm,” I said, shifting my legs from one side to the other, my pussy getting wetter by the second, “I’d have to see what you had in mind.”

  His red, full lips pulled up slightly on one side.

  “How about I show, rather than tell.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  With that, he reached down to his waist, grabbed his T-shirt by the hem, and pulled it over his head. What he had underneath was certainly a feast for the eyes. Stone was big, built, and shredded. The man was like a damn brick wall of pure muscle, his shoulders spanning wide and his chest like two huge, square slabs of marble. His stomach was cut down to the muscle, each individual ab muscle visible in perfect clarity.

  Once the shirt was gone, he tossed it to the side and moved toward me. When he was at the foot of the bed, he dropped to his knees, slipped his arms under my thighs, and with an effortless pull, brought me toward him.

  “Goddamn,” he said, his eyes locked onto my pussy. “All I could think about when we were talking was what you tasted like.”

  “Why don’t you go ahead and find out,” I said. “I insist.”

  He flashed me one more of those gorgeous smiles before moving in. Stone started with gentle kisses along my smooth legs, traveling up along my inner thighs and to my now-soaking lips. I shivered with delight as he kissed me, wanting him to hurry and get to it but also wanting him to take his sweet, sweet time.

  Stone raised his hand up and brought it to my cunt, spreading me open and slipping a pair of fingers inside of me. I was so damn wet by this point that he was able to enter me without effort, like liquid. Stone moved his fingers in and out of me, the pleasure building by the second.

  Then he moved his mouth right over my pussy and began licking me. He did it softly and slowly at first, as though he were doing it for his own pleasure as much as mine. His tongue dragged slowly along my inner lips, darting up just enough that he flicked my clit with the tip of his tongue, sending shocks of delight up and down my spine.

  “Oh fuck,” I moaned, reaching down and slipping my hands into Stone’s ink-dark hair.

  I pressed his head firmly, imploring him without words to pick up the pace, to lick me harder and faster. And that’s just what he did. Stone switched from teasing flicks with his tongue tip to long, slow drags of his tongue’s flat surface over my pussy, paying special attention to my clit. He continued his fingerplay as he licked me, stimulating my G-spot in such a way that made orgasm a certainty.

  I exploded with pleasure, my body tightening and loosening as I squeezed his head hard with my thighs. By the time the orgasm passed, however, I was only hungrier for more.

  And so was fantasy-Stone.

  He raised himself up from my pussy and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away my glistening cum. Stone began kissing me again, moving his mouth over the flat plane of my stomach, then to my breasts, then to my nipples. By the time he was on top of me, I was ready to be filled.

  Casting my eyes downward, I spotted a massive tenting at his crotch, and I just had to get my hands on what lay underneath. I reached down, undoing his belt buckle and zipper as Stone kicked off his heavy boots and socks. Soon he was as naked as could be, his long, thick prick hanging down hard as a rock and pointing directly at my cunt. I took hold of the massive cock, wrapping my fingers around it and enjoying the warm firmness of it in my hand.

  After a few strokes, I was ready for it to be in me. Stone reached down, took himself by his base, and entered me slowly.

  The feeling of his prick moving into me was like nothing I’d ever experienced. As Stone shoved himself into me inch by inch, I found myself biting down so hard on my lower lip that I worried I might draw blood.

  I acclimated to the feeling very, very quickly, my cunt taking tight hold of all of the contours and curves of his cock. God, he felt good. Stone propped himself up on his arms, his muscles going taut and tight as he supported his weight. Once he was in position, he began driving himself deep into me over and over again, pounding me hard and filling me just how I wanted.

  Soon I was a writhing, screaming mess underneath him, my breasts bouncing wildly each time he split me in two. The first orgasm was powerful, but I knew that this next one was going to be something else.

  Stone was in total control, his huge body like a mountain over me. He drove into me, again and again, burying himself to the hilt each time.

  When the orgasm hit, it was like a force of nature. My muscles tightened at first then released, the pleasure blasting through my body like the eruption of a geyser—superheated and irresistible. Stone continued to fuck me as I came, timing his own orgasm so that he came deep inside of me at the peak of my pleasure. His face tightened, he grunted hard, and the huge explosion of my orgasm was followed by his, a small eruption of ecstasy inside me.

  Stone collapsed at my side when he was done, both of us recovering our breath. And as he pulled me close, I noticed once again the patch of burned skin on his forearm, the same one I’d noticed earlier in the day. It’d followed him into the fantasy world, like a reminder to me that he wasn’t just some figment of my imagination, but someone real.

  I came to in the tub, the candles nearly burned down and the water warm, wondering just what the hell it all meant. The last ripples of the orgasm drifting through my body, the booze still lingering, I did my best to sort out the strange feelings that ran through me.

  4

  STONE

  “So, Stone,” said Mike McDonnell, one of my fellow firemen. “That hot little thing you were talking to yesterday…?”

  He let the question hang in the air, an expectant look on his face. I waved my hand through the air, dismissing Callie as a conversation topic.

  “You mean that total pain in my ass?” I said. “What about her?”

  Joel, one of the other firemen, grabbed a soda from the fridge where we sat
in the station cafeteria, cracked it open, and plopped into a chair across from me.

  “Come on,” said Joel. “You can’t tell me that you weren’t having to use every bit of restraint to keep your hands off her.”

  Sure, I was a man with two working eyes—I’d noticed just how hot she was. And sure, I couldn’t get her out of my head since we’d met, as much as I’d wanted to. That didn’t mean I wasn’t still pissed at the girl for trying to wring information out of me. Not to mention lying about why she’d come here.

  “She might’ve been kind of cute, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t your standard little lying reporter.”

  Mike scoffed.

  “Are you seriously gonna tell me that you sat down with the sexiest thing to walk into this place since, ah, well, Chief’s wife, and didn’t give her the ol’ Stone Avalanche?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “You’re seriously still calling it that?” I asked. “Come on, I haven’t been trying to pick up anyone for months. Let it die.”

  Joel was a little new to the station and hadn’t yet acclimated himself to all of our inside jokes.

  “What’s this?” he asked, his eyes flicking from me to Mike.

  “The ‘Stone Avalanche’ is what me and the boys called it whenever this guy here decided to give a girl the full treatment. He lays on the charm so thick that there wasn’t a thing the chick could do about it. The man could cast spells over pussy like a damn wizard. The Stone Avalanche has gotten about every girl in Brooklyn into bed with him at one fuckin’ time or another.”

  “So,” said Joel. “That mean you’re gonna hit that reporter?”

  He was clearly eager to hear a “yes.”

  “No way,” I said. “The player shit got old, real fast. I should’ve learned my lesson in high school and college—sleeping around leaves you feeling shittier after than you did before.”

  Disappointment pulled Joel’s features down to the floor.