“Pinky…” I intercepted her hand before she could reach the bulge in my jeans. My breath came out in ragged puffs on the back of her neck.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” she dared me. “I was honest with you, and now I want you to be honest with me. Tell me you don’t want me.”
My dick is about to burn a hole in the front of my pants, I thought darkly. It’s obvious what I want...
“Tell me,” she demanded.
“Of course I fucking want you,” I growled into her ear. Then I plunged my hand down the front of her denim shorts. Her pussy was hot and wet and my fingers slid straight between her swollen lips.
She sucked a breath between her teeth and bucked her hips backwards, grinding her ass against my cock.
“Tell me you don’t want to fuck me,” she whispered as my fingers slipped around her mound, trying to find traction in the sticky mess of soaked denim and hot skin.
“You know I want to fuck you,” I grunted as I plunged a pair of fingers into her hole. Her hips bucked up and I felt her walls contract around my knuckles as her body flailed around on the nest of pillows.
I didn’t realize that she had gotten my pants unzipped until I felt her hand grip around the base of my shaft. Her fingers knew exactly what to do, and it wouldn’t take more than a few tugs for me to explode…
I dug my fingers deeper inside of her hole and hooked onto her walls, pressing into her soft spots. Her hand slipped up my dick and latched around the rim of my thick head. I grunted and she tightened her grip.
I shoved my arm deeper down the front of her denim shorts and dug into her clitrois with the heel of my hand.
“I want you too, Josh,” she murmured, nodding her head back as I circled the rim of her sopping wet hole. “I want all of you…your hands, your fingers, your cock, your mouth…”
“Then let me in, Pinky.”
I dragged my lips over her shoulder, leaving another trail of kisses as my fingers made a final plunge into her pussy. I felt her insides spasm and she gasped, then her head rolled back against my chest. Her hand squeezed onto my dick and she gave me a furious jerk. My balls clenched and I grunted as I shot beads of hot come over the small of her back.
Afterwards we looked at each other as we caught our breath, and we both realized what we had just done; something crazy, maybe even stupid.
But that didn’t stop us from doing it again...
CHAPTER FOURTEEN | VANESSA
Twenty Weeks
“Something is wrong,” I decided with a flat voice. “I can just feel it. Something is definitely wrong.”
Josh’s eyes immediately shot up from the copy of BabyTalk magazine that he had been flipping through absently. Within the span of a split second he chucked the magazine aside, jumped out of the vinyl chair that he had been occupying in the corner of the exam room, and darted to my side.
“You think that there is something wrong with the baby?” Josh hovered over the edge of the obstetric table as he scanned me up and down urgently. His gaze locked on the rounded bump of my stomach, which protruded slightly from under the starchy pink exam gown that I was wearing in place of my clothes.
“What are you feeling?” he asked urgently, placing a gentle hand on my stomach and guiding it towards my navel. The exam grown crinkled under the weight of his palm.
“I don’t mean like that,” I said quickly. “I mean…we’ve been waiting here for so long, that I feel like something must be wrong.”
“Oh,” Josh blew a relieved sigh through his lips, but he kept his palm planted protectively over my abdomen. “I’m sure everything is fine. The doctors are probably just busy seeing other patients. There were a lot of people in the waiting room when we checked in…”
He’s right, I reasoned with myself. There had been a lot of people waiting when we checked in…
We were at my OB-GYN’s office for my monthly exam, and this appointment was kind of a big deal for two reasons. Reason one: since I had reached the twenty-week benchmark, I was due for my mid-pregnancy ultrasound.
My doctor had performed an ultrasound earlier in my pregnancy but, frankly, the results had been kind of anticlimactic. The ultrasound technician had shoved a wand around my stomach and pointed excitedly at the monitor, but all I had seen was a staticky black blob that looked more like a distorted still shot from The Blair Witch Project than an actual human being. Still, I had kept the printout in my wallet, and I had found myself sneaking peeks at that little black blob more frequently than I liked to admit.
But now that I was about halfway through my pregnancy, that little blob should look more like a baby, at least according to the online forums and pregnancy books that I had read.
The second reason that this appointment was a big deal: this was the first time that Josh was accompanying me for an OB-GYN visit.
Josh had been adamant about tagging along for every doctor appointment, but I had always been just as adamant about going solo. There was a good reason for that, though, and it wasn’t because I was trying to shut Josh out.
The OB-GYN visits weren’t exactly teddy bears and baby-talk; they could be brutal. I had to get weighed…then I had to talk about my weight. I had to pee in a cup…then I had to talk about my bathroom habits. I had to get blood drawn and I had to answer the most cringeworthy questions about sex, mood, appetite, discharge, bodily functions. And on more than one occasion, I had even gotten a pelvic exam.
I had no problem putting on my big girl panties and dealing with all of that, but I wanted to deal with it alone. The thought of sharing that sort of harrowing experience with Josh horrified me.
Still, Josh had been relentless about joining me for an appointment. And when it came time for the mid-pregnancy ultrasound, I had finally acquiesced. I knew that he just wanted to feel involved, and I knew that -- no matter how mortifying it was for me -- he deserved to be by my side.
Besides, I had promised that I would be more open and honest about the experience. I don’t think it gets more “open and honest” than laying on a gynecological exam table, completely naked under a crunchy paper exam gown, while you field questions about blood-flow to your labia and other swollen extremities.
At least those were the types of questions that I would be emotionally prepared for, if the doctor ever decided to turn up...
“We’ve only been waiting for forty-five minutes,” Josh said, glancing up at the white clock on the exam room wall.
“Forty-five minutes is a long time.” I reached my hands down around the bottom of my rounded stomach. It took two of my palms to cover the same space that Josh covered with one hand, but together we were able to cover almost all of my tiny bump.
I wondered how much longer that would be true; my abdomen seemed to protrude a little more every day, and the shape of my stomach seemed to grow more round and defined.
“What if they found a problem with my bloodwork?” I asked anxiously.
When Josh and I had first been taken back to the exam room, a nurse had collected several vials of blood from me, along with a urine sample. I knew this was all just standard procedure…but it still made me nervous.
“I doubt they even process your bloodwork here,” Josh shrugged. “They probably send it out to a lab. It’ll be days before they get the results back…”
Right again, I told myself as I released a heavy sigh.
Josh’s eyes flicked down to me and he smiled.
“You know…” he said, “I had to sit through an emergency birthing class as part of my training at the firehouse.”
“Really?” I frowned, trying to imagine what an ‘emergency birthing class’ would even look like. So far, my only experience with ‘birthing classes’ was a series of Lamaze videos that I had subscribed to on YouTube.
“Yep,” Josh nodded. “I am qualified in the state of Connecticut to deliver babies…but only in emergency situations.”
My frown broke and I let out an amused chuckle.
“What cons
titutes an emergency situation?” I asked.
“Oh, you know, the usual…when a woman in labor finds herself broken down on the side of the highway, or trapped in an elevator, or stuck in a burning building…”
“Well in that case, I’m glad you’re here,” I couldn’t help but smile, picturing Josh Hudson coaching a woman through labor as flames engulfed the room around them. “If this doctor takes much longer, we might find ourselves in an emergency situation.”
“You’re in good hands,” Josh nodded stoically, tipping an imaginary fireman’s helmet to me. Then: “Want me to take a look? Just in case?”
“What?”
Josh’s smirk stretched into a devious grin as he reached for a pair of latex gloves from the dispenser on the wall, then stepped around to the foot of the exam table.
“Can you put your feet in the stirrups for me?” he asked in a stern doctor’s voice, nodding to the metal contraptions on either side of the table.
“Josh--”
“Miss, I’m a professional.”
He snapped the latex gloves over his hands and I felt my stomach twist in knots and I sank my teeth into my bottom lip.
I’m in a doctor’s office, wearing an ugly exam gown, laying on a table that could pass as a medieval torture device, I thought to myself. So...why am I so turned on right now?
“Scoot down,” he said, beckoning my ass towards the end of the table. I leaned back and scooted towards him. Then I spread my legs apart, planting one foot firmly in each stirrup.
Josh pushed my gown up over my hips, and the rush of cool air tickled my exposed skin. I realized how ridiculous I looked: legs spread apart, completely naked, exposed. But for some reason, as Josh bent between my knees, I didn’t feel ridiculous or exposed…I just felt more turned on.
This is crazy. The doctor could walk in at any moment…
“Interesting,” Josh remarked as he inspected me. He traced one gloved hand along the inside of my thigh, moving towards my pussy.
“What is it?” I squirmed as his touch sent a pang of electricity through my core. With my feet in the stirrups, I knew my lips were spread wide and my entire vulva was on display…he could see everything.
His fingers found the edge of my slit, and I felt another chill rattle through me as the cold sensation of latex slipped through the warmth of my folds. My breath came out in a husky gasp, responding to his fingers slipping inside of me.
“Entrance is tight,” he remarked, still using the flat, official tone of a doctor dictating notes to his imaginary assistant. He slipped two fingers inside of me, then spread them apart slowly, stretching my opening. “Excellent elasticity….” he pressed his fingers deeper, deeper…as deep as he could go. “Perfect depth.”
He withdrew his hand quickly, then he held it up. I could see my juices all over the fingers of his glove, and he observed the glistening latex thoughtfully.
“Excessive lubrication,” he noted, “Most likely a symptom of arousal?”
My cheeks turned beet red. Then he raised his gloved hand to his mouth and pressed his fingers to his tongue, tasting me.
“Fuck, you taste amazing,” he grunted, dropping the contrived doctor voice. He ripped off the latex gloves and thrust his head between my knees. I squirmed on the table as I felt his tongue lap up every quivering, throbbing, pulsing inch of my sex.
My moans echoed off of the tile floor and sterile white walls of the exam room. He scooped his fingers under my ass and lifted me a few inches up. He dug his fingers into my ass cheeks and splayed them apart as he lifted me higher, then he thrust both of his thumbs into my pussy as his lips sealed around my clit.
“Josh, I’m going to--” before I could announce my orgasm, I felt it rattle through my bones. The entire exam table shook underneath me as waves and waves of pleasure burst and spread and reverberated through my body…
The climax was so intense that I might have been rendered comatose…if it wasn’t for a sudden, sharp knocking sound on the exam room door.
Josh immediately stood up and jerked the crisp pink exam gown back over my knees, making me decent just as the door creaked open and a nurse stepped in.
“You two can join me in the ultrasound room now!” she beamed eagerly, completely oblivious to what had just transpired on the exam table...
***
“This might feel a little bit chilly!” the technician warned me as she squeezed a glob of ice-cold ultrasound gel onto my stomach. I shivered on the soft padded exam table, and I felt Josh’s warm hand clamp down on my shoulder.
“Ready to see your baby?” the technician grinned down at me. My eyes flicked to Josh, and he gave me a reassuring nod as he squeezed my shoulder.
“I’m ready,” I said with a deep breath.
I felt the smooth metal ultrasound head land in the pile of gel that had been deposited just above my navel. The technician moved the wand around, spreading the substance like it was grape jelly and my stomach was a PB&J sandwich. As she guided the device around my stomach, her eyes stayed glued to the monitor.
For a split second, I wondered why her face looked so tense. Why isn’t she smiling? Why isn’t she making small-talk, or asking some embarrassing question about my areolas or my bladder control? Is something wrong?!
My eyes flicked back up to Josh. His hand was still on my shoulder, and his eyes hadn’t let me out of his sight.
It’s ok, he mouthed silently.
“Ah-hah!” the technician announced finally, breaking into a smile. “Looks like Baby is striking a pose for us today! Are you ready to see?”
“Yes,” I tried to say, but instead of making a coherent word, I just made some sort of anxious squeal in an affirmative tone of voice.
The ultrasound technician swiveled the computer monitor around so that we could see it, and I felt my jaw drop.
The image on the screen wasn’t just a little black blob anymore. It was a baby. A real, perfect, tiny little baby. I could clearly make out the silhouette of its head, and the curvature of its tiny spine and folded legs…
“Holy shit,” I murmured. My body was shaking, but it wasn’t because of the cold ultrasound gel anymore. I was in awe…
“Your baby looks perfect,” the tech told me with a reassuring smile. “Strong heartbeat, and we are measuring right on target for your due date. Would you like to know the baby’s gender?”
I glanced up at Josh and he shrugged: “Your call, Pinky.”
I considered it for a second, then I shook my head.
“No,” I decided. “I think it should be a surprise.”
“No problem!” the tech smiled. “I’m just going to print a few of these images for you to take home, and then you’ll be all set!”
She stood up from her swivel chair and headed out of the room, leaving Josh and I alone with the image of our baby on the computer monitor.
“We made that, Pinky,” Josh whispered in a soft voice. I glanced at him, and I realized for the first time that his hand wasn’t on my shoulder anymore. At some point, his fingers had tangled in between mine. He was holding my hand, and I hadn’t even noticed.
But now that I had noticed…I decided that I liked the way it felt. I kept my hand in his and I smiled.
We made that, I repeated to myself.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN | JOSH
“LADIES AND GENTLEMAN!” Logan Ford had assumed the voice of a ring announcer as he cupped his hands and crooned loudly into the firehouse vehicle bay.
“STANDING AT SIX-FOOT-SOMETHING AND WEIGHING A STAGGERING 220 POUNDS OF SOLID MUSCLE…PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND: MISTTERRRRRRRRR JANUARY!”
I glanced across the vehicle bay and saw my brother, Brady, stride into view through the giant roll-up garage doors. He was met with an enthusiastic chorus of applause and catcalls from the small crowd of people that had congregated in the center of the vehicle bay, where the official Firehouse 56 calendar photoshoot was already underway.
&nbs
p; There were twelve members of the Firehouse 56 crew; one for every month of the year. That meant that each of us would get our own moment to shine in a solo photoshoot. First up: Brady Hudson, resuming his role as the month of January. And, as always, I was trailing just behind him as the month of February.
This calendar photoshoot was a big deal for the entire crew, but it felt especially important for me. Posing in the calendar felt like a right of passage; like I was finally a real part of Firehouse 56. And that meant that today was the day I would finally get to upstage my brother’s legacy.
Move over, January…it’s February’s turn in the spotlight.
Preparations for the photoshoot had begun a full week in advance. Brady and Troy had emptied out the entire vehicle bay, and then they had spent an entire day scrubbing the oil stains out of the concrete. The day after that, they had acid etched the entire garage floor and applied a fresh coat of sealant. I bet the floor hadn’t sparkled like that since the day the old chief cut the ribbon on Firehouse 56 several decades ago.
The shiny concrete garage floor wasn’t the only thing that sparkled. We had also been under strict orders from the chief to get the trucks looking spick and span for the photoshoot. Every engine, truck, and bus in our fleet was freshly washed and waxed. Fire engine red never looked better than it did after a fresh coat of Armor All.
While every nook and cranny of the firehouse was polished, waxed, and buffed until it shined like a brand new penny, there was one thing we weren’t touching: our turnout gear. The photographer that we had hired for the calendar wanted to capture every last soot stain, ash mark, and burned patch on our uniforms. She thought it’d be more authentic that way; the grungier, the better. We all agreed; those burnt patches and ash marks were our badges of honor, and we had earned every last one of them.
Just because our turnout gear was staying dirty, didn’t mean the Firehouse 56 crew was skimping on personal grooming. In fact--
My thoughts were interrupted when I felt my cell phone vibrate from the pocket of my turnout pants. I reached for the phone and glanced at the screen. It was an incoming call; the name ‘Colonel’ flashed on the caller ID.
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