by Renee Rose
She takes a sip of wine and grimaces.
I laugh. “Is it bad?”
She smiles. “Just not used to it.”
“It’s not really my thing, either. Next time I’ll take you out for wings and a beer.”
She grins and lifts her glass to clink mine. “Cheers to that.”
We order our food and she steals glances at me over the top of her wine glass. “Do you always feel like you have to take a girl out after you spank her ass?”
I choke on my water and cough, hiding my mouth with my napkin.
I’m saved from answering by the waitress bringing our food—her chicken, my steak. I watch her eat, enjoying her healthy appetite. She may be small, but her metabolism must be off the charts, because she cleans her plate in about five minutes flat.
When we finish, I insist on ordering dessert, because of the way she perked up when the waitress mentioned it.
Finally, I broach the subject I’ve been toying with since yesterday. “So, Lia. About the pyromania.”
Her fork, loaded with flourless chocolate torte, freezes on the way to her mouth.
“I could propose a theory that you chose to be a firefighter because you’re enamored with flames, but I think it’s something else. Something deeper.”
She sets the fork down, the morsel of dessert uneaten.
“I used to work over on Staten Island. Ladder number 153.”
Lia
Oh God.
I’m sure all the blood drains from my face. My dinner I so enjoyed turns into a rock in my belly.
Blaze goes on, “I remember a cop’s house burned down. There was a teenage girl.”
Damn the tears that pop into my eyes. I blink them back.
Blaze signals for the check and picks up my hand. “That’s a lot to carry, little girl,” he murmurs softly.
I can’t breathe—can’t look into his steady blue gaze. I drop my eyes to the table. He knows about our fire. Could he have guessed it was all my fault?
“Lotta guilt.”
My head jerks back up. Jesus. He put it together.
Everything.
The secret I’ve kept all these years. The reason I have to make it work as a firefigher, have to redeem myself, make sure I atone for my sins.
He doesn’t seem accusatory, though. There’s sympathy in his eyes, but also a firmness, like he’s not about to let me get away with lying, or hiding from my past.
My lips tremble. “What is this?”
He shrugs his sculpted shoulders. “As your captain, I need to know your motivations and your weaknesses. We work as a team. Our lives are literally in each other’s hands.”
The crowded restaurant swoops around me. I pull a steadying breath through my nostrils and manage to nod. “Wow. I didn’t expect this.”
“I don’t want you acting the hero because you have to make up for some past crime you can’t get over, Lia. You won’t make the right decisions. You’ll endanger yourself and the rest of us.”
I draw back, stung. Is he saying he can’t keep me on the job after all? What kind of horrible non-date is this?
“I’d like to see you work through this shit fast.”
“And how do you propose I do that?”
“Submit for punishment and wipe the slate clean.”
I sit there blinking for a moment, replaying his words to make sense of them.
“Punishment?” I finally croak. What is he suggesting? I turn myself into the cops? To my dad? What are they going to do—investigate a crime I committed when I was thirteen?
That’s when I see the corners of his lips turn up. The wicked gleam in his eyes.
And suddenly, my panties are soaked. My nipples harden like diamonds.
“Holy shit. You mean submit to you?” My pussy literally clenches, like his fingers are inside me again.
He doesn’t move, just watches me with that all-seeing blue gaze. But then I see he’s not breathing and I realize he’s sweating this moment as much as I am.
Sure he is. If I react badly—if I tell anyone about this conversation—anyone at all—he’ll lose his job and reputation in a flash. And just like that, the power shifts back to me.
I pick up my discarded fork and take a seductive bite of dessert. “And what would this punishment entail, Captain?”
He shifts in his seat like his dick got hard and he has to make room for it in his pants.
Good.
“Three spankings. Serious ones—the kind that leave your ass sore the next day.”
OMG, OMG, OMG. I want to put my fingers between my legs right now to alleviate the throb there.
“Will there…” I clear my throat. “Will they have a happy ending?”
His lips curve up. “I promise if you take it like a good girl, there will be plenty of rewards.”
Pussy clench.
“Wow.” Heat feathers across my face and I become very interested in forking up my next bite of torte.
“Lia, I think you’re excited about my proposal, but if you feel at all obligated—like I’m your boss and you have to do this to keep the job—tell me to fuck off right now. Because if you’re not one hundred percent on board, I will never, ever mention any of this again. In fact, you can think of this conversation as your job security, because you pretty much have me by the balls now.”
I relax a bit. I wasn’t feeling obligated, but I love that he’s making himself as vulnerable to me as I feel with him right now.
“Seriously—this could be the worst sexual harassment case the FDNY ever saw. Which is pretty ripe considering I’ve been worried about keeping the other guys from making you uncomfortable.”
I take my last bite of dessert and set the fork down. “I’m in. I’m totally in.” I meet his gaze squarely.
The connection between us is electric. His lips quirk up.
“And I’m kinda terrified.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s part of the thrill.” He throws some money on the table and stands. His arm loops around my waist when I stand. “I promise I’ll take care of you, Sparks. Do you believe that?”
I look up into his rugged face. Do I? Can I trust this guy with my body? My pride?
I think of how he managed me yesterday—not just the sex part, but the way he pinned me down to get the truth out of me. If only someone in my family had done that for me after the fire. Just pinned me down and asked what I knew. If I’d started it.
Would my life have been easier?
Hell, yes.
“Yeah, I believe it.” I reach around his waist and pat his rock hard ass. “Besides, I have you by the balls, right?”
His deep laugh is rich and it warms me from the inside. “Exactly, Sparks. As it should be.”
After a cab ride back to my place, he walks me to the door. When he doesn’t follow me in, I turn and lean in the door frame.
“Did you want to come in?”
“No. Tonight I’m going to kiss you at the door and send you to bed. We’re working tomorrow and I need you fresh. Next Tuesday when we’re on our three day break, I want you at my place at 7 p.m. sharp, ready to submit. If you don’t show, I’ll assume you changed your mind and I’ll never say another word about it. Understand?”
I nod.
“I need a yes, sir.”
Pussy clench.
I lean into his space so my breasts brush his shirt. “Yes… Daddy.”
His eyes darken. He snatches me up against him and claims my mouth with the same fervor he showed at the beginning of the evening. One hand palms my ass. I lift a leg and wrap it around his waist. Well, more like his thighs, because I can’t reach his waist.
I know he wants me—the evidence of his arousal pushes against my stomach—but he eases me back with a groan.
“Fuck, you taste so sweet. I can’t wait to find out if the rest of you tastes this good.” He moves back in, cupping my mons, rubbing the knuckle of his thumb over my clit.
I cry out, already close to orgasm, just from our conver
sation and the kissing.
He steps back again, though, smacking my pussy through my jeans. “Here’s a rule you’d better heed—no pleasure until after punishment. This pussy belongs to me. Don’t touch her unless I give you permission.” He reaches out and tweaks one of my nipples through my blouse. “I know you’re excited. You can think about how you’ll be punished, but no touching. You’re just going to have to let that energy build so you’re primed and ready for it when the time comes.”
I let out a growl of frustration and Blaze rubs my ear between his fingers, then tugs it gently.
“What do you say?”
“Yes, Daddy.” He liked it when I called him that last time. I’m not going to stop.
“Good girl. I promise I’ll make it worth it, Sparks.” He winks at me and steps back to shut the door.
Oh lordy. How will I survive until Tuesday? I’m already ready to explode!
Chapter 5
Blaze
By Monday, I’m supercharged. I’ve worked two more shifts with my little pyro, and I can’t wait to get my hands on her again.
I may have told Lia not to touch herself, but I didn’t hold myself to the same standard. And believe me, it was for everyone’s highest good. The team does not need a blue-balled captain running the show. I figure I’m doing the city a favor by jerking off twice a day to relieve the pressure.
Every time I even think about what’s going to happen Tuesday I get a boner the size of Lady Liberty. I’m also putting most of my mental energy into planning the date. Yeah, I’m calling it a date.
It’s the best kind of fantasy date I can imagine.
I guess that makes me the kinky motherfucker my ex-fiancée Samantha always accused me of being.
I have some weird dominance kink. Sure, I’m an alpha male in all aspects of my life. And I’m definitely protective—over-protective is what Samantha called me. But I’m also... kinked. Not sadistic. Not really. But spanking a girl gets me harder than a rock.
And I fucking love the idea of spanking her for real. Not just a couple slaps as foreplay, but a full-on punishment. The kind that leaves her begging for mercy and wide-eyed with submission.
Don’t try to get me to explain why.
There is no why.
It’s just the way I’m wired.
And before I saw the way Lia lit up over the idea of punishment, I thought it made me a sick bastard. That’s why she’s almost too good to be true. That’s why I can’t leave the girl alone, despite the risk to my career.
Because it’s like the moment I recognized the twin flame in her, the ember of mine flared to life. I’d been smothering it. Starving it for oxygen.
But suddenly it seemed acceptable. Not just acceptable—actually welcomed. A thing to be enjoyed. A thing that could give Lia pleasure.
And that gave me the headiest power rush I’ve ever had.
Possibly even more than saving lives or putting out fires.
I’m tempted to get her alone today, whisper all the dirty things I want to do to her, but I can’t risk it. It’s bad enough it’s my night to cook and she’s hanging around like she wants to help.
I chose ribs. It’s my favorite and can’t be ruined easily by the inevitable call because it’s a slow bake in the oven. The worst for ruined dinner is steak. Or pasta. If a call comes in while you’re in the middle of cooking those, you can just kiss your meal goodbye.
I unwrap the first package of meat, rinse it and slap it down on a huge sheet of tinfoil.
“Captain’s going all out tonight,” Rocket observes, stripping the husk off the two dozen ears of corn we bought. The guys like to give me shit because ribs are expensive and we all split the cost of food, but I know they love it.
Lia hovers a few feet away. I register her presence viscerally, as I’m sure every male in the station does. It’s like I come alive around her, the alpha male in me eager to show off, stake my claim, throw down the competition. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. After Samantha, and the heartbreak of losing my little ready-made family unit, complete with a kid, I guess I wrote off women. Which is pretty lame considering I’m only thirty-six.
“So you gonna graduate me from dish duty tonight or what?” she demands. Her voice is sultry, like honeyed iced tea on a hot day.
I turn and frown, only because I sense an actual smile wanting to appear. Lord knows it would break my face.
“No rookies in the kitchen,” Rocket says flatly.
Our official rule is that newbies aren’t allowed to cook. They’re given dish duty. Cooking for the team is something they work up to as the trust builds. It strikes me as an idiotic rule at the moment.
“If you want to help me, you can,” I find myself saying.
“Wouldn’t be showing a gender bias, would you, Captain?” This from the damn peanut gallery, otherwise known as James.
I toss a scowl his way.
Lia ignores us both and steps up to my side, unwrapping another package of ribs. “I love cooking,” she breezes, pretending there’s no tension over her presence here. “My mom is Puerto Rican. Cooking is an expression of love for her.” She’s already slapping down ribs like she’s a butcher’s wife. She tips her head up to look at me. “You have a special recipe, Captain?”
I stare down at her big green eyes, fascinated with the gold flecks, the long, naturally dark lashes. For a moment, I can’t think of anything but how much I’d like her cooking special meals just for me, serving them up with her as dessert. I pull another scowl to cover. “Just barbecue sauce.”
“Mmm.” She makes a non-committal sound and starts opening cabinets. Pretty soon she’s rubbing the meat with some kind of olive oil and spice concoction before she folds the foil up into neat little packages.
“Little hint, Sparks,” Rocket says to Lia. “You’re not supposed to make the captain look bad. Haven’t you wondered why we call him Blaze?”
“Temper?” She steals a look at me.
“Yep.”
Her nipples bead up under her t-shirt. I almost growl out loud, thinking that the other guys might notice.
“I’m not afraid of him,” she says lightly, inciting a chorus of “oohs” from the guys.
“Oh you should be, little gi—”
Damn. I cannot call her little girl around here.
I clear my throat. “I mean, uh, Sparks.”
James snorts. “You’re so worried about us getting the department slapped with a harassment suit.”
Lia pops the ribs in the oven and starts washing the lettuce for the salad.
“Are you telling me strip poker was a good idea?”
He shrugs. He’s the one who bitched the loudest when I told him they hired a female for the vacant position. It’s his cousin J.J. who Lia replaced after J.J. fell off the ladder and broke his back. He survived. He may even walk again. But it will be a long slow recovery and he won’t ever join us or any other crew again. We’re all sorry as hell he was hurt on the job. “I don’t think any of this is a good idea.”
Lia turns slowly. “Any of what, exactly?” Her chin lifts, green eyes pin him.
James scowls and stands up like he’s disgusted with her and the whole conversation. “You have no idea what this job is about, do you?” he snarls.
The certainty slips from her expression for a moment, and I’m relieved she realizes there’s more to this than sexism. She glances at me and I give my head a small shake.
Her gaze slips back to James. “I’m hoping to learn,” she says simply.
James snorts and leaves the room.
I’m dying to wrap Lia up in my arms, but, of course, I can’t. Rocket’s up behind her, dropping a hand on her shoulder. I should be grateful the rest of the crew has some sympathy, but the sight of him touching her makes my fingers curl into fists.
And of course, that’s when the alarm sounds, ending any chance for explanations or discussion.
Lia
I call my cousin Talia on the way to Blaze’s.
I close my eyes, grateful for her enthusiasm. As the only girl in a male-dominated family, I latched onto my older cousin like we were sisters. She spent a couple summers with us when she was a teen and I stayed with her for a few months after I graduated high school—when I was trying to figure out what to do with my life. She pretty much got me on the track that led me here. I sometimes joke that she’s my life coach.
“Hey. It’s good. Hard, but good.”
“Yeah? Have you made any friends yet? Are your co-workers hot? Or is it wrong to perv on firemen when you’re one of them?”
I laugh. “Actually…” I drag the last syllable out.
“Ooh. This sounds interesting. Did you make a special friend?”
“Okay, wow. You read into this situation way too fast. Um, yeah. I have a date tonight with the captain.”
“A date? Is that allowed?”
I get off the subway and walk up the street with the phone glued to my ear. “No! It’s totally not allowed. But we had this kind of incredible magnetic attraction. We both agreed not to tell anyone. Do you think I’m crazy?”
“I think you should be careful,” she hedges. “You worked really hard to get this job. But if anything happens to affect your job, we’ll find you a good lawyer and sue the FDNY for sexual harassment.”
“Yeah, and he pretty much admitted he was opening himself up for that, so I think I’m safe. We both know what we’re messing with.”
“You sound good.”
I smile, even though she can’t see it. “I do? Thanks. I’m excited. And nervous.”
“So what are you doing for the date?”
“Um.” I don’t want to tell her this part. I mean how do you say, it’s not really a date, it’s kinky spank play that I can’t even begin to understand my attraction to? “I don’t know yet—he’s in charge.” Not a lie. “I’m almost there, just wanted to say hey in person. Thanks for listening.”
“My pleasure. Have fun on the date. Text me to let me know you got home okay later.”