Blaze: A Fireman Romance (Hard n' Dirty Book 4)

by Renee Rose

  I sneak a glance over my shoulder. No one is there. I reach into my department-issued pants and pull up on the waistband of my new polka-dot panties to stretch the fabric. “One hundred percent cotton.”

  He eyes it like he wants to touch, but seems to hold himself back. “Good girl. You’re dismissed.”

  I don’t particularly like being dismissed. I don’t know what else he could do—there are people in the lounge who saw me come in. But he’s got me hot and bothered now, a slow pulse aching between my legs and no way to relieve it.

  Plus, I can’t stand the sting of rejection at being told I’m dismissed.

  He did the same thing at his house the morning after my punishment session and I wasn’t sure I liked it then, either. I guess he’s making it clear we’re not hanging out. We’re not boyfriend-girlfriend. We’re master and slave. Or daddy and doll. Or whatever name fits this kinky relationship.

  And as much as I love what we’re doing, how incredible the sex is, I’m not sure I can do sex without an emotional attachment.

  I mean, is such thing even possible?

  Maybe just for guys, I don’t know.

  I don’t think it’s me.

  So I guess I need to talk to him.

  Except do I want to break this thing off?

  He suggested three punishments. It was a defined, finite thing. When those are over, are we through? Should I at least get my three before I bail?

  It’s tempting. The last one was so incredible, I don’t want to miss out on the rest.

  I go back to my room and text him, There are punishments for daddies who tease, too.

  His text comes through immediately. Don’t even think about it or you’ll spend all day tomorrow sucking my cock.

  Then a second text follows. Please say you’ll delete both my texts right now.

  I laugh softly, but do as he asks. I know this forbidden relationship is dangerous for us both and I would never want to risk either of our careers. I text back, done.

  Good girl, he texts back.

  I’m starting to wonder about myself. About why those two words have such an effect on me. It seems supremely ironic after spending my entire life defying sexism to prove I’m capable of doing a man’s job, I’d get off on being treated like a little girl.

  At least four times since Tuesday night I’ve panicked, wondering what all this means about me. Am I flawed? How could I, of all people, want to be some guy’s babygirl? How could I want to be disciplined and told what to do?

  And yet I do. I just keep trying to remember this is sex. It’s not real life. It doesn’t mean I can’t be a firefighter or that he doesn’t respect me on the job… at least I hope it doesn’t.

  What if it does? What if I’m ruining my career because I couldn’t help but get kinky with my captain? Because I sure as hell can’t quit—I was lucky enough to get this position.

  I jiggle my phone in my palm, staring at Blaze’s name. Finally, I text something real, something bothering me. Why does James hate me? Because I’m a woman?

  As soon as I do, I’m sorry. What’s he going to say? You can’t tell people how to make friends. They have to figure it out on their own. He’s going to text not to worry about it, and I’m going to feel stupid for asking.

  His reply comes after a moment. You’re replacing his cousin. He’s still mourning that loss. Give him time.

  Oh. I suddenly feel like the biggest ass for not guessing it might be about the guy I’m replacing. I knew he’d been badly hurt on the job. I just was so caught up in trying to prove myself I forgot people might resent anyone who took his place—male or female.

  I text back, shit. I’m sorry.

  No, don’t be. It’s not your fault. He’ll come around. They all will.

  They all will. Does that mean the rest still haven’t? I was kinda thinking I was part of the crew. I mean, I have a nickname and everything.

  I hit the side of my phone to turn the screen off. Fatigue is making all this seem way more daunting than it should be. I reach for a book of matches. I thought about throwing them away after my first date with Blaze. I haven’t lit one since. But now I’m glad I didn’t. An addict never gets rid of their drug.

  I need the flame. It will calm me down. Give me focus.

  I rip off a match and hold it against the striking strip, but something won’t let me flick it.

  If you need to burn something, you come to me and ask for a punishment.

  I want to, I really do. It actually sounds far more satisfying than lighting a match. Except we’re at work. He can’t give me what I need.

  Still, I don’t light it.

  Instead, I flop back on the small bed and stare at the ceiling. After a minute, I stand up and grab the book of matches. I open my door and pad back out to Blaze’s office.

  He looks up at me, his blue eyes scanning my face like he knows something’s wrong. I toss the book of matches on his desk.

  “I need help.” It nearly kills me to say it.

  There’s no smile on Blaze’s face when he stands. He’s dead serious, like I’m a fire he’s going to put out.

  And then the alarm sounds. Neither of us moves for a full three seconds.

  I guess I’m not the fire.

  “I’ll get you after.” His deep voice holds promise, rings like a vow.

  I nod and we both move, running for our gear and the truck and the emergency we’re trained to attack.

  Blaze

  It’s another arson fire. This time an abandoned building, a few blocks from the high school they burned last week.

  Once again, Lia finds the evidence. She discovers three bottles of lighter fluid near an open window. I rode her ass last time for poking around after the fire is out, and I should’ve taken a bite out of her again, but I don’t.

  Mostly because a thought occurs to me.

  Lia’s good at this shit.

  Why wouldn’t she be? She’s a pyro. She was the kid who played with fire. I’m almost certain she set the fire that burned her parents’ house down, whether by accident or on purpose. So she knows how a pyro thinks. And, as if that wasn’t enough, she’s a cop’s kid. All her family’s in the NYPD.

  It’s like she was born to be a fire investigator.

  It’s a perfect profession for her.

  I file that away for later, something to talk to her about—maybe research when the next training will be. It’s not part of our department—fire marshals and fire inspectors are county positions, and we’re city, but I know some inspectors. They usually come from our ranks—guys who have been injured or are getting too old for firefighting.

  We climb back in the fire truck. It’s two hours past our shift and we’re all tired as shit, but I told Lia I’d take care of her, and I’m going to. The crew gets back to the station, and we strip off our turnouts and hit the showers. Lia’s nowhere to be found when I come out, and I have to fight back a little panic.

  She needed me and now she’s gone off on her own.

  But Lia’s a big girl. She doesn’t set fires or cause destruction anymore. She’s not going to hurt herself or anyone else.

  I could call or text her, but I’m too tired to navigate what to say. I don’t even know if she still needs a release after the night we’ve had. I take the subway straight to her neighborhood and buzz her apartment.

  She doesn’t answer at first, so I buzz again in the ‘shave and a haircut’ rhythm so she knows it’s a friendly 2 a.m. visitor. After a few more beats, her voice comes through the intercom. “Yeah?”

  “It’s me. Let me up.”

  She releases the lock on the door, and I go stomping up the steps. The door to her apartment is open a crack and I push right in.

  Damn.

  She’s in her PJs, which consist of a tiny red cami and soft shorts that only cover half her ass.

  I don’t say a word. I don’t know, I guess I’ve used my up my speaking quotient for the day. I wrap my fist in her hair and pull her head back. She blinks up at m
e, need and longing there, burning behind her eyes. My concern she no longer wants this evaporates.

  I stamp my mouth over hers for a quick but brutal kiss, then walk her backward to her bedroom. I release her and unbuckle my belt. Her eyes track the movement, pupils dilating. I’m not going to use it on her—at least not the way she’s thinking, but I love the flutter of her pulse in her neck. I pull her wrists behind her back and fasten my belt around them a few times before, pulling the end through the buckle.

  I fold her over the edge of the bed, my dick getting chubby from manhandling her. The first swat is hard, but I rub the sting away, massaging as I relearn the curves of her ass. Her scent fills my nostrils, and a sense of satisfaction—of rightness pours through my veins. I slap her ass and once more rub it out. The sting of my palm brings my purpose into focus. Nothing matters but satisfying my little girl. Giving her everything she needs and more.

  I pull her miniscule shorts off—time to get down to business.

  I press one hand between her shoulder blades and start a proper spanking—hard, fast strokes meant to challenge her.

  She gasps and twists, stamps her bare feet on the fluffy shag rug.

  Seeing my handprints bloom on her flesh gets me rock hard. I keep spanking, steady and unforgiving, until she’s panting and her ass is rosy pink.

  Only then do I let myself touch between her legs.

  Sopping wet. She’s slick and swollen and begging to be taken.

  It may seem backwards, but I can’t take her without asking. Words need to be spoken now—it’s time to untwist my tongue.

  “What do you need, pretty girl?” My voice comes out sounding deep and gravelly.

  “You.” She answers without hesitation.

  “You want my cock, baby?” I give it a hard squeeze through my jeans.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  My dick surges at her pet name for me. I scramble to pull out a condom and sheath myself before I rub at her entrance. She spreads her legs wider in invitation, but I have to stop and take in the picture she makes. She’s fucking beautiful—my petite, lean-muscled fire warrior in the most submissive posture imaginable. Her small hands curl at her lower back, wide stance revealing the dew glistening between her legs.

  I’m humbled by how willingly she gives herself to me—especially because I know it’s not in character for her. Lia Burke doesn’t roll over for anyone.

  I ease into her, but the moment I’m engulfed in her wet heat, I lose all control. Thought vanishes. It’s just my body and hers—a magnificent joining, the mutual giving and receiving. A humming of pleasure starts in my ears. Or am I making the sound with my throat? I don’t know. All I know is I want to claim Lia in every way possible. I need more, even, than what we have. I want to be her man. Her daddy. Her everything.

  I grasp her elbows to leverage into her harder and faster, my balls tightening for release.

  “Fuck. Lia. Fuck!”

  I come, forgetting to make sure she came first, but she’s right with me, her tight channel squeezing my dick, making me lose my everloving mind.

  Pleasure explodes and I fall forward, bracing my torso with my arms beside her on the bed. I bite her shoulder and her pussy contracts some more, milking more cum out of me.

  “Beautiful girl,” I murmur. “Nobody’s ever made me come this hard.”

  “Me neither,” she mumbles into the bedspread.

  Remembering her position, I scramble to get off and unbuckle her wrists.

  She doesn’t move. I ease out and dispose of the condom.

  She still doesn’t move.

  “Baby? You asleep already?”

  She mumbles something incoherent.

  I chuckle and scoop behind her knees to lift her onto the bed.

  “I’m so tired,” she murmurs against my neck.

  “I know, little dragoness. Me too.” I pull back the covers and settle her in the center of the bed.

  She tugs me down with her. “You should stay. It’s too late to go home.”

  I hadn’t planned on staying, but she’s right. I’m fuck-tired and now that I’ve come, my eyes will barely stay open. I kick off my jeans and flop down beside her, and I’m asleep in an instant.

  Lia

  I adore waking to the feel of Blaze beside me in bed. He’s lying on his back, sleeping hard. There’s something so satisfying about having a huge man in my bed. Not just any huge man—a freaking stallion of a man. And the guy who just barges in, ties me up and spanks my ass without saying one single word.

  I kinda love him.

  His cock twitches when I move in the bed, and I get a streak of naughty in me and reach for it. I put my hand inside his boxer briefs to fist around the base. He automatically pushes into my grip before his eyes even crack.

  “That’s dangerous.” There’s gravel in his voice and, like last night, no smile on him.

  “Oh yeah?” I purr, sliding my fist up and down his length.

  “Mmm.” He pushes up to his elbows and runs a hand across his stubble. “Playin’ with fire.”

  “I guess you know that’s a habit for me.” I cup his balls. A drop of pre-cum forms on his slit.

  Now I see a twitch of his lips.

  “Gonna get yourself fucked hard, little girl.” His growly warning makes my pussy squeeze and lift.

  “What if I wanted to ride shotgun?” I ask, swinging a leg across his hips to straddle him.

  His eyes grow dark, hands reach for my waist. “Is that what you want, little girl?”

  “Is it an option?” My heart’s increased in speed, like I’m testing boundaries here. Does he only do spanky sex? Does he always have to be in charge?

  I’m too afraid to ask the real question that’s been nagging me since we started this game—what does this all mean to him?

  He drops his hand down over the side of the bed, like he’s feeling for something. “Pretty hard to deny you anything.” His hand returns with a condom.

  My chest squeezes. This guy is too good to be true. I snag it from him and open it, rolling it over his thick member. I lift my hips up over him and lower myself onto his cock, taking him inch by inch. He’s so big, it takes me a moment to adjust, but then I start rocking my hips slowly. His gaze grows heavy-lidded, traveling over my body with hunger. He grips my hips and starts pulling me over his cock.

  “Ah, I see,” I tease. “You let me lead for about fifteen seconds.”

  He shakes his head. “Fire,” is the only word he says before he rolls and pins me beneath him.

  I giggle as he wrestles my wrists down beside my head.

  “Are you getting sassy with me, little girl?”

  I buck my hips because he’s not moving and I need more.

  He pulls back and shoves in hard, like it’s a punishment. “Hmm?”

  “What are you going to do about it?” I dare, loving this game. My nipples are hard points, brushing against his chest, pussy pulses around his cock.

  To my chagrin, he pulls out.

  “Hey!” I sit up.

  He pushes me back down and lifts my ankles in the air. I think he’s going for the plow position for sex, but instead he starts spanking me.

  Oh God. It’s so delicious. The position pushes my lady parts out, so he slaps my pussy and my butt at the same time.

  I buck, flexing my legs and reaching to cover, even though I love every minute of it.

  “Are you gonna be good?” he rumbles.

  I shake my head no.

  A warm and affectionate smile creases his face. He kisses the inside of my ankle.

  He grips the fronts of my thighs and slides me toward him, then shoves into me. Despite my caterwauling, I like it way better when he’s on top.

  He pounds into me, making sure I feel every muscle in his mammoth frame, every inch of his punishing cock. The bed slams against the wall over and over again, eliciting yells from the neighboring apartment.

  I giggle and surrender, letting the sensations wash over me—pleasure mostly, a
little pain.

  It’s great to let him lead. In this one small place in my life, I don’t have to be perfect or in control. I don’t have to prove myself. In fact, he likes me naughty.

  He reaches down and pinches one nipple, hard.

  I arch up with a cry.

  He covers my mouth with his hand. He covers my nose for a second and I panic. He immediately releases my nose. “Hold your breath.”

  There’s no question in his words. It’s not a suggestion, only deep command, and I obey.

  I hold my breath and watch him watching me. His brows are drawn down in concentration as he plows into me without a break.

  Urgency blooms within me— the need to breathe twines with the need to come, and I suddenly understand what he’s doing.

  The climax explodes out of me, stars dancing before my eyes. I suck in a breath as Blaze releases my mouth. I let out a wail of release as the bed dances against the wall, Blaze balling me with all he’s got.

  My wail rises in pitch and then he shouts, too, one hand flying to the wall above me while he fucks me through his release and more.

  I float into another universe, knowing nothing but the rhythm of my breath matched with Blaze’s, the mingled sweat of our bodies and the stillness in our sexual aftermath.

  Blaze jerks, suddenly, pulling out. “What day is it?” he asks sharply. His eyes are on the clock beside my bed.

  “Sunday.”

  “Shit.” He climbs out of bed and starts pulling on his clothes. “I have to go. I have to help a friend move.”

  He shoves his boots on and clomps for the door. “Sorry to run out like this. I hope... ah... it was good for you.”

  I can’t answer because I’m too surprised, too disappointed.

  He waves before he’s out the door and I pull a sheet up to cover myself, not that there’s anyone to see me. Just because I’ve never felt so naked. I stare through my empty apartment, my heart pounding.

  He hopes it was good for me?

  What the hell does that mean?

  Wow. I know exactly what it means. It means I’m a kinky hookup.

  Blaze has a life—friends to see. Stuff to do. I actually know nothing about the guy other than that he’s a captain at the fire station.