“Do you want me to touch it?”
“Oh, please.” And then, after a moment, “Sir.”
Mark moved around and dropped to his knees before her. He stared at her—open, welcoming, and wanting. He drew in her scent. It made him lightheaded. He could smell her arousal. Heat washed off her in waves. Her entire body quivered.
How he longed to taste her.
He wasn’t a particularly patient man. Not at all a masochist. So he did. He dipped his head and drew his tongue along the length of her seam. She tasted like honey and cream. Delicious. When he dabbed her hard clit, she cried out. A dollop of glistening cream oozed from inside her.
Mark’s heart stuttered at the sight. Smothering a groan, he yanked her closer and buried his face. He circled her swollen button with his tongue, glorying in her shivers, her cries, the feel of her nails scoring his scalp.
He sucked her in and nibbled, tightening his hold on her hips when she began to buck and plead.
“Hold still,” he told her. But at the same time, he was determined to foment insurrection. He wanted her crazed with lust, clawing at his shoulders and writhing in his arms. He wanted her pleading for mercy and coming all over his tongue.
And he got what he wanted. She broke.
It began with small, stiff shudders and quickly grew to wild arching lunges. She wrapped her thighs around his head and thrust against him as he consumed her, sucking, licking, lapping, and flicking at that fat bundle of nerves.
When she tipped her hips, exposing the mouth of her cunt, he couldn’t resist. He eased a thick finger into her scalding velvet channel. He pulled out—she protested, but not for long, because he slipped in a second finger.
Her response was feral. “Oh, yes,” she growled. “Fuck me. Fuck me.”
He wanted to scold her, to remind her he was not hers to command—but at the moment, he was. Seating three thick fingers inside, he tormented her swollen nub with his lips, worked her.
He hunted until he found the spot, the place deep inside where her nerves were raw and exposed and aching for his touch. He stroked her. Gouged at her. Besieged her.
All of a sudden, she stiffened. Every muscle clenched. Her walls seized around him in a mind-blowing vise. A hot rain, a wash of pleasure drizzled over his fingers.
He looked up. He had to see it—the expression on her face. It was sublime.
Ecstasy played over her features as he worked her with his fingers, stoking her orgasm, making her come again and again until she collapsed in a nerveless bundle in his arms.
Charlotte struggled to recover herself. She’d never come so hard.
In fact, calling those other things orgasms was almost a joke.
What Mark had done to her was unlike anything she’d ever known. And now he held her as her body quaked and quivered. His arms were strong and warm. She felt the twitch of each muscle, the puff of each breath. The throb of his heart.
After a long while, he took her into his arms, carried her to the bedroom, and laid her on the bed. The pillows smelled of him. He left her side, giving her a moment to collect herself. He wasn’t gone long. The bed dipped with his weight.
She opened her heavy lids and stared.
He smiled down at her, caressed her hair, her cheek. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” A laugh laced the word. She was more than okay. She was phenomenal.
“Are you ready to continue?” The surprise must have shown on her face, because he chuckled. “Oh, we’re not done yet.”
“We’re not?”
“Hell, no.” He held out something, a jumble of leather and soft chambray.
“What’s this?”
“Restraints.” He said it in a matter-of-fact tone that sent shivers slithering down her spine.
Lust reawakened, bubbled up.
“But only if you want to.”
Did she? Of course she did. “Will you show me how to put them on?”
He did, slowly, cautiously, tracking her every reaction. “I’m going to tie you to the bed, Charlotte. And then I’m going to fuck you.”
The thought should have horrified her, terrified her. It did not. She swallowed and met his warm brown gaze. “Okay.”
Heat sizzled in his eyes. He yanked one of the leather cuffs tight, and after kissing the inside of her wrist, right on the fading scars of her recent ordeal, tightened the other. Then he hooked both restraints to the head of the bed. “Tug on them.”
She did. They didn’t budge.
“Still okay?”
She nodded.
He studied her for a moment, and then shifted. The muscles in his jaw clenched. Then, determinedly, he reached for the buttons of her blouse.
When the cool air hit her exposed nipples, she whimpered. But she remembered what he’d said. She kept her eyes on his face. And heavens, she loved looking at his face.
His head dipped. His warm, velvet mouth encased one nipple, then the other: lapping, licking, sucking. Delight assailed her with each minute caress. His palm drifted down her body, then back up under the hem of her dress. He found her core and stroked diligently. Before long she was writhing again. This time, with her hands bound, the feelings were even more intense. He could have his way with her—do anything—and she couldn’t stop him. The knowledge liquefied her. Dampness seeped down her cleft.
When she was panting and writhing, he stood and ripped off his trousers. She gasped at the absolute beauty of his body. His briefs followed with no preamble.
Charlotte choked on her breath as his cock, hard and heavy, sprang free. He was thick, fat, and long, and she ached to feel him inside her. “Oh please,” she whispered.
“Spread your legs.” His voice was rough, like he was on the very edge of his control, like he was desperately reining himself in.
She let her thighs steal apart, revealing herself.
He raked his fingers through his thick hair and groaned. “Jesus, Charlotte. I’ve wanted this since the moment I saw you.”
“I’ve wanted it too. Please. Fuck me, Mark.”
Her words sent him over the edge, hurtling out of control. He yanked open the drawer of the bedside table, pulled out a condom, and slipped it on with trembling fingers. Then he knelt on the bed and levered over her. Without another word, he slipped inside.
She was tight. The sensation of his aching cock easing into her sopping cunt nearly unmanned him. She spread her legs further apart. He bit back a snarl of satisfaction as she tightened around him even more.
“Fuck me,” she demanded.
And he lost his mind.
No longer able to take it slow, Mark pulled out and slammed back into Charlotte’s warm and welcoming body. Shards of delight pierced his body as he thrust deep and deeper still.
Hard, hot, and fast, he fucked her, sluicing in and out at a dizzying pace. He couldn’t get enough, didn’t want it to ever end. She squeezed his length with each withdrawal, opened to him on every thrust. Her cries, her sharp gasps, her moans in his ear drove him on to darker insanity.
Too soon, he felt the pressure build. He closed his eyes, held his breath, and tried to force it back down, to hold it off.
But then she lifted her head and captured his lips. Nibbled on his tongue. Sucked it in. And the world exploded.
She came with him, clutching him, writhing beneath him and around him, taking him with her to ever more dizzying heights. Delirium cascaded in this soul as come jetted from him in a scalding rush.
It took a while for him to recover. He’d never known such absolute bliss.
And he knew why.
Because it was her.
Because it was Charlotte.
He released her at once, massaging and kissing her wrists. “So…is that something you might like to try again, sometime?”
She met his gaze with a serene smile. Her response delighted him.
“Oh yes, Sir. Yes.”
HOOK ME UP
Adele Dubois
I’d give my right nut for a hot cup of
coffee and breakfast,” Knox Bennett said to his partner Frank Johnston as they unfastened their helmets and facemasks and loaded them into the truck. Their fire-retardant hoods came off next. “Then I want a shower and about ten hours’ sleep.” It would be an hour—at least—before he could take those small comforts.
Soot streaked his face, making him look like a blue-eyed raccoon, and stuck to his turnout coat, pants, and boots like paint splatter. Knox groaned as he climbed into the cab of Engine Number 6 on weary legs and started the engine. They’d pulled another all-nighter in a neighboring community where an arsonist had torched a second row of houses. It had taken ladders from four adjacent towns to put the fires out. “At least we have beds to go home to. It’s a shame about all those families.”
Frank buckled his seatbelt, riding shotgun. “When the FBI catches the bastard, I want to kick his ass before they haul him away.” He emphasized his point with a terse nod of his dark head.
“Get in line.” Knox turned right at the next intersection and headed south. Their station sat smack in the middle of apple-orchard country in southeastern Pennsylvania. The trees were just beginning to bud, and in another month apple blossoms would decorate every neighborhood in town. Just the sight of his hometown in the distance eased the tension in his neck and the kinks in his shoulders. Knox had never lived anywhere else and couldn’t imagine ever wanting to leave Appleton. A wife, a few kids, and a promotion to captain would make life here just about perfect.
The flash of something out of sync with the earth-toned landscape slid past his peripheral vision, and he eased his foot off the accelerator by reflex. “Did you see that?” Knox checked his mirrors, tapped the brakes, and slowed.
“See what, bro?” Frank stretched to look outside his window.
“That slash of purple inside the old apple tree we passed back there. Like something was falling.” Knox pulled over. “My gut tells me something isn’t right.”
“Turn around when I give the go.” Frank hopped out of the truck and walked around to direct traffic.
Only two cars passed; the residential neighborhood was calm. Frank gave the all-clear and Knox reversed the fire truck with a three-point turn. The backup signals pierced the still morning air. Frank hopped on the rear and held the ladder as Knox moved forward.
Several houses down, Knox found what he was looking for—a tidy lawn with the oldest apple tree he’d ever seen growing from the center. A modest white house stood in its shade.
Knox got out of the truck and stood on the sidewalk, craning his neck to inspect the apple branches, while Frank came up behind him. Knox heard the sobs at the same time he spied the purple patch near the tree’s highest limb.
Knox pointed. “There.”
Adrenaline kicked in, erasing his earlier weariness. He ran to the truck to grab a hook and a coil of rope and bolted into the yard.
Lexi Wentworth sobbed and swore, scolding her kitten for getting them into this predicament. “Naughty Ginger for climbing up this tree,” she said, trying again to right herself where she hung upside down.
She’d only cracked the front door open for a teensy second, to slip a birthday card for her mother into the mailbox, when Ginger had bolted through. Lexi had thought she could catch the tabby and bring her back inside without much fuss. How far could a kitten run up a tree?
Unfortunately, Lexi found the answer dressed in nothing but a hip-length, see-through purple nightie and matching thong above her bedroom slippers, which had since fallen off. Why she’d let her friend talk her into buying this getup, she’d never know. Becky said fantasy was good for the soul. Well, her soul was fine. Pretty much. Her sex life was the part that sucked.
Lexi’s left leg had gotten stuck above the knee in forked twin limbs twisted with vines, and she’d toppled backward against the trunk. Bark dug into the small of her back and bare buttocks and dizziness swam as blood rushed to her head. Her nightgown hung upside down on her body, baring her breasts and abdomen to the birds and sky.
She tried to hoist herself up by pushing off two lower branches, but succeeded in merely arching her back. The lift offered muscle support and relief from the scratchy bark, but little else. She brushed the hem of her nightie from her face and tucked the garment under her chin. Her tabby mewled beside her, every hair on its slender body standing straight as a thistle.
“Poor kitty,” she murmured. “You’re more frightened than me.”
To take pressure off her trapped leg and offer some leverage, Lexi reached for an overhead branch. She sighed as the maneuver reduced the pull to her knee. The reprieve was short-lived; the branch snapped off in her hand and sent her reeling back against the tree trunk. “Ow!”
The nightie slipped into a pool around her neck and chin, exposing her bare torso to the morning breezes. She might as well give up smoothing it over her breasts; it would only fall down again. Who the hell would see her, anyway?
The realization that no one might find her prickled her spine like a blast of cold needles. The half-acre lots in her neighborhood offered a great deal of privacy. Her nearest neighbors had already gone to work. Unless she started screaming at the top of her lungs, no one would know where to find her.
Terror struck and Lexi’s tears welled. Her knee throbbed. Had she broken her leg? She counted off the weeks until the school year ended. If she had, she’d have to finish the marking period limping around her third grade classroom on crutches.
Assuming she got rescued. What if no one came?
She found her voice then and shouted for all she was worth. “Help! Somebody help me!” Perspiration dotted her temples as panic set in. “I need help!”
To her amazement, a husky, reassuring voice answered. “Try not to move. I’ll be right up.”
She must have grown delusional. The blood rushing from her feet to her brain had turned her mind to oatmeal. The most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on moved into her line of sight and stood at the base of her apple tree. He had corn-colored hair and looked up at her with the eyes of an angel. The soot on his cheeks and chin couldn’t camouflage the stunning face beneath.
A firefighter dressed in full regalia.
She watched, slack-jawed and filled with hope, as he pulled off his yellow-striped coat to reveal the dark T-shirt beneath. Even upside down she could see his trim waist and the way his tanned biceps flexed when he moved. She watched him pick tools off the ground—a circle of rope and a long-handled hook with an axe on the opposite side. In one smooth motion, he lifted the rope to his shoulder and clutched the hook as he began to climb.
That’s when she remembered her naked breasts and the purple lace thong she barely wore.
Knox stared up at the woman caught in the apple tree in total disbelief. It wasn’t just the jam she’d gotten herself into that surprised him, but the rescue fantasy she presented that pumped duel shots of liquid energy into his system. She was every fireman’s wet dream. How was he supposed to remain professional and clearheaded while wearing a raging hard-on?
The higher he climbed, the more beautiful the woman became. Her skin looked smooth and soft to the touch. Long, honey-colored hair trailed beneath her like ripples in a pond. She stared at him over one shoulder with frightened but shining golden eyes. The look tore a hole through his gut.
He tried to be a gentleman and avert his eyes from her magnificent breasts and belly. Too late. He’d already noted every incredible curve and hollow, including the sexy gold ring at her navel. For the rest of his life he’d remember the way this extraordinary woman looked in this moment. Her image would be tattooed on his brain the way her rescue would become the firehouse tale that marked him as a man and defined his career.
None of that mattered now. All that counted was the help he could provide. His mind clicked through procedures until he processed the necessary steps to take her down safely. Since nothing in the manual covered this situation, he’d have to improvise. He hung the coil of rope on a stub and set the hook on a limb.
/> Knox noted no obvious serious injuries; the woman appeared calm, though he hadn’t ruled out shock. “I’ve got you,” he said. “Let me guide your hands to a supporting branch until I can get you down, okay?”
The woman blinked her understanding and offered a small nod. Her eyes shone with tears.
Knox held her wrists while she followed his lead.
As he maneuvered the woman’s hands to a secure spot, something spit and hissed in his direction. Knox spotted a kitten and stifled a smile: no one from his firehouse had ever rescued a cat from a tree. “Let’s get kitty safely out of the way so that I can focus on you.”
“Her name’s Ginger,” the woman replied.
He reached for the frightened cat with one hand while he whispered words of encouragement.
The kitten mewed and licked his fingers after he scooped her up.
“Good girl.”
Knox called down to his partner. “Frank! Take care of this cat, will you?” He leaned down and handed over the pet as Frank climbed up. Knox blocked the woman’s nakedness from his partner’s view as best he could. Her vulnerability stirred his protective instinct more than usual. “She could use a blanket when I bring her down.” He asked for a couple of other things and turned back to the woman.
“Let’s get that pressure off your leg.” He drove the axe into the tree, then uncoiled the rope and looped it around a limb and the hook to create a makeshift pulley.
Knox climbed up to straddle a limb directly above the woman’s trapped leg and tied the free end in a slipknot around his waist. Then he leaned down to cradle the woman in his arms.
The intimate contact of her warm, soft body against his forged a connection that struck his soul like a physical ache. Though he’d always been empathetic to fire victims, he rarely met the property owners whose flames he’d extinguished. This rescue became personal the moment the woman leaned into his shoulder.
He raised her into a sitting position. As he did, he lowered her nightgown over her breasts and belly to restore her privacy. The sheer fabric offered little of that, but she smiled at him in appreciation. The warm gold flecks in her eyes drew him in and he fought back an almost irresistible urge to kiss her. “I’m Knox. What’s your name?”
Smokin' Hot Firemen Page 3