I am firmly on the awake side of sleep. He’ll text. He always does.
At six-twenty-three in the morning, he texts me a simple message.
It was ugly.
He’ll need me today in a way he doesn’t always need me.
I get up and begin getting ready for him.
Eric will shower off the soot and smoke and stench from his skin and come home to me in his blue work T-shirt and pants—provided another run doesn’t make itself known.
I down a Diet Coke and protein bar for energy as I make up the bed. I reach behind the covers at the head and pull up the soft rope ties. I take in a deep, humming breath as I run them through my fingers. Too soft to make marks, unless one really fights hard.
I pin up my hair and jump in the bath, where I shave everything smooth. I dry and lotion and slip into a tight, floor-length blue nightgown.
I putter around, straightening the house a bit, until I know his shift is over and I’ve heard no new sirens.
My heart beats faster when I hear the garage door open and then close behind his SUV. He’ll be exhausted, so I simply wait in the kitchen for him to come through the door.
I watch as he pushes the door open and sees me. I smile and open my hands, beckoning him.
I see his strong body relax in relief. I know what he needs. After a night like this one, he no longer has to make every decision.
“Come here,” I tell him.
Eric slumps in on himself and reaches me in three long strides. Leaning in, he wraps his thick arms around my waist and rests his head on my breasts.
I let him relax into me as I stroke the skin of his shaved head. A shiver of anticipation runs through me. He feels the electricity.
I lift his face between my two hands and kiss his lips. “Follow me,” I instruct him.
I take his hand and walk toward the stairs. Leading him up, I feel the tension in his grip. It was a bad night. Worse than I will imagine. It will make the paper. I will read about it. He may or may not talk to me about it. But for now, that doesn’t matter.
We reach our bedroom and I bring him to the end of the bed.
“Sit down.”
I kneel down and unlace his boots, removing them.
“Take off your shirt.”
Eric pulls at his tee and rakes it up over his head. I take it from him and lay it on the laundry basket.
I run my hands over his muscled chest and push him down on the bed.
“Scoot up.”
Eric inches up the bed and rests his head on the pillows.
“Shut your eyes.”
I run my hand up his left pant leg as I walk around to the head of the bed. Over his taut belly and chest, I trace my way.
I reach for his arm and pull it up to the rope. Expertly wrapping his wrist in the soft bind, I tie his left arm to the bed. He doesn’t flinch, but relaxes into it.
Half-tied would work for any other night. But not tonight.
I straddle his prone body and stretch his right arm up and out. The rope encompasses his wrist nicely, and he’s all mine—control relinquished. I smile.
“Whatever shall I do with you?”
Eric opens his eyes and smiles.
“As though it’s up to you,” I say before I lean in to kiss him.
I force my tongue into his mouth. Eric makes a delicious sound and I bite at his lips.
When he’s like this I could devour him. I chew on his lips and down his neck to his broad chest. His nipples are too tempting not to bite.
Eric sucks in air as I press down harder than usual on his right nipple. Under my hips, I feel his cock twitch in anticipation. I grind down against him to elicit a moan. I’m not sure from which of us it comes.
I’m tempted to simply strip him naked and ride his hard cock. But he needs so much more than that. He needs to lose control entirely.
Sliding down his body, I fuss with his belt buckle and pants. I take longer than necessary, to antagonize Eric. He begins to squirm under my hands, and I calmly place my hand on his belly to hold him still. He obeys.
I don’t like Eric to waste his energies fighting me. I want them saved up for an explosive come. He’s earned it.
Once I have his pants undone, I pull them down his strong legs and leave them in a pile on the floor. My lack of patience has me pulling at my negligee, half-tearing it before it hits the floor.
I crawl up the bed, treating myself to skin on skin.
I reach Eric’s cock and rub my cheek on its heated, smooth skin. I want him in my mouth, but I find the strength to move up and cradle his cock between my heavy breasts. I wrap him in my warm breasts and begin to stroke his hard length with them.
I could exist on the sounds coming from him—moans and sighs and intermittent pleas for carnal release.
“Not yet, baby,” I tell him. “I’m going to come first. You can watch if you want.”
I crawl up to nestle in the crook of his arm. It’s the next best thing to being held by him while I get off. I root up against him and moan at the heat of his chest pressed against my side.
I run my hands up my belly to my breasts and massage them painfully. I groan into Eric’s arm.
I look to him and he’s watching me with half-lidded eyes. They make me want to untie him and let him have at me. But that’s not in the plans.
I squeeze my nipples and then press three fingers into Eric’s mouth to gather his saliva.
“I’m getting off now.”
I split my pussy lips with my fingers and rub Eric’s spit into my cunt. The fire that jumps from clit to brain is outstanding.
I grind against my fingers and Eric’s side. He rubs his foot up my shin and the meager contact makes me jump.
I arch and wriggle until the raging orgasm comes to the surface.
I cry out with the first.
He will bring the next.
Gathering strength in my legs and facing his feet, I straddle Eric’s face.
“Make me come again,” I tell him.
Eric’s mouth makes contact with my cunt and I yelp. The second come rips through me just as my mouth reaches his cock.
Hard and hot, Eric’s cock fills my mouth. He starts to buck under me, trying to get stronger purchase on my pussy with his mouth, trying to get his cock deeper in my throat.
I pop up on all fours and growl. “No.”
Eric settles quickly into the bed. Only the tension in his feet betrays his false calm.
I flip around to his side and, holding his hips, take his cock in my mouth. He fills me perfectly to the point of gagging. But I’m controlling this show.
His salty pre-come slicks the back of my mouth and I circle his cock with my tongue.
I work his beautiful cock with my lips and mouth until I know he’s ready. So ready. But this will not be the end for him.
Popping him out of my mouth, I lean back on my hand and begin rubbing myself. I get so very close to coming, but save it for the very next moment.
In a swift motion, I stand Eric’s cock up and slide down on it. Impaled and filled.
This is when my Eric wants to fight the tethers. He’s told me he wants to grab me by the waist with his strong hands and force me down on him, fucking the living hell out of me. But he doesn’t get that today. Today, I will fuck him.
I move slowly and deliberately, taunting him with the idea of the pounding he really wants. Balanced on my thighs, I rise and fall on his cock—relishing the feel of him penetrating me.
The muscles of Eric’s arms tense and flex against the ropes. His hands pull at the tiny length of rope left to him. He thinks he wants to be free.
He is wrong.
He wants to let go and I will not stop until I have sucked the control from him.
“I’m going to come on your cock, darling,” I tell him.
I reach between my legs and feel the erect flesh inside me. It sends a thrill through me, and I take our fluids to rub into my clit. I buck and thrash on his body as I pull another come ou
t of me.
It’s time to take his.
I slide off my perfect perch and slip between his spread legs. His cock is straining against his belly and jumps when I wrap my hand around it. He’s so slick with my come, I can easily slide my hand along his length.
I put two fingers in my mouth and suck them slick. Pressing them to his anus, I push in as the stroking of his cock accelerates. Eric’s unearthly moans are my encouragement.
I pump his ass and cock simultaneously, knowing he will come soon. He will come and he will come hard.
For a moment, I’m tempted to take it all from him and make him wait through another orgasm of mine. But I desperately want to see the come ejaculate from his hardened cock.
I lean in and suck on his testicles and that does it.
Eric arches, his ass clamps down on my fingers, and his cock spurts out its contents all over his belly and chest.
Eric breathes hard with an occasional moan.
I slide my fingers from his ass and stroke his thigh as I sit up.
Admiring my handiwork and the art of his ejaculate on his torso, I relax. I crawl up the bed and tuck in against Eric’s heaving chest.
We rest like this until Eric’s breathing is under control. I reach for the tethers to release him.
In the morning light of our room, I hear, “Not yet. Please.”
It was an ugly night.
HER HERO
Catherine Paulssen
With a soft swish, the papers blew off the wall and swooshed back again. Holly looked up from the fresh Batman sheets she was putting on her son’s bed. Above the nightstand, Patrick had pinned newspaper articles and photographs of his dad and his unit. Engine 29 of the Eighth Battalion. Holly let her eyes wander over the cutouts.
Captain Nathan Keenan and Men of Engine 29 Awarded Medal of Valor
Mayor: First Responders’ Actions Nothing Short of Heroic
Firemen’s Ball Raises $25,000
A picture of Nathan and the men from his company—Tommy, Michael, Dion...their closest friends. So close, in fact, that each one of them was playing a role in raising Patrick.
A painting Patrick had made of his father in front of a burning building, holding a hose, fighting the flames.
A picture of all of them on St. Patrick’s Day: Tommy and his wife Linda; their neighbors, the O’Connells; Nathan’s parents, Michael and Dion, with their families. Nathan was hugging her from behind. Both of their faces held happy, proud smiles. It seemed long ago that they had been that carefree.
Then a photo of the day when Nathan had brought old Mrs. O’Connell’s cat down from a big oak tree in front of the neighbor’s house—as well as her grandson, who had gone up after Mitzi and then, just like the cat, didn’t dare to climb down again.
And the biggest photo of them all: Patrick wearing his dad’s helmet, Nathan standing next to him, his arm around Patrick. How they looked alike—Patrick a tiny version of his father, flax-haired, freckled, his blue eyes blinking into the camera from underneath the helmet’s rim. She had taken that picture the day Nathan made captain, two years ago. They had celebrated the promotion with a big barbecue. Their friends had all told her how proud she must be, all the women how lucky she was. It had made her glow with pride to know how much the men admired Nathan and how much the women envied her. And how could they not? He was a dedicated firefighter, he had a beefcake-calendar body, and he was a doting father.
Was he a good husband, too?
Holly straightened the blanket. Yes, yes he was. Every marriage went through tough times, she kept telling herself. And lately, they had hit theirs. However, she wasn’t going to let a few arguments and an intense workload get the better of their marriage. Tonight, for their eighth anniversary, she would surprise Nathan with a three-course dinner and whatever he wanted to do afterwards. Patrick was spending the night at his grandparents’ house, there would be champagne, and she had a new dress that made her feel like they were going on their first date again.
A few hours later, Holly sat in front of a cold asparagus risotto and melting crème brûlée. She watched the candles burn for a while. Drops of condensation ran down the bottle of champagne. Eventually she got up and started to clear the table. On her way to the kitchen, she caught a look of herself in the mirror. The dress looked foolish now.
She was about to go upstairs to change when the front door opened. Halfway up the stairs, she turned.
Nathan gave her a once-over. “You look beautiful.”
She shrugged.
He frowned, then his expression changed. “Today’s the nineteenth!” He dropped his keys on the table and walked over to her. “I’m so sorry. I tried to call but—”
“I put the phone on silent mode.”
“Look, there was an emergency at the firehouse, one of the rookies—”
She raised her hand. “There’s always something.”
He turned his eyes away.
“If you had taken that administrative job at the Commissioner’s off—”
“Holly, we discussed this.”
“No, you decided it wasn’t for you.”
“Because it isn’t!” He snorted. “I’m not one to sit behind a desk from nine to five.”
“You would’ve had more time for us. You’d be home in the evenings and on weekends.”
“You knew who I was before we married. I didn’t change.” She didn’t answer, and his voice was adamant when he added, “Don’t ask me to give up the job I love.”
“When did it become more important than us?”
“It’s not!” He took a step toward her, but stopped.
She could see she had hurt him, but she wasn’t willing to propitiate.
“You used to be proud of me.”
“I am,” she said.
He threw her a look.
“I am!”
He shook his head, then turned around, grabbing his keys. Holly winced when the door fell into the latch. She heard the car turn on and leave. She sat down on the stairs and cried.
When the hurt and anger had numbed a little, she walked upstairs and let herself fall into bed. She snuggled underneath the blanket and buried her face in his pillow, in his scent, and drifted away...
That’s when she heard his footsteps on the stairs, heard him entering the room. She felt his weight on the bed.
He pulled the sheets away and caressed her ankle. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She sat up. “I’m sorry too.”
His hand wandered up to the pit of her knee, and slowly, lovingly, he circled her skin with this thumb.
She pulled him close to her and pressed a kiss on his mouth. “Love me,” she said.
He undressed her except for her panties and laid her down. It had always been a turn-on for her to be naked in his arms while he was still dressed. She watched him watching her and rubbed her thigh against his denim pants. Nathan’s gaze wandered over the thin lace of her panties, then over her tummy to her breasts. He began to circle her navel with his fingers, tracing a line up her body. When he brushed her nipple with the sleeve of his woolen sweater, she shuddered. Satisfied with the reaction he evoked, he brushed her nipple again.
She made a little noise and he slid two of his fingers into her mouth. She obediently sucked at them and sighed when he pulled them away to swirl them on her nipple.
He pressed his fingertips against her lips once more and watched her run her tongue over them, then continued playing with her nipples, teasing her until she arched her back and squirmed.
Nathan leaned in, and when the prickly fabric of his sweater rubbed against her tender, hard tips, she purred. “Nate…fuck me now.”
He simply smirked. “Not yet, baby.”
Holly moaned as he buried his face between her legs and rubbed his nose against the wet spot on the crotch of her panties. He hooked one finger into her panties and tugged them down a bit. She closed her eyes when he kissed the patch of skin above her delta. He traced her hairline with kisses wh
ile caressing the insides of her thighs, then slipped off her panties.
Instead of caressing her pussy, he started drawing lazy circles around her breasts. He prodded her lips with his and kissed her again. She groaned as her nipples were licked, sucked, rubbed, kissed, flicked by his tongue and pinched between his fingers until they were dark and swollen.
She wriggled underneath him and nestled against his sweater. “Undress,” she breathed, and watched him taking off his clothes. Her finger ran over the scar where he had been injured on a rescue operation. She traced the hollow where his neck met his chest and the muscles of his arms, and kissed every inch of his skin from his hips to his armpit up to his neck.
She gasped when he rubbed her clit with his fingertip. His eyes held hers. She kissed him and wrapped her legs around his waist.
He stroked her flushed cheek. “I love you.” He eased his body into hers and thrusted until every fiber of her was humming and her mind was a blur. Nathan clutched the sheets between his fist and, with a long groan, sank down on her.
She placed a kiss on his shoulder, feeling warm and soft and heavy. With a content sigh on her lips, she snuggled her head against his chest. She heard him mumbling her name in the darkness. He continued to whisper words she had been longing to hear, and his voice carried her away as she drifted back into dreams.
Holly woke in an empty bed the next morning, her new dress still next to her. Her heart thudded. She’d only dreamed. She stretched and ran her fingers over the silken fabric. A little smile spread over her face...
It should have been their weekend. Just the two of them. She couldn’t let yet another fight get in the way of all she had imagined it to be. Or what she had dreamed it would be last night.
Certain Nathan had spent the night at the firehouse, she jumped into her car.
She drove into a bend. Sunlight blinked in the window of another car, flashing into her eyes, and the moment she realized the car in front was stopped, it was too late.
With screeching brakes, Holly crashed into the last of several cars bumped into each other ahead of her. The impact flung her forward; her car spun around and came to a halt. She felt the pressure of the airbag against her face, taking her breath away, before her body was hurled against the door as another car hit hers.
Smokin' Hot Firemen Page 17