Smokin' Hot Firemen

by Delilah Devlin, Jo Davis

  “Fifteen,” I squealed.

  “Yeah, let’s finish this up,” he said, his voice gruff now.

  Swats landed on both cheeks, then against the backs of my thighs. I lost count and repeated a number, but he didn’t seem to mind I was mathematically challenged. His chuckle made me wetter.

  I skipped. “Twenty-five!” I screamed.

  Laughter fell all around us. Fingers pulled up my panties, pushed down my skirt to cover my bottom. Biker dude grabbed my hand and dragged me up to stand beside him, an arm around my waist. He must have sensed my knees were weak, because right when I started to crumple, he held me against his side, turning me to the audience.

  The women were laughing, clapping, but I didn’t care. I glanced behind me at Johnny Blaze, no, Cooper James, who pushed off his chair. My tongue thickened. Was that drool pooling in my mouth? Lord, he was a beautiful man—all hard angles and thick muscles with dark, short-cropped hair and wicked eyes.

  Brady leaned toward my ear. “You gonna fall on your ass if I let you go?”

  I snorted. “If I do, it’s padded.”

  His smile flashed. “Padded just right. You ask Coop. You didn’t see his face, but he ‘bout died when he bared it.”

  I swallowed hard, forced a smile, and gave a small bow to the crowd. I took a step, but a hand gripped my forearm and swung me. Before I knew it, my ass was in the air again, my body bent over a broad shoulder. Glancing down, I didn’t need to see the yellow pants to know whose hard ass had me.

  The walk through the curtains and down the hallway behind it was brisk. “Is there a fire?” I asked, bouncing on his hard shoulder.

  “Yeah, in my pants.”

  I barked a hoarse laugh. “You can put me down now.”

  “We’re not there yet.”

  The loud crash of the emergency door opening at the end of the corridor was the first indicator that Coop had something besides finishing my birthday-girl spanks on his mind. He strode into the parking lot.

  I pushed against the sexy small of his back and tried to look around him. He was heading for a shiny red pickup. His. I knew because I’d watched him peel out of the station’s parking lot often enough.

  A door slammed open and he dumped me on the edge of the seat, then tucked my legs inside. “Get your belt on.”

  Had to admit, the gruff texture of his voice as he barked orders turned me on. I reached for the belt and buckled in, watching as he walked quickly around the front of the truck and climbed into the cab beside me.

  With his head and chest bare, suspenders covering his nipples, I could barely draw a deep breath. And I needed it. My mind was whirling, my body humming with excitement. “Syl tell you to show me a good time? Does she pimp you out to all the girls?”

  “You have a smart mouth,” he said, starting the ignition and putting the truck in reverse. The tires screamed as he pulled quickly out of the lot and hooked a left toward the highway and our own small town. “Makes me think of all the ways I want to stuff it.”

  My jaw sagged. “That how you talk to your girlfriends? No wonder you’re single.”

  “No, just to you. I’m going to be very clear. Don’t want to start this thing without you understanding a few things first.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and lifted my chin. “Like?”

  His glance darted from the road to me. “Like, I want your bare cheeks on my leather seat.”

  My expression must have been every bit as outraged as I felt.

  His mouth twitched, then flattened. “Now, Bridget. Ass on leather. Now.”

  So you have to be wondering why I didn’t just tell him to fuck himself. I wanted to. But as soon as I thought the words, I knew I wanted the arrogant jerk to fuck me. Hard. Every way I’d always imagined.

  He knew I was hot. I knew he was hard. There was no mistaking what tented his pants. And I wanted all that stuffed inside me. Right then. I eased up and slipped off my panties, then pulled my skirt up in the back where it bunched. My ass sat on the cool seat, and my excitement leaked onto the leather.

  “Pull it up in front,” he said. “I want to see your pussy.”

  No protest from me there. I wanted him to see it, too. I pulled up my skirt, tucking it under the belt to keep it high, then went a step farther and opened my legs.

  Leaning back, I gripped the belt above my shoulder and held very still, wondering what he’d do next, not believing that I was sitting beside my fireman, my lower half completely exposed. My breasts tingled, the tips pushing against my lacy bra. My pussy clenched.

  His lack of reaction had my breath leaving in a slow disappointed drain.

  But then the truck veered off the road.

  I screamed and grabbed for the dashboard.He pulled quickly onto a gravel road, drove another thirty feet, then slammed the brakes.

  My body jerked forward and back. Before I’d righted myself, he was out the door and stomping around the front. My door slammed open, his hands released the buckle then turned my body to face him, spreading my legs.

  Just when I wondered if he was a serial killer who’d found just the right spot to bury me, he climbed onto the truck rail and leaned inside. His hands clutched the back of my head and his mouth met mine in a fierce, blistering kiss.

  I dug my fingers into his hot shoulders and held on. He rocked into me, his bare chest gliding against my clothing, and it wasn’t enough. I pulled back. “Please.”

  His eyes closed. He drew a deep breath then leaned his forehead against mine. “Back at my house,” he whispered harshly, “I have the AC cranked low enough we can start a fire in the hearth. I have candles ready to be lit. Wine on the hearth with two glasses. Birthday cake in the fridge. I’ll give you roses, make it sweet...like you deserve.” His eyes opened, his gaze boring into mine. “But right now, Bridget, I need your hot pussy on my dick.”

  I gasped, then gave a sharp laugh. “I don’t think a man has ever said anything that crass to me before.”

  “Sorry, but I’m so hard right now, I can’t think.”

  I smiled. “Didn’t say I didn’t like it...”

  His head tilted. A grin stretched. “Scoot that butt off my leather. You’re gettin’ it wet.”

  I ducked my head and flirted from beneath my eyelashes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make a mess.”

  “Yes, you did,” he said tapping my nose. “But I won’t spank you again—if you do what I say. Scootch.”

  I edged closer.

  His hands reached around me and cupped my buttocks. He stepped down, bringing me with him.

  I snaked my arms around his shoulders. “I’m too heavy for this,” I said, thankful for the moonlight so he couldn’t see my mortified blush.

  “Baby, I can handle you. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not little.”

  “No, you’re not. But I like your curves, I like your soft ass. I can’t wait to fuck it, make you howl—but that’ll come another time.”

  My mouth dropped open, and I shook my head. “Again, no man’s ever been that rude to me.”

  “Honest, baby. I’ll always give you that. I like your fleshy body. Like the way you bounce, all over, when you walk. It’s my thing. Syl knows. I’ve been hot for you since the first day I saw you walkin’ up the library steps. Knew I had to have that ass.”

  Caught between dismay and a strange, shuddering joy, I readjusted my grip on his shoulders. “Hurt your back and I won’t be happy.”

  “Afraid you’ll put me out of action?”

  Laughing, I lifted my chin. “You want this ass? Well, I want something of yours too.”

  He jostled me, gripping my bottom hard, as he ground his cock against my spread lips. “Am I lucky enough you want this?”

  I gave him a narrowed glance. “I have to warn you. I read.”

  His eyelids dipped, his smile broadening. “Got some fantasies I can help you with?”

  “A few.” Okay, a lot. But that was for later, too. Once I knew him well enough, and once he wasn’t l
ooking right at me when I told him. “We have a problem,” I said, walking my fingers across one sturdy shoulder.

  “Do we?”

  “You forgot something.”

  “I have condoms in the glove box, but Syl told me you’re on the pill. I’m clean, sweetheart. Clean bill from my new-hire physical. She can show you.”

  Nice having a friend who works for the town’s HR. “Not the problem I was talking about, but good to know.”

  “Then what? Got a boyfriend I need to help you lose?”

  “You know I don’t. I’m not exactly every man’s dream girl.”

  “Baby, you’re my wet dream.” When I gave him a doubtful glare, he tsked. “I won’t ever lie. I want you, Bridget Luckadoo. Fact, is I like everything I know about you, everything I’ve seen. I’ve waited so long for a chance at you, I’m barely civilized.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You still have your pants on.”

  “You know what to do. I’ll just lean you against the truck...”

  He did. I pushed his suspenders off one shoulder, then the other. He bent his chest to brace me and leaned his hips away as I clumsily shoved down his pants.

  Lord, he hadn’t been wearing anything under them all that time. “What the hell? If you’d danced...”

  “I had no intention of dancing for anyone but you.”

  Now that his important bits were naked, I wasn’t in such a hurry. “What were you doing on that stage anyway?”

  “Used to strip when I was going to school. I was young. It was easy money.” He shrugged. “I still have friends. They helped me set this up.”

  “You went to a lot of trouble.”

  “I wanted to make an impression.”

  I waggled my eyebrows. “You did.”

  He gripped my bottom, fingers digging into my still-warm skin. I gave a gasp, but smiled to let him know I liked it.

  “The shirt—your bra, too—lose ’em.” I hastily followed his orders, and then gasped when air trailed over my tightly budded nipples.

  “No comin’ ’til I say so,” he growled, his gaze flickering over my naked chest.

  Instead of sliding me down his dick, he stepped up again and laid me on the leather seat. My back slid on the wet spot I’d made. His hands pushed my thighs up and over his shoulders, then smoothed up the insides, stroking my knees, my soft inner thighs, halting right beneath my shaved pussy.

  His thumbs opened me, and he bent and blew a stream of air across my wet flesh.

  I clenched, my cunt making a lewdly juicy sound.

  Coop growled and ducked his head. His mouth closed over my swollen lips and sucked, tongue darting out to skim between my folds. When he flicked my clit I gasped and bucked, my fingers digging into his thick hair.

  He shook his head and I eased my grip. He leaned back, his dark gaze glittering. “Now, these are the spanks I really wanted to give you.” He raised a hand and slapped my open cunt.

  The impact shocked and thrilled me. His large hand covered my entire sex. His fingers slammed my cloaked clit. Again and again he slapped, the sounds sharper, the sting growing hotter. My sex swelled. My gasps became weak, mewling cries, and my bottom bounced on the leather as he drove me closer and closer to completion.

  When he dragged his wet palm away, his nostrils were flared, his jaw tight and sharp enough to cut. He wiped his fingertips on my nipples, then with a groan leaned over me to draw one into his mouth.

  There was nothing gentle about the way he gobbled me up. He was so eager, so rough, I nearly came from his strong, suctioning pulls.

  He gave me a nip, then backed away, chest billowing as though he’d run a race.

  My glance roamed his heaving, sweat-slicked chest, his taut muscled abs, then dropped to his cock.

  His glance dropped, and his smile was crooked as he gave himself one long stroke. His erection was massive—thick and long, the head blunt and fat.

  “Turn. Bend over the seat.”

  My glance flew up to lock with his. There wasn’t an ounce of mercy in his taut face. Beyond worrying whether he’d like the view, I did as he commanded, clumsy in my eagerness to obey. His hands guided me until I stood on the rail, my ass out the door but my torso draped on the seat.

  Hands gripped my bottom, parted my cheeks.

  I held my breath. When the thick, bulbous head butted against my pussy, I groaned and opened my stance, inviting him deeper.

  He popped my ass with a sharp slap, then drove deep, burrowing his big cock inside.

  Swollen, hot, and drenched, my pussy clenched around him, already rippling with the first vibrations of a cosmic orgasm.

  “Not ’til I say so,” he whispered behind me.

  I shook my head and groaned. “Can’t stop it.”

  “You’ll learn.”

  Lord, when he said things like that—as if we’d do this again, as if he meant to teach me something, about him, about me, I really couldn’t help it.

  Liquid gushed, coating his thick shaft, and he began to move, his motions strong and rhythmic. He pulled my hips and my back dipped, giving him a better angle to slam into me. His strokes quickened, sharpened, until our bodies slapped together, making lush wet sounds that added to the other noises we made...grunting, groaning, my excited mewls growing more shrill, until I broke.

  I keened, pushing up as he powered into me, building a scalding friction that prolonged my orgasm, my breaths chopped apart by his jackhammer thrusts.

  His muffled shout followed. Scalding spurts bathed my channel and trickled down to wet my mound. His strokes slowed until he rocked gently against me, as though he didn’t want the pleasure to end.

  When he pulled free, I slumped against the seat. But he didn’t let me linger there. Again, his strong hands moved me, turning me to face him. He pushed his still-hard cock back inside, then raised me up and slid me off the seat and into his arms.

  He stood in the moonlight, hugging me close, our bodies still connected, not a single sign of strain tightening his features. “Told you I could handle you,” he said, his voice gruff again. “You okay?”

  I grinned and leaned toward him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his trim hips. “Best birthday ever.”

  “And we still have that fire to burn.” His smile was warm and wide. “Wonder how we’ll top it next year...”

  But I read. I have a few ideas.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  CYNTHIA D’ALBA started writing on a challenge from her husband and discovered having imaginary sex with lots of hunky men was fun. Her first book, Texas Two Step, was released in 2012 and became a publisher bestseller.

  ADELE DUBOIS is happiest when driving her convertible with the top down. She is a multi-published, award-winning author of erotic romance novels, novellas, and short stories. When not at the beach, Adele and her Navy-hero husband enjoy their eastern Pennsylvania home, where she is working on her next novel.

  SHOSHANNA EVERS is a critically acclaimed, bestselling romance author. She is published with Simon & Schuster/Gallery, Ellora’s Cave, and Penguin/Berkley Heat (Agony/Ecstasy), and her work is in several Cleis Press anthologies (including Best Bondage Erotica 2012 and 2013). She lives in Los Angeles with her family and two big dogs.

  ROWAN ELIZABETH has enjoyed sharing her naughty ideas for almost eight years. Published with Susie Bright, Cleis Press, Naughty Nights Press, and MuseItUp Publishing, Rowan has been having a great deal of fun.

  RACHEL FIRASEK normally pens paranormal romances, but couldn’t miss the chance to play with a smokin’ hot fireman.

  CATHRYN FOX, realizing the corporate life wasn’t for her and needing an outlet for her creative energy, turned in her calculator and briefcase and began writing erotic romance full time. Cathryn writes paranormal and contemporary stories from her home office in Eastern Canada.

  ILY GOYANES is a writer, editor, publisher, and miscreant. Her work has appeared in several anthologies, including Best Lesbian Erotica 2012, and she is the editor of Power Plays
(Ampersand Editions) and Girls Who Score: Hot Lesbian Erotica (Cleis Press).

  NANETTE GUADIANO is a writer whose poetry has appeared in numerous literary publications. Her prose and fiction have appeared in publications including Fifteen Candles (HarperCollins, 2007) and You Don’t Have a Clue (Arte Publico Press, 2010). She loves Italy and firemen; her story is a tribute to both.

  TAHIRA IQBAL has been writing since she can remember. Her work went from thrillers to romances, until she realized she could merge the two. Drama, danger, and sex in good, measured doses is what she writes best.

  ELLE JAMES, at home in Northwest Arkansas, is busy writing tales of murder and suspense for Harlequin Intrigue. Her first Harlequin, Beneath the Texas Moon, was released in March 2006 and was a Romantic Times Top Pick! She’s since written numerous intrigues, and is now writing for Harlequin Nocturne.

  M. MARIE lives in the heart of downtown Toronto, Canada. This passionate young Canadian is soft-spoken, inquisitive, and addicted to art, writing, and videogames. She is also too embarrassed to ever admit how much of her story is based on a real experience—and a real cat.

  CATHERINE PAULSSEN’s stories have appeared in Best Lesbian Romance 2012 and Girl Fever, in Silver Publishing’s Dreaming of a White Christmas series, and in anthologies by Ravenous Romance and Constable & Robinson.

  LYNN TOWNSEND is a geek, a mother, a dreamer, and the proud owner of a small black hole residing under her desk that tends to eat kittens, odd socks, staplers, and her car keys. Her work has been published with Cleis, Torquere, and PriveCo.

  KALISSA WAYNE has always been a writer. Since the tender age of twelve she has written stories that spoke to her heart. She is still following that dream. Kalissa lives in southern Louisiana with her husband of thirteen years, BB, and struggles with being a Yankee living in Cajun country.