"I said, take off your clothes. Don't make me angry, Steve dear."
His cock strained against his jeans. His knees went weak. She'd turned the tables. And holy shit, it turned him on.
Hoping his sight would adjust so he could make out more of her shape, he threw off his jacket and T-shirt. He kicked off his shoes, shoved his pants and underwear to the floor, then stepped out of them.
"Not bad,” she said, her voice husky, so fucking erotic. “I think you'll do."
He swallowed, wondering if he'd come before he even saw her. That voice alone made him lose control. It already had, twice, over the phone while he was away.
"Get on the bed."
He nearly dove for it, ready to beg her for whatever she was willing to give. But this was her game, and a little anticipation wouldn't hurt. He stood still and waited.
"I said, Steve dear, get on the fucking bed."
His balls tightened, cum pressing at the base of his dick. He moved to the bed, gritting his teeth so he wouldn't lose his load before she touched him. He stretched out on his side, facing her, trying to focus on her, wishing he could change the candles’ flicker into a spotlight. What the hell was she wearing?
"On your back."
He reached down and wrapped his hand around his cock, pressing against his balls to hold back his release.
"Get your hand off yourself, you dirty man."
"Make me,” he dared her.
She stepped into the candlelight.
"Oh, God,” he groaned. The sight of her ... He had to squeeze his eyes shut and concentrate with all his might not to go over the edge.
"I said, Steve dear, get your hands off yourself. Now."
He couldn't. If he let go, he'd explode.
The bed dipped slightly, and he opened his eyes in time to see her leaning over him. Black leather straps crisscrossed over her tiny waist and between her breasts. The thinnest strap of leather he'd ever seen covered her pussy. Her lips were painted deep red, her eyes outlined in black. White teeth flashed before she bit down on his nipple.
"Hey!” he shouted and jerked his hand off his cock.
A deep throaty laugh came from her, a dark and carnal sound he'd never heard before.
"Behave, Steve dear, or I'll be forced to hurt you."
Her finger trailed from his throbbing nipple, down the center of his abs, over the tip of his penis. It jumped and his balls tightened painfully. “I'm going to come any second,” he warned.
One shapely eyebrow rose as she looked down at him. “You think so?"
No doubt about it. He nodded.
She leaned over and went for his nipple again. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain. Instead, she lightly swirled her tongue around it.
Sucking in a deep breath, he prayed he could hold off just a few minutes longer. He wanted to let her have her fun. But sonofabitch, he'd never seen anything sexier than his Gracie in black leather
"Have you been a bad, bad man?” she asked in that voice that was some other Gracie. Her lips closed over his other nipple, and his hips thrust his dick into the air.
"Yes,” he groaned
"Do you need to be punished?"
"Yes, ma'am.” He gripped the slippery sheet to keep from grabbing her.
"I thought so."
In one smooth motion, she threw her leg over him, her ass right in his face. Oh dear God, she wore black knee-high boots with fuck-me heels.
"Eat me,” she commanded as she shoved her hot pussy onto his face.
He brought his hands up, spread her cheeks, pulled the leather thong to the side and licked her from clit to asshole.
She let out an animal cry.
"Again!” she demanded.
He shoved his tongue inside her and pinched her clit between his fingers.
She came instantly with a scream and a gush of hot juice on his face.
Instead of collapsing on top of him, as he feared she'd do, her lips closed over the tip of his cock, and she pressed at that awesome spot below his balls.
His body went rigid and there was no holding back. With a roar, his seed shot into her mouth. Her hot lips clamped over him, taking it all down her throat. When he was fully spent, she licked him clean.
After a few moments, she moved her ass out of his face. Not that he'd minded it there. She had one fine ass.
He couldn't move. Every muscle in his body had turned to gelatin.
She turned around and came up beside him, reached over him and drew a few tissues from the box on the nightstand. She grinned and wiped the moisture from his face. “Welcome home, Steve dear."
All he could do was gaze at her. Her hair was the color of dark cedar in the candlelight. Her eyes glowed with heat and...
"Come here,” he whispered.
She leaned into him, her booted leg going over his thighs.
"Closer."
Her face neared within inches of his.
He cupped her cheeks, pushing the bangs off her forehead. Nothing was left of her car wreck except a one-inch scar close to her hairline. “Closer,” he said, and pulled her down on top of him, capturing her mouth with his. He groaned when he tasted himself on her tongue.
Her hands delved into his hair, her fingers fisting and tugging. She was wild, still ready for more.
He rolled her over, coming down on top of her, their mouths never separating.
Her nails scored his shoulders, back, and his dick stirred to life. My God, he thought as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head. Never in all his life had a woman turned him on as much, as fast, as Gracie could.
She bit his bottom lip and playfully fought his grip, but he held her down. Game over. My turn. He thrust his semi-erect cock into her.
"That all you got?” she said with a giggle.
He chuckled.
On the next stroke, he was fully hard. The third time he slammed into her.
"Much better, bad man."
He released her wrists and grabbed her thighs, bringing her legs over his shoulders. He ground his hips against her, fully embedded in her tight pussy.
Her eyelids drifted shut. Her mouth dropped open. Steve grinned in triumph. This time he'd make it last as long as she needed. He swirled his hips in a circle, and her breath caught for an instant.
"Like that, Gracie dear?"
"Y-yesss."
He levered himself up on his knees and shoved one of those big pillows under her ass.
"Take more."
Gripping her thighs, he rammed into her hard and fast, loving her with everything he had to give.
She gripped the headboard and took all of him. When she climaxed, her cry was primal. As her inner muscles worked his cock, he rode her orgasm, withholding his own release. When her body went limp, he pulled the pillow out from beneath her, lowered her legs from his shoulders and remaining embedded in her sweet body, he gathered her into his arms.
Her short pants were hot on his face.
Still he waited.
Her heartbeat thudded against his chest.
He waited.
Finally, when the little electric-like pulses around his hard cock subsided, her eyelids fluttered open. She gazed up at him with the most gorgeous eyes on earth.
"I love you, Gracie dear."
Her eyes widened. Her body tensed. “Orange."
Chapter Eleven
Steve paced the length of the bay next to Ladder Truck Two, and silently called himself every kind of jackass and fool, then made up some more names for good measure.
Six days since that disastrous night in Gracie's bed. One hundred and forty-six hours since she threw him out of her house, practically naked, and told him the game was over.
Hadn't some know-it-all sex therapist said women wanted words of endearment? They needed to know the man cared for more than their bodies?
He snorted.
Whoever had come up with that load of crap had never met his Gracie.
He'd left countless messages on her answering m
achine explaining that what he'd said hadn't been part of any game. He did love her. He wanted a future with her.
She hadn't returned his calls. The one time he'd waited outside her house until nearly eleven o'clock at night, she'd walked right past him with nothing more than a glare in his direction, refusing to listen to anything he had to say.
He sent her more flowers. He found them sitting on his welcome mat, frozen and wilted when he got home.
He'd written her a letter. He found it taped to his front door, unopened.
What the fuck was he supposed to do to get her to talk to him? To at least explain to him why she was so dead set against a real relationship?
He slashed his fingers through his hair in frustration. Goddamn women. Why'd they have to make everything so fucking complicated?
The tones sounded just as Rick Johnson, the probie in charge of monitoring the radio, called out, “Lieutenant. Call coming in."
Steve hit the alarm on the wall and jerked open the door to the truck. “815 Walkinton Street. Structure fire. All stations respond,” came over the radio.
His crew filed out the door, all going for their turnout suits hanging on the wall in the bay. He picked up the radio and called in his response, then grabbed his turnout.
"Toby, you drive."
"Yes, sir!"
"Sounds like a bad one,” Keith added.
"Let's roll,” Steve called and climbed into the truck.
* * * *
The fucking phone rang again.
Sitting in the middle of her bed grading homework, Gracie ignored the insistent jangle. How much more unsubtle could she be? Why couldn't the man get it through his thick skull that she didn't want to talk to him or see him? Was she going to have to go get a restraining order to get him to leave her the hell alone?
Jeez, she thought, was he an idiot? Plain as day she'd laid it out to him the morning after their first night together. She didn't want long-term. Not with him. He'd agreed, but then went and changed all the rules.
Didn't he realize how much this was killing her? To pretend he wasn't leaving all those sweet messages on her machine? The flowers? She'd been so damned tempted to open that envelope and read his words to her, but she'd denied herself. Sent it back unopened. Couldn't handle any more pain to her battered heart.
Why the hell couldn't he have been an accountant or even a factory worker? Something that wouldn't kill him before he hit forty? Better to get over him now than after they were married and had a couple kids. Better to have a bruised heart now rather than one so shattered by his death that it could never be repaired. She couldn't risk that.
The ringing stopped as the answering machine picked up the call. It wasn't Steve's voice this time, but Carol's. “Gracie, sweetie, if you're home, pick up."
Gracie grabbed the phone by the bed. “I'm here, just avoiding one no good—"
"Turn on channel nine."
"Huh?"
"Channel nine. The news."
"Hold on. Gotta change phones.” Gracie set the receiver on the nightstand and went into the living room, picked up the portable phone, then clicked the TV on with the remote.
For an instant, the video looked like more footage of 9-11. But then the camera panned the scene, and she saw the Cooper Valley retirement complex going up in flames. “Holy shit,” she said into the phone.
"Gracie,” Carol said softly. “Turn up the volume."
She hit the control and listened.
"To recap our top story,” the newscaster announced, “three firefighters are still trapped inside. All from Cooper Valley Ladder Company Two."
"Oh God..."
The monotone report continued. “An anonymous source tells us they are identified as Fire Fighters Toby Angel and Keith Campbell, and Lieutenant Steve Sheldon. Crews here are working hard to get them out, but so far there's no word yet on their condition, and the fire continues to rage out of control."
"No,” Gracie collapsed onto the couch as her legs gave way. “No!"
"Gracie, honey..."
Tears blurred her vision. “Dear God, please. No."
"Gracie—"
She dropped the phone and surged to her feet. After a wild search for shoes and her coat, she grabbed her keys and dashed out the front door.
She climbed behind the wheel of her shiny new SUV and cranked the engine. She had to get to him. She had to tell him. “Oh, God, please don't let it be too late!"
Driving too fast, she swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. He had to be alive. He had to be. She couldn't lose him. She couldn't!
A block away from the retirement complex, authorities had closed the street. She brought the SUV to a screeching halt and vaulted out of it, running around the barricades toward the burning building.
Fire trucks sprayed water from four directions onto the building. Red and blue lights from ambulances, more fire trucks, police cruisers and EMT units flashed blindingly bright.
As she shoved past a group of onlookers, a thick arm wound around her waist, pinning her to a solid wall of a man. She screamed and kicked.
"Let me go! He's in there, he's in there!” She clawed at the gloved hand around her middle.
"Easy now. All of the residents have been safely accounted for."
Struggling harder, she screamed, “You don't understand. I've got to get him out!"
"Who?"
"Steve! Let go!” She kicked backwards, but her foot glanced off a heavy boot.
"Ma'am, please calm down."
"Steve!” she screamed. “Steve Sheldon the fire fighter. He's in there.” She pointed at the building.
The man said something else but a sudden explosion blocked out any words she may have heard. In stunned horror, she watched as the building caved in on itself. The roof, normally four floors high, crashed onto the second floor.
"Oh, God.” She quit struggling against the man's grip. She'd lost another hero. “You fucking son of a bitch,” she accused the man as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Ma'am.” The man's gloved hands went to her shoulders, turned her to face him. He was a uniformed officer, but she couldn't see his face through her tears. “Ma'am. Listen to me."
She slid to the ground, her legs unable to hold her up any longer. He knelt beside her trying to talk to her as she sobbed.
In a blink of an eye. Gone. Anyone at any time, no matter what they did for a living. She could have died in that car crash. Steve could have died crossing the street instead of in a burning building.
Time was so short. So fragile. How many hours had she thrown away that she could've spent in his arms? All those days she could've shared with him, but no. She'd been afraid of this, scared of losing him and being hurt. Now, she was hurt anyway.
"Oh God."
Her last words to him had been so mean. So cold.
Now, he'd never know how much she loved him.
* * * *
Steve sat on the running board of the fire truck and sucked in the oxygen from the mask he held over his face. His throat ached, his lungs burned as if they were on fire. He closed his eyes, but that couldn't stop the sting that made them water.
He'd taken off his respirator and given it to a little old lady just before the ceiling on the first floor began to fall in. If Toby and Keith hadn't dragged his ass out of there, he would've been toast by now.
"Lieutenant?"
He lifted his head and saw Johnson. Thank God he hadn't sent the probie instead of going in himself.
"There's a commotion over there.” Johnson pointed toward a group of uniformed officers. “They're looking for you."
He pulled the mask away from his face long enough to croak out, “Send ‘em over.” Then he closed his eyes as he sucked in more oxygen.
"Steve!"
Gracie? He pried his eyes open, but his vision was blurry.
"Oh, God!” She threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I thought you were dead,” she said between sobs. “I thought you were dea
d."
He dropped the oxygen mask and wrapped his arms around her. “I'm fine.” His voice sounded like gravel rubbing together.
"I don't want to love you. I never wanted to love you.” She kissed his ear, his cheek, his forehead. “You're a goddamned hero. I don't want a hero. Heroes die.” Her lips grazed his chin, his jaw. “But damn you. Damn you."
He captured her head in his hands and pulled her back so he could see her face. Her pink jacket was soot-smudged from his turnout. Her face had black streaks from his own skin. “Gracie dear—” A fit of coughing cut off his words.
The oxygen mask was shoved back on his face, and he glanced up to see Toby standing next to him. “Take it easy there, Lieutenant."
"He's hurt,” Gracie told Toby, cradling Steve's head against her breasts. “He needs a doctor.” The words came out in a high-pitched panic.
Steve closed his eyes and took hold of the oxygen mask. He felt like shit, but Gracie felt good.
"He just inhaled some smoke. He'll be okay soon,” Toby said, then leaned over and peered into Steve's face. Steve gave him a weak smile, and Toby grinned. It'd be a hell of a long time before Steve lived down the fact that he let a woman coddle him during a fire. “Chief's here. Says to get your sorry ass to the hospital to get checked out."
Steve nodded. He turned his face up to look at Gracie. Tears streaked down her face and she kept touching his hair and cheek as if she needed the contact to know he was real.
"I love you,” she whispered in his ear. “I didn't want to, but I do."
He pulled the mask away from his face and threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her mouth down to his. She was sweet and fresh compared to the acrid taste of smoke in his nostrils and mouth. With his other hand he cupped her ass and pulled her tight against him.
Wolf calls and cheers went up around them, but he ignored the men. Gracie was all that mattered right this second.
She slowly drew her mouth from his, cradled his cheeks in her hands. “I've never been so scared in my life,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “I want you, Gracie.” He swallowed hard. “I love you with all my heart, but this is my calling. It's in my blood. It's what I do."
She gazed into his eyes. “I know."
"No one knows what tomorrow will bring."
Five Alarm Neighbor Page 7