Burn

by Shey Stahl

  It takes me a second to adjust to him, but when I do, he moves inside of me. It’s everything and so much more than I had imagined this last week. The buildup from last night to this morning has amplified this rush of emotions to the point where I’m gasping for a breath of air only he can give me.

  I’m sure he’s never fucked a woman like this before because if he had, he’d have a harem of women around him every second of the day with their legs spread, begging for more.

  Cursing under his breath, Caleb slams into me, over and over again, knocking over mops, brooms . . . Hell, anything within a two-foot radius of us is either broken or on the ground.

  Inside of me, lightning spreads through my veins, sending every nerve reacting to his hungry kisses and the impatient way he can’t seem to stop himself.

  Shocking evergreen eyes so lust-stricken they appear black, lock on mine. It’s the way he’s watching me with a darkness that sets my body on fire, and the way his chest flexes with each movement, the muscles in his stomach contracting, letting go, contracting again, like a shock absorbing motion.

  My hands go wild, tugging at his shoulders in an attempt to have him closer, scratching at his skin, leaving red marks in their wake.

  Caleb doesn’t even flinch.

  Even when I see blood from my nails, he doesn’t seem to care.

  “Let go, now,” he demands, voice gravelly, squeezing my hips so hard I can feel the muscles in my thighs protesting against it, screaming to let go. “Or I’m going to come before you do. And if I do, I’m going to pull out before that happens and make you fuckin’ drink it.”

  Oh shit. And why do I want to see that happen?

  His words hit me right between the legs as I toss my head back against the wall as pleasure shoots through my nerves. It rocks through me, everywhere, all at once, nearly blinding. I can’t open my eyes, let alone see Caleb’s face, but I notice the hitch in his breathing when he gasps as he pushes himself deeper, his body tensing and then he pulls out and rips the condom off and tosses it on the floor.

  I’m alarmed at the change and want to tell him he’s smoking french fry crack if he thinks he’s going to come inside of me without a condom on. But when he pushes down on my shoulders, I understand what he’s doing. He wants to finish in my mouth, and I’m not sure how I feel about that because hello, he was just inside of me.

  Maybe I’m caught up in the moment, but I do it without objection and slide myself back down the wall to my knees.

  Another reason why keeping the heels on were a good idea. It’s a lot easier when squatting.

  He’s worked up for sure, and it doesn’t take long. I know when he’s close, his quick thrusts and the swell of his cock and then his body stiffens, his hands halting my movements.

  Caleb’s hands find their way to my hair to hold my head still as he comes, his body convulsing and jerking. A thrill shoots through me that I’ve done this to him. I’ve given him pleasure and made him react in this way. I’ve made him obsess over this so much he couldn’t wait until tonight and had to come find me for this. My logic might be slightly off here, but it’s totally worth it.

  Not the taste. It tastes horrible, by the way. But because it’s him, I take every last bit in my mouth like I’m dying for it and then I lick his cock from the base all the way to the tip without saying anything.

  I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten it all. When I glance up at him, his hard body curves over mine. Our eyes meet, and his expression shoots a wave of pleasure through me.

  He lets out a heavy breath, like he’d been holding it and reaches for his jeans.

  I have no words. My throat actually hurts. Maybe I can’t talk now.

  Eventually I say, “Holy shit.” And touch my mouth, the tips of my fingers gliding over my swollen lips, unbelieving I just did that. “I think I have a fat lip.”

  He winks, tossing my panties from the door handle at me. “You’re welcome.”

  Goddamn him. Who knew the hottest sex of my life would be in a storage closet with a mop next to my head.

  When we’re fully dressed and standing at the door, Caleb’s thumb runs over my cheek. “I can’t tell you how fuckin’ sexy that was.”

  “It’s Mila.” I can’t even keep a straight face. “You’re welcome, Mila.”

  He laughs. Full on laughs at me. “Yeah, okay.”

  Outside the door, I’m panicking trying to make sure my clothes aren’t wrinkled and I don’t have mascara all over my face.

  “Do I have mascara running down my face?”

  Caleb stares at me. “Yes.”

  “Shit.” And then I notice he’s fastening his belt still.

  “You couldn’t have buttoned your pants in the closet?”

  He grins breathing heavily into my neck, refusing to let go of me now. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re such a boy.”

  Before I even get the word boy out, he has me pressed against the door to the closet, his hard body fully in line with mine again. “I think we’d both agree I proved I’m more than just a boy.” And then his lips are on mine delivering a kiss a boy could never pull off. He deepens it by cupping my cheeks with both hands, and I let him because I can’t stop myself when it comes to him.

  That is until someone clears their throat and I nearly bite off Caleb’s tongue trying to pull away.

  “Sorry to interrupt.”

  Motherfucker. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Nixon. I know that gravelly tone anywhere.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Nixon looks at Caleb, his jaw clenching. “Who are you?”

  Caleb fucking smirks but doesn’t say anything and casually leans into the wall with one shoulder. I look to Caleb, who appears to have no intention of answering him, and then back to Nixon.

  “Do you need something?” I ask, taking a step toward Nixon.

  His eyes don’t leave Caleb’s when he says, “I was looking for you.”

  “Found her,” Caleb says, choosing then to finally speak.

  Nixon’s intense stare narrows and then moves to mine. “Have you been crying?”

  “No. What do you need? I have a meeting.”

  “We need into the Evergreen room, and it’s locked. Tom said you had the keys.”

  Crap. Fuck. Balls.

  I did have them and guess where they’re at now? On the floor in the closet. Behind the locked door.

  I cringe, and Caleb laughs, knowing what just happened. “It’s a good thing I like breaking doors down.”

  “No!” I panic grabbing him by the shirt. “You can’t break that door down.”

  “And how else do you suppose you get in there for the keys?”

  My brain scrambles for an answer and Nixon sighs heavily behind me. “I’ll just go ask your father, Mila. I’m sure being the owner of the hotel, he has a spare set.”

  I really want to stab him in the fucking eyes.

  Nixon smiles at me, knowing damn well he’s pissed me off, and then to Caleb. “No need to break the door down. We’ve got it handled.” And then he digs into his pocket for his cell phone.

  Caleb doesn’t miss a beat and gives a cocky nod and throws his muscle-bound shoulder into the door sending it flying open. I scramble inside for the keys, retrieve them and then hand them to Nixon. “Problem solved.”

  Nixon’s jaw flexes then he swallows. “Thank you, Mila.” And then he turns on his heel and walks down the hall in his black suit.

  “Who’s he?” Caleb asks, a tightness to his words I’m not expecting from him.

  “Nixon Shaw. He’s an investment banker.”

  “He wants to fuck you.”

  I snort and begin walking down the hall, frantically trying to wipe the mascara from my face.

  “Or he already has . . .,” he notes when we’re in the lobby, thinking he’s hit on a touchy subject.

  “No, I haven’t. I wouldn’t.”

  “Okay.” And that’s all he says before he’s walkin
g away. He passes by Scarlet in the process, and she does a double take as if she knows him but doesn’t know where from.

  “Holy shit,” Scarlet gasps and saunters over to me. “Is that the firefighter?”

  Shit. Play it cool. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

  “Goddamn girl, he’s hot. I couldn’t see him very well at the club that night but fuck, look at those green eyes! I’m bummed I sat on his friend’s lap.”

  Scarlet stares at me, her eyes zoned in on my neck that probably has bruises on it. I’m going to need to talk to Caleb about being a little more gentle, even though I love the shit out of his controlling side.

  “Dude, what’s on your neck? Looks like dried glue.”

  Oh. Shit.

  And then she touches it, picks at it and my face heats up like a fucking sun lamp is on me. Scarlet slaps her hand over her mouth immediately. “Oh. My. God. I know what that it.” She grabs my shoulders and makes me face her. “You dirty fucking slut.” And then I’m brought to her chest, my face pressed against her tiny tits and she’s petting my head. “I’m so goddamn proud of you.”

  I shouldn’t be proud of this, yet I kind of am.

  After a minute, she draws back and lets me go. “But seriously, you should clean that off.”

  Running around the corner to the bathroom, I attempt to get it off with soap and water but I scrub so much it looks like I have a rug burn on my fucking neck.

  Awesome.

  Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I shake my head. Goddamn it, what the hell is that stuff made from that it sticks so well? It’s like superglue.

  The rest of the day, I couldn’t turn my thoughts off when it came to Caleb. He has this intensity about him, wrapped around eyes that refuse to release their hold on me.

  The entire day my brain’s in a fog, and I’m worried after the way he acted when he left, he might not be back.

  I laugh when he’s outside the hotel at the end of my shift, leaned against the side of the building, hands buried in his pockets. “Again?”

  He shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smile seen under the lights of the hotel. “I told you I wanted you to come home with me.”

  I stall and smile. “I don’t know anything about you. I probably shouldn’t,” I’m teasing and he knows it.

  Bumping my shoulder, he nods to a lifted white truck parked on the street. “Not much to know. I’m boring, but I’m definitely taking you back to my place.”

  “I doubt you’re all that boring.”

  Opening the door to his truck, he gives another nod for me to get in. I tilt my head at him. “What are we doing?”

  He shrugs. “It’s whatever we want it to be.”

  Whatever. I could do whatever with him. Definitely.

  I’m beginning to think some girl really did a number on him. But you know, some man, or shall I say drummer, did a number on me.

  I know what you’re thinking. He’s going to break your heart. Well, for one, I’m not looking for love, so that’s out of the question. I’m just looking for a guy to fuck my brains out, and he is. So we’re good.

  Cross Lay

  An arrangement of hose on a pumper such that it can be quickly unloaded from either side of the apparatus; often pre-connected to a pump outlet and equipped with a suitable nozzle.

  Believe it or not, I haven’t had a lot of one-night stands and none I’ve wanted a second time with. Until I met Mila and that one time is enough to make me think about plastering the streets of Seattle with wanted posters until I find her again.

  And now she’s in my bed and I don’t want her to leave.

  That’s a problem.

  “I’m late for work,” Mila tells me, sighing like she feels the same way I do about her leaving this morning.

  “You’re not a stripper, are you?” I ask, sitting down on the couch and reaching for my shoes. It’s a Sunday. You’d think someday she’d have a day off, so it leads me to ask questions like this.

  I don’t think she’s a stripper, but she can suck dick better than anyone I’ve ever been with. That talent came from somewhere.

  “No.” Mila laughs, leaning over to put her heels back on. “You’re not a drummer, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  Just as I’m about to ask her if she can you know, just call in sick today and spend the day on my dick, Jacey walks in. I only forgive her for coming home because she’s holding a tray of coffee and bags of pastries.

  “I made breakfast!” she says, slamming the front door with her foot. She notices Mila on the couch, then me without a shirt on and I’m still in my boxers. I’m not sure if I’ll get dressed today. Maybe I’ll just stay naked until Mila returns to my bed later. Wait, no, that won’t work because I’m picking up an overtime shift. Damn it.

  Jacey hands me a coffee and throws a bagel at my chest. “You’re disgusting.” And then she smiles tenderly at Mila like she didn’t just throw a bagel at me. “Who’s this?”

  She knows who it is, but I think she asks just to be a jerk to me.

  “I’m Mila,” Mila says, standing up to shake her hand.

  Jacey holds out her hand. “I’m Jacey. I’ve heard a lot about you. Hungry? Want some coffee?”

  “Shut the fuck up!” I mouth behind Mila, glaring at Jacey. She’s like a little sister intent on embarrassing the fuck out of me. Only thing worse would be Owen being here. Thankfully his dirty ass is somewhere else.

  “Oh, thank you.” Mila laughs taking a coffee and a pastry from her. “I’m starving.”

  Fucking right she is. “Three times in one night” worth of starving.

  Arrogantly, I wink at Mila, and Jacey makes a gagging sound back in the kitchen. “I think I liked it better in this apartment when you weren’t getting any.” She leans into the doorway to the kitchen and takes an overly large bite of her muffin. “If you’re going to be walking around naked, I need to think about getting my own place.”

  Taking the bagel, the one I really wanted, I throw it as hard as I possibly can at Jacey. It smacks her in the side of the face.

  Her cheeks flush and she’s pissed at me because one, that probably stung a little and two, she gets really mad at me when I throw things at her. Happens like every other day.

  “Caleb Mathew Ryan . . .” Rolling my eyes, I flop my head back on the couch and turn it to the left to where Mila is laughing. I mouth Jacey’s next words to Mila because I know exactly what they’ll be. “You’re a dick!”

  And then thankfully, she stomps away to her room.

  “Sorry about her.”

  Mila shakes her head. “No, it’s okay.” She gives a flick of her hand toward the front door. “I really need to get to work. Sorry.”

  “I’m picking up an overtime shift today, so I need to go too.” I know she can hear the dejection in my voice. I want to throw a bagel at my head.

  Mila laughs lightly and stands. “Jacey, she’s your roommate, right?”

  “Yeah. That other firefighter, the one your friend fucked . . . he lives here too.” I motion to the other door near the wall. “I have no idea where he’s at.”

  “You and Jacey . . . Have you two . . .?” Her voice trails off, and I know what she’s asking. She wants to know what my relationship is with her. Gemma wanted to know too. Me living with Jacey caused about a dozen fights with us over the year we were together. Mostly because no matter how many times I told Gemma I wasn’t fuckin’ Jacey, she never believed me.

  “Well, uh, it’s . . .”

  Mila waves me off. “I’m overstepping. It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  I don’t know why, but I chuckle, the tone of it is anxious and somewhat sarcastic, and I know it’s because I’m afraid if I tell her anything about me, she might run away. “No, it’s not like that. We dated when we were kids, but haven’t been together since then.” I want her to know this isn’t something where I have a live in fuck buddy. “We’re just friends. She’s like a highly annoying sister to me now.”
>
  Again, she waves me off. “Seriously, no need to explain.”

  And I think I like this chick a little more. I think I’m fucked. It’s easy to think this might stay simple but I know well enough it doesn’t work like that. At least not my experiences.

  I don’t want Mila knowing everything about me yet. I don’t know why, just that I don’t.

  It’s not like me to share my past with anyone. Hell, even Gemma didn’t know anything about me. Other than the fact that I was a firefighter and where I lived. She didn’t know I was adopted. We fucked and when she started fucking someone else, I was out. I didn’t think I needed to have a conversation with her about being exclusive. Or maybe it was that I didn’t want to have the conversation because of what it would lead to.

  Exclusive leads to “Do you love me?” That’s what every girl wonders eventually and that’s not something I can give them. So I steer clear of relationships and anything that involves expressing feelings or definition.

  WHEN I WALK through the doors of the firehouse that morning, the guys are shuffling in as the shift changes began.

  “She show you her dick yet?” is the question left hanging when I walk in.

  Gathered in the lounge, Owen and Jay are already talking, loud and bright-eyed. The two of them are never late to anything, and if they could predict a fire, I’m sure they’d be right there and ready for it five minutes before it started.

  Jay’s standing over the stove making breakfast, the smells of bacon and eggs frying filling the house.

  “Fuck you,” Finn grumbles as they shit-talk his new girlfriend. If you can call her a girlfriend.

  He met her at a club last week that’s known for transsexuals. We’re convinced this Kimberly he met is actually a Ken. And if he’s into that sort of thing, more power to him. He just has to be prepared that in a firehouse, we’re gonna rag on the poor bastard.

  “Let me ask you something.” Owen leans forward, getting serious now. “When she blows you, does she stick her finger up your ass too?”