Brotherhood of Fire (4 page)

The instant they were in the door, Garrett had her on the couch. He needed her. Now. Long day, hard fire, four beers or not, his cock was raging hard.
She put her hands up to push him back, but she smiled up at him, that little gleam in her eyes. "Don't even . . . you're already in trouble. God, I feel like a kid getting caught making out! Is this still that
first fire hard on
they all talk about?"
"Nope. It's you. Why, you complaining?" He mumbled into her neck, tasting her skin, licking the hollow of her throat.
She sighed. "Hell no. You know I can't resist you. I still can't believe John saw us. What was that little back and forth between you?"
"Nothing. I wanted to see what he thought about catching us. You were turned on, weren't you?"
"What?" Her eyes went wide. "No, it was embarrassing."
He looked up and grinned at her. "Not that, before, when you were wrapped around him. I saw how you looked at him, don't lie."
Her mouth went into a tight little line but her eyes were flashing green, bright, and intense. "Okay, he's hot. I admit it. I'm not blind, and I was jammed right up against him."
"More than that. You thought something, didn't you?" She swatted at him, and he caught her hand, kissing her slim fingers. "Didn't you? You know it makes me hot, come on, we both thought it. And it's not the first time."
A low moan escaped her, making his dick stiffen more. "God. Okay, yes. But it's your fault! You've got me stuck on this threesome fantasy thing."
"Perfect. That's what I wanted to hear." The flood of adrenaline that ran through him threatened to unleash a total lack of control, but he took a deep breath and held it back.
Her eyebrow arched in that sexy way she had when she was turned on. He knew she was unsure, but too curious to let it go. "Seriously demented, Garrett. What the hell are you talking about?"
"What you just said, our threesome fantasy. I want it to be John."
The sudden, quiet gasp made his cock go instantly rigid as stone and throb against her belly.
"Oh," she whispered.
"I went rock hard watching him holding you like that . . . turned me on. I've been thinking it since the picnic. I just didn't have the chance to say anything. You thought it too, you know you did."
"What? I—"
He closed his mouth over hers and tugged on her shorts before she could get out another word of protest. Her shirt went next, then the bra. Trying not to lean on her too hard, he needed to be next to her, naked, now. He ripped his T-shirt over his head, the image of John in the same position with her making him breathe hard and fast. He visualized the dark honed body of John, poised against his wife's pale ivory beauty.
"God, Carrie, I can see him with you. The two of you would be beautiful together. I want to make this real."
"Garrett!" She gasped. "You see him almost every day, hell I see him all the—"
"Please," he pleaded. "The idea of you two makes me crazy. I don't know why, it just does. Besides, he's who you described. You know that, right?"
"I did?"
"Think about it, black hair, blue eyes, nice guy . . . ."
He worked his jeans off, spread her thighs, and moved closer. "Picture him, doing this," he whispered, leaning in to taste her. The flood of heat and wet pooling between her thighs told him no matter how much she protested, she loved the idea. Nuzzling the silky, auburn curls, he lapped at her, letting himself sink into the addictive taste of her, licking and teasing, building the need in her before he pushed further.
He pulled back, rubbing his cheek against the baby soft skin of her inner thigh. "Come on, think about it, John's face buried between your thighs. I'd be right here with you, watching."
"Oh, god, Garrett . . . ." She moaned, arching her hips closer.
He looked up at her. Her eyes were half closed and smoky with the need he was building in her, her soft hair falling over her creamy white breasts in waves. He groaned into her thigh, then leaned in and tapped his tongue on her clit one more time. "You like that, don't you? Would you suck my cock for me while he makes you scream? You know I love being in your hot, little mouth."
She didn't answer with her voice, but rather with her body. He buried his tongue in her, swirling through her silky wetness, thrusting in and out of her. She began to quiver against his mouth. Shifting quickly to her clit, he flattened his tongue and pressed over the bundle of nerves. That was all it took. She screamed, shuddered against him, and came, moaning his name as he licked every delicious drop from her.
Hard enough to feel like he was splitting in two, he wanted to make her come again, see her imagining John and how wild it seemed to make her, but he couldn't wait any longer. He leaned forward, grabbed her hips, and buried himself in her with one deep thrust.
"Oh, god damn, Carrie, you're on fire." He groaned.
"Garrett! I love when you fill me, sweetheart. Deeper . . . god, go deeper, you feel so good."
He slid his hands around to the soft globes of her ass and pushed deeper. "What if John was under you, holding you up for me, his cock buried in your sweet little ass while I fuck you."
When her pussy clenched over his cock, it kicked inside her, and he had to move. Hard and fast. She pushed against him, meeting every stroke.
"Tell me, tell me how much you want it, both of us in you, both of us wrapped around you. Your pussy tells me you do, but I want to hear you say it."
"Yes, oh god, yes; I want both of you!" she yelled, coming again with a loud moan as her muscles pulled at him, wrapping his cock in trembling, wet heat. He thrust deep, letting her pull him down with her.
"Coming Carrie, fuck yes, you're on fire, make me come, baby, make me come."
When the spasms subsided, he lowered himself to her and gathered her into his chest. He grinned, turning back to nip her chin with his lips. "Sorry. Went a little crazy."
"Wow," she breathed, her chest heaving. "You did. It felt amazing; why are you sorry? I don't think we've had one that hard and fast in awhile."
"Hmm mmm. We haven't," he murmured into her chest, nuzzling against her skin. "Might be something to this. You still think it's a bad idea to fantasize about John?"
She swatted his back, then ran her hands over his skin, laughing quietly. "Yes, yes, I do. I can't believe you even got me to say it. You keep me fantasizing about him and the sex is always like that, I'll be climbing on him the next time I see him. Talk about slightly embarrassing."
He lifted his face to look at her. "Or maybe he would like it. I wasn't kidding about what I said; let's make this real."
Lifting her head to meet his eyes, she grew serious. "Stop, Garrett, right now. I know what you're thinking and no. You really want me going nuts over having another guy, not even just any guy—your best friend and mentor, in bed with us?"
"Maybe. I didn't say we should go that crazy, just give it a shot. Have a little fun."
"Yeah, well, we aren't the only ones to consider. Friendships get ruined that way, Garrett; people get hurt. Your relationship with John isn't something you want to risk over a good fuck. I sure as hell don't."
"Let me worry about what happens with that part of it. You running like hell from the idea tells me somewhere in that pretty little head of yours, you would like it, and you know it. You're using excuses to deny it."
She sighed and leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling, avoiding his gaze. "Exactly, smart ass. I told you, stop this right now. I mean it. This isn't something you want to push. You are a control freak. Somehow, you think this is the perfect little set up, everybody you care about right in your bed where you can keep track of us."
"Damn, Carrie, go for the gut, why don't you." Garrett's chest tightened. "Okay, so I would love for us to all be connected, but it's just sex, Carrie. You're as turned on by the idea as I am. Besides, I saw something else today."
"Stop analyzing me. I'm perfectly happy with just you," she sighed. "What, what did you see?"
He smiled. Her curiosity always got the better of her. "You saw it. The look on John's face when he was watching us together. He looked at you like he'd kill to have you."
"Garrett! You aren't thinking this through. It's a lot more than sex. He's your mentor." She pushed him, trying to roll him off, but he didn't move. He rested on his elbows, looking down at her.
"I know who he is; that's exactly why I'm pushing this. He's the one, and you know it. I've seen how you look at him, and you can't help but imagine it."
"Stop it!" She shook her head, her lips in a tight line. "I'm serious."
"So am I. I have never been more serious in my life. You're uncomfortable because you can't stop thinking about it, but you're hung up on the fact that you think it's wrong, that he'll think it's wrong and judge you. I know better on both fronts, so let me take this where it needs to go, Carrie. Trust me?"
The shocked look on her face dissolved into resolution, and she sighed. "Fine. I'll listen to what you have to say because I love you, I trust you, and you're serious about this. I thought it might just be a passing kind of joke at first. Guess not."
"No. Not even close. I'm serious, all right, and I'm not on some horny bent that I need to satisfy." He leaned in to kiss her forehead. "He'll be very gentle with you, he'd never hurt you. You know that right?"
"Garrett!" She slapped his bare belly.
"Ow! Dammit, Carrie that hurt!" he grumbled, but he laughed.
"You deserved it. I didn't say yes. I said we needed to talk! And that sounds weird as hell, you talking about how he'll be with me."
"Uh huh. Carrie, come on, what's left to talk about? You want him, you're attracted to him. He's all but tripping over his tongue whenever I say your name. All it would take is one word from you, and he would melt, trust me. Man, I'm the only one not in denial."
"I'm not in denial, Garrett. Yeah, he turns me on, but I'd have never gone there if you weren't behind this, you need to know that. I didn't think of him that way until you said it, now . . . ." She sighed. "He's stuck in my head permanently like that, and I'm not sure I'm good with him in that role. He's a great guy, any girl would be lucky to have him. So, why exactly are we planning to keep him from having his own life? Why would we want to drag him into this warped little fantasy?"
"It's not warped; people do it all the time, and he's a grown man. We aren't forcing him. You picture John doing something he doesn't want to do? Anything he does you can be damn sure it's because he wants to, so when that day comes you remember I said that."
"Why? Why do you want this so bad, Garrett, to see your best friend fuck your wife?"
He rubbed a hand over his eyes and took a deep breath. He loved that she wasn't easy, didn't give in without a fight.
"Hey, don't beat around the bush there, Carrie."
"Well? That's it, right there in black and white." She rose up on her elbow to stare at him, the challenge in her eyes. "Answer the question."
"I've always wanted to see someone make you wild while I'm with you, touching you. You don't realize how high two of us together could drive you, what it would be like. What it would be like for me to do that to you with someone I trust."
"To watch me with John?"
"Exactly. To watch you melt for him like you do me, a hundred times more intense than that, because everything we'll do to you we'll do together, feel together."
Laying her head back on the pillow, he watched her eyes soften as she took a deep breath. Her resolve was melting, and he had to fight his smile.
"Fine then, let's get to the nitty-gritty. How do you expect this to work?" she asked quietly.
"It just does. If it happens, we take it as it comes, do what feels natural. I know him well enough to know how he thinks, how he is. I don't worry a bit about any of that. It'll take care of itself."
"So what, we just walk up and tell him we want him to jump into bed with us?" She shook her head, buried her face in her hands. "God, this is freaking crazy."
"Crazy, maybe. Exciting, though. And you won't even worry about any of this once he's touched you, you know it."
"I'm not sure if I'm more disturbed now, or less," Carrie muttered. "This is scary."
"Everything good is, baby, everything good is. So, what do you think?"
"I think I'm nowhere near ready to make this decision. It sounds exciting, sure, just to sit here and think about it, but if it's real, there is so much more at stake."
"Sure there is, that's part of the thrill. It's wild, it's unconventional, but it's also private, and I don't think there is anything wrong with the idea."
"Of course you don't, you're a man." She sighed, half-laughing. Lifting her hand to her eyes, she covered them for a moment and gave another sigh. "I can't deny how much it turns me on; it's not like you can't tell already. It's not that I think it's wrong really, either. I mean, it seems like I should, but I don't. It's just too hard to say yes like it's choosing what's for dinner. The situation's a little more complicated than that."
"But you aren't shutting the whole thing down completely? You're thinking in terms it might be more than a fantasy? As in, you aren't saying no anymore, right?"
She turned to look at him again, fixing a very deep stare at him. Searching, but full of love.
"No, Garrett, I'm not saying no."

A knock on the front door shouldn't send her into a whole body shudder. Shouldn't make her grit her teeth, stop at the mirror to check her hair. Or drench her panties like a schoolgirl waiting for her first kiss.

Carrie sighed. She steeled her face into a bland, hey,
I really don't have daily sex fantasies and talk about fucking you with my husband
look, and opened the door.
Oh. Hell.
John smiled.
Her knees jerked.
"Hi, John." She smiled back, really not wanting to offend him. Really not wanting him to come in the house either. He looked so damn good her nerves were going to fly apart. She could feel the warm flush start in the pit of her belly and work its way out until it had her entire body humming. He had on worn jeans that were tight over his muscular thighs, and a somewhat faded, dark blue twill shirt that set his blue eyes on fire, unbuttoned far enough to show the hard ridges of his chest through the white tshirt underneath. His thick, black hair curled slightly behind his ears and around the top of his collar; a few strands fell over his forehead, accentuating the hint of a five o'clock shadow that always seemed to be present on his tanned face.
He shuffled a little, looking down then back up again. Surprised his apparent nervousness mirrored hers, she watched him, unable to think of anything to say. To her relief, he finally broke a smile and spoke up.
"Hey, Carrie. How's the ankle? Should be pretty much healed by now."
"Good! You did a great job; it's almost back to normal."
"Great, I'm glad. Is Garrett here? I didn't see his truck." He nodded toward the driveway, empty except for his big, black Ford pickup.
"Oh, uh, sorry, come in. Garrett's not back yet," she said, moving aside as he stepped in, hoping his grin didn't mean he'd been watching her check him out.
"Thanks, sorry I'm a few minutes early, we were going to—"
When she turned, she almost ran into him. He'd only moved into the room two feet, like he wasn't sure where to put himself. She laughed, scooted around him, and ran into a wall of his scent. He filled her lungs and her head swam. Warm, spicy, like broken-in leather and something sweet. His voice jerked her back to the present, back from squeezing her thighs together and wanting to bury her face in his neck. Again.
"Uh, we were going to work on some stuff for his practicals."
"He told me, he's been obsessing over it for days. He went to the hardware store for more rope. This is his third trip." She laughed a nervous twitter, cringing inside. "Kind of like a force of nature when he wants something, isn't he?"
A slight choking sound came from John's throat. "Uh, yeah, he is, all right." He shuffled a little and jammed his hands farther into his pockets.
The discomfort of the situation overtook her, and she scrambled for something, anything. "You want a beer? I have some in the fridge."
"Sure, sounds good."
John silently following her to the kitchen was a shot of the surreal. He should be off limits. Just a nice guy that they'd be friends with forever. Hell, maybe someone she'd help find a nice girlfriend for. But the further Garrett pushed her into thinking of him as something else, as her own lover, the harder a time she had bringing up arguments against this. With him standing in front of her, the desire became overpowering, nearly irresistible. The more she saw of him in person, the more she thought she could go through with turning fantasy into reality. His calm manner, the steady way he had of examining everything. The way he had of not being able to hide what he was thinking sent her daydreaming, and she could see herself one step closer to giving in, letting herself feel the pull that was already there.
She found herself attracted to—
wanting
—her husband's best friend and mentor, in their bed, with them. Her lover in every respect, just like her husband. Right now, the warm, sexy smelling, very comfortable realness of him was sending her into a state of mind that made her dizzy, made her nearly forget her own name. Just like two days ago in the bar, guilt swirled in her gut right along side the tantalizingly warm feeling that being this close to him brought on. Whether the lurid thoughts she had about the man were instigated by her husband or not, it still seemed freakishly odd to be thinking them about a man other than the one she had married.
When she got to the fridge and had to bend down to look inside, she flushed, all over. She fished the beer out and turned.
His face had grown a little pink.
"So, everything good at the fire house?" she asked, handing him the beer. She leaned on the kitchen island and tried to pretend he wasn't embarrassed because he'd just looked at her ass. "Bottle, or glass?" she muttered, considering the contradiction. No one had ever blushed checking out her ass before.
"Bottle's fine. Firehouse is the usual. Normal stuff. How does Garrett like the training program?" He twisted the cap off his beer and took a long pull, avoiding her eyes.
She latched on to the benign topic, something at least she could speak coherently about instead of staring into those deep blue eyes, looking at all his thick, black hair. Checking out the roped muscles of his tanned forearms where his shirtsleeves were rolled up. Imagining herself wrapped around those slim hips and muscled thighs, naked. She cleared her throat.
"He loves it. He's proud of being a fireman in the first place. Going this far this fast and getting his extra certifications? Yeah, he's excited, that'd be an understatement."
"I wish I'd have done my paramedic certification sooner. I have to get the results from the bridge course before I can do the state testing. I should have gotten started right at the beginning."
"Why is that bad, waiting? You're already a medic. Getting certified for the state qualifications is a formality, isn't it? Besides, aren't you almost finished?"
"I'm almost done, yeah. I miss being a medic though; I wasted a lot of time waiting. Guess sometimes I don't take opportunities that come along I probably should."
Her breath caught. His direct stare made her hands shake. If she didn't know better, she'd have sworn he was talking about what Garrett had been suggesting, that somehow he
knew
. Knew she had been wondering the same thing, if she was passing up something she shouldn't be. But no. Hell, he was talking about his career while she stood here thinking about getting the poor man in her bed.
Voice wavering, she tried to refocus on the topic, the real one, not her own agenda. "I know exactly what you mean, but you are now; that's what matters, right? Garrett didn't exactly jump right in, took him four years of talking about joining the fire department before he did. Now he couldn't be happier. Well, I guess I don't have to tell you, do I?"
"No." He laughed. "Sure don't. He's a great probie, never complains, always works twice as hard as he has to. Always there when you need him. Has been for me, anyway."
She wondered if John realized how close to the surface he played his emotions. Wondered if that would bother him, because she admired him being so open.
"He is. Garrett's reliable and honest like you would not believe. You couldn't ask for a better guy to be on your side. Once he trusts you, he'd give you the shirt off his back, hell, he'd give you everything he's got if he thought you needed it. But I'm kind of preaching to the choir here, I think."
"Yes, you are." He nodded, took a deep breath and a long swallow of his beer. All at once, she flushed, realizing the look in his eyes was that same dark, raw expression she'd seen when he had been standing next to the truck at the bar. Heat rushed up her body and over her face.
This was all way too much, too fast. "Hey, want to go out on the porch? Cooler out there." Hell yes, and public, too. Standing here alone with him was getting to her.
His chest lifted and fell evenly; his eyes never moved from hers.
"Sure."
Ignoring the live wire buzzing going off in her brain, she walked toward the back door. She felt him behind her, the few feet between them doing nothing to kill the sensation that there was heat passing from his body to hers. Her hands felt tight and hot, her face warm. Hell, she was sweating, and she never did that.
As they rounded the corner at the back of the house, Garrett pulled in. Rather than sit on the swing that was hidden behind a closed-in corner of lattice, she leaned on the porch rail in full view, smiling. Relieved.
Garrett jumped out of his truck wearing an ear-to-ear grin.
"Hey, baby! John, how's it going?" Then he nodded at John. "Thanks for coming over. Sorry, I had to, uh, get more rope."
John chuckled. "Yeah, I went through about a hundred yards before I got what I liked too. Stupid thing is, you'll never use it after you learn all the knots, least not at the department."
Carrie watched Garrett's eyes light up. He grinned at her as he mounted the steps, making a beeline for them like a man possessed. "I think I've already got a couple of other uses for it anyway, right?" His voice was husky as he loomed over her, grabbing her around the waist and tugging her into him.
"Garrett!" She whimpered. "What the hell is your—?" The rest was muffled by his lips locking over hers. She swore she saw him looking not down at her, but right over her shoulder to John. Then, as his hands rounded her hips and planted firmly on her ass, she knew damn well he was looking at him.
Yanking free, she wiped her mouth. "Knock it off. I know what you're doing," she whispered.
He gave a low laugh, looked down at her, then back up over her shoulder at John. "Not exactly hiding it. Done with the tiptoe bullshit routine." With a deft twist, he had her pinned right back against his chest, lips covering hers as a low moan escaped him.
A quiet sound came from behind them, almost a choking noise. "Fuck, Garrett, you need to stop this shit."
His head lifted away from her lips long enough to answer, but he didn't let her go. He pulled her closer and ran one hand up under the back of her shirt, snapping the closure of her bra open before she knew he was planning to. "Not forcing you to stand there and watch, am I? Told you already, you can tell me you don't want this all fucking day long, but you can't hide that rock hard dick in your pants that tells me otherwise."
She sucked in a sharp breath and dropped her head to Garrett's chest.
He knew. He'd known the whole time. A cold chill ran through her, fighting with the heat that still pulsed between her thighs and was rising as fast as the churning in her stomach. She raised her gaze to her husband's. His eyes were burning, the dark, coffee brown nearly consumed by the black of the iris, dilated with desire and the dim light of the porch.
"I asked him, sweetheart, just like I did you. Neither of you will admit you need this, so I'm doing it for you. For all of us." He leaned in and brushed a kiss over her brow as a new shiver rushed over her skin. The power her husband had to take control of any situation always thrilled her.
He looked past her. "Touch her, John," Garrett said, his voice rough and low.
A low choking growl came from behind her as she heard John shifting around. "Fuck. No. I can't do it."
Her belly twisted, and sank further into a knotted mess.
"Carrie?" Garrett breathed into her ear. "It's not that he doesn't want to, sweetheart, he's bluffing. Oh, he wants to all right, but he needs something. Tell him what we've been talking about."
Sucking in a breath, she froze, mouth dry. No matter how badly she wanted him to know the truth, to embrace it, no matter how much her body ached for him right at this moment, she could never get the words out, never put a voice to the very desires she craved as much as questioned.
"It's hard, I know. I'll do it, then. I can tell him how crazy you go when I tease you, talking about his face between your legs, his cock buried in you. She comes like a mad woman, John. Shaking, grinding into me, screaming my name, and yours."
"Oh, god, Garrett don't." She whimpered and buried her face further, the flame of embarrassment nothing compared to the heat pooling between her legs, the pounding hope that John was not going to take what had just been revealed to him and look at her like some sort of wanton slut for it.
"Jesus Christ." John muttered behind her.
She heard him pacing.
"Turn around, Carrie."
A terrifying thrill rushed through her at his words. A man not her husband commanding her to turn and face him, to own that she did, in fact, scream his name when she came to the vision of him with her. She twisted as Garrett released her from his arms. Swiping her hands over her face, she looked up at John, not sure if he just needed to see the guilt on her face or had the same conflict rolling in his gut she did.
"True?"
"Yes," she whispered, her eyes feeling like they wanted to fill with tears, the anxiety and desire spilling from her like a rushing tide.
His face darkened. Breath coming fast, his nostrils flaring slightly with each exhale, he stared at her. He didn't look angry, and thank god, no disgust registered in his expression, either. The only thing she saw was barely controlled desire. The idea thrilled her in the same way it made her tremble with fear.
"Do you want me to touch you?"
"Yes." The word broke from her chest like a low, whimpering sob as she brought her hand to her face, half covering her eyes. Garrett's arms slid around her, his lips brushed her ear. "Easy, you okay?"
She nodded, unsure if that were true or not.
John leaned back, the heat in his eyes unmistakable, his face flushed. It was foreign, thrilling to have his deep blue eyes devouring her instead of Garrett's brown ones. Forbidden. Every secret, lust-filled whisper in the dark come to life in front of her. Real.
Without warning, he broke the hold he had on himself, and his lips brushed hers. The electric thrill, the belly tightening rush of that first kiss, pulled a low moan from her. He smiled against her lips and relief flooded her along with desire. All of a sudden, cool air brushed her back, and she realized Garrett had stepped away. A firm hand on her arm moved her a few steps backward into the wall of the porch, into the corner where the lattice hid them from view. The cool vinyl of the siding met her back, and John pushed her hard into it, never breaking his lips from hers as Garrett maneuvered them together.
John's hand moved to her hip, he tugged her into him and kissed her deeper, pressing harder, opening his mouth, and sucking on her bottom lip. His tongue parted her, slid inside her, and she tasted him. Breath coming in shallow pants against her cheek, he moved his body against her, restless. Her body set its own rhythm, moving against his even pinned to his hard wall of muscle and the wall behind her.
The kiss grew deeper, hungrier, both of them diving in, biting into each other as if there would never be enough. Clutching at his shoulders, moving to his hair, she moved her hands over him, demanding to feel as much of him as she could reach. Pulling her closer, he brought her up hard against him, his mouth and body demanding her total surrender. His cock throbbed as he moved against her, rocking into her with little to no control. Every pulse of blood in him pumped against her belly through his pants, leaving her breathless with imagining the feel of it moving within her.