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Authors: Elizabeth Moore

Brotherhood of Fire (7 page)

BOOK: Brotherhood of Fire
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John's truck pulled in next to theirs in the small patch of dirt in front of the cabin. Garrett couldn't hold in the grin as he watched John climb out, shaking his head a little and looking around.

"You were right." John nodded as he walked over. "This place is amazing."

Garrett glanced around again at the picture-perfect cabin, the wood porch, the small clearing keeping the woods that surrounded the place at bay. It smelled of pine and clean air. There was a small yard at the back with a fire pit, and other than that, not a thing in site but trees. The drive was at least a half a mile long, just a sandy, two-track road. It couldn't be more perfect for the three of them, though when they had rented the place that hadn't even been part of the equation.

"I think we have to come here every year from now on, make it a tradition." Garrett offered, getting a feel for John's mood.
They stood barely two feet apart, John's hands on his hips, Garrett's shoved in his pockets, making small talk like two friends hanging out. Not two friends getting ready to push further into an arrangement that included Garrett's wife in bed with them both.
"Campground is always a good time though. Crowded, loud, and definitely not private, but it's fun." John's voice sounded casual, but he shifted on his feet, stuffing his hands down into his pockets.
"Going to miss it this year?"
John's eyebrow cocked up. "Funny, asshole. No, I won't miss the drunks at the campground. You know damn well I wouldn't be here if I didn't need to be." He turned away with a short huff, looking out into the trees. "Now that I'm on board, just know I don't want any bad blood between us. This is your show, your idea; I'll just go with whatever you guys want. Water ball—now that's
my
show, so no matter what the hell we do, we have to sleep a little at least. The competition is brutal, and I intend to win this year."
Garrett clapped him on the back. "Sleep or no, I'm jacked up enough to take on the world right now, man. I'm all in for the competition. We'll get you that trophy. As for here, what I want is for you to treat her like she's yours. She likes you, a lot. If she can see you are okay with this, she'll calm down and settle right in. On the outside, she might seem like a tough girl, but, uh . . . ." He hesitated, the sudden feeling of handing control of his wife to someone else gripping him. The exact thing he wanted, and it had snuck around to bite him in the ass. He had to grin at the dilemma. John threw him a curious look.
"Uh, well, she likes you to take charge. I'm a little dom with her sometimes. Nothing crazy, just be in charge. She eats it up. Makes her feel safe, you know? She's unpacking. There's two bedrooms. You claiming one or just not going to bother pretending?"
"Dick. Gotta push, don't you?" John muttered, dragging his bag out of the back seat of his truck. He slammed the door and turned back toward the cabin with a determined look. "Point."
"Second door on the left, down the little hall at the back."
Garrett grabbed the rest of their luggage out of the truck and followed him, feeling the blood pooling in his cock again.
He watched the door push open to the small bedroom. The saving grace for the cramped quarters was the king sized bed stuffed in the tiny space. Sending up a silent
thank you god
for small favors, he took in the sight of his wife.
In the middle of putting clothes in the small dresser next to the bed, she'd startled when the door pushed open. He could see past John to her open-mouthed look. Her eyes were wide, her hands twisting whatever piece of clothing she held. It was sexy as hell watching her take them both in.
John's bag dropped to the floor, and he kicked it aside. Turning briefly, he glanced back. Garrett never would have believed in a million years that the look passing over a man's face would make his cock harden instantly, make his body grow flush, and a raw, insistent feeling of pure need course through him like a drumbeat. The look on John's face mirrored Garrett's feelings and then some. No mistaking he'd gone beyond control, beyond thinking. He needed. Plain and simple.
And apparently, he'd decided to take heed of Garrett's advice to take charge.
With three short strides, John to closed the distance to Carrie. "You good with this?" He tossed the question back over his shoulder. "Say no now if you aren't. Otherwise, you better get in here." Then his mouth closed over Carrie's in a desperate, hot kiss.
Garrett leaned in the doorway, trying to breathe, his body on fire, his mind racing. John went at Carrie with abandon, and Garrett had never seen anything more erotic in his life. It was just how he'd pictured it. His wife melting into John, her hands twisted in his hair, little moans of pleasure coming from her—he had a feeling he might never get enough of seeing such an amazing scene.
"Naked. Now, Garrett." John barked, tearing at Carrie's clothes, his lips barely leaving her skin long enough to get the words out.
Hands flew, and groans and small grunts filled the room as they shed clothing fast and furious. Stripped in seconds, Garrett moved in to help finish yanking Carrie's jeans down over her legs while John pushed her to the bed.
The low groan he heard came from his own chest as he watched John cover his wife with his big body, holding himself above her. Tensed, he hovered there, looking like he struggled to hold back, like he wanted to keep his wits and savor every second of this. The same thoughts and emotions ran through Garrett's head.
The dam had to break one way or the other.
"Take her. Take her like you want to."
Carrie's low whimper broke the sound of heavy breathing as John had the presence of mind to slide his fingers between her already-glistening pussy lips, pulling the moisture over her. "Damn, so wet. I love how wet you get for us."
He felt his cock go iron hard and pulse with fresh need as John moved back. Instead of burying himself in her, he dropped down and moved his big shoulders in between her thighs. A long, low, sigh of a moan came from him as he leaned in to taste her. Garrett knew all too well that first taste, the first wet lick of his wife's sweet pussy. He felt a gush of pre-cum coat the head of his cock as he thought of it, heard the sounds of John lapping at her while she squirmed and moaned on the bed. She was lifting her hand, begging him to come forward, to get closer, and he realized he'd been frozen in place, watching John devour her.
"Sorry." He leaned down onto the bed with her.
Kissing her softly, he watched her face. Her expression was rapt with desire and lost in the feel of John's mouth on her, her eyes barely open but holding his with fascination.
"It's so good," she moaned quietly.
The low, whimpering sounds she made sent a pulsing throb straight to his cock. He breathed through it, looking to John. His belly tightened into a knot as he caught sight of his tongue lapping gently at her clit, his mouth sucking at her pink folds, hearing him suckle in her sweet honey.
"Nothing I've ever seen . . . ." Garrett couldn't finish the words. With a low growl, he bent his head to cover one of her dark nipples with his mouth, never once losing sight of John's face, dark with need, deep in concentration, driving his wife to a screaming orgasm with his tongue.
John stood, looking down at her. Once again, Garrett felt the sensation of knowing every thought going through his head. The satisfaction of driving her to such a height, the taste of her still on his lips, watching her come down from the high with the satisfied grin tugging up the corners of her mouth.
Garrett needed to be inside her. He stood, he moved between them, and leaned in over her. John stepped back out of the way, eyes glued to every move he made. He knew it, saw it, and the image stayed in his mind as part of it all, the three of them, together. Her sweet, wet warmth beckoned him, the glistening pink of her folds still slick from John's mouth just having been there. The sound of John's labored breathing just behind him and the feel of his eyes bearing down on them both while he poised over his wife, ready to bury himself in her, gave him chills.
With a groan, he leaned forward and nudged his cock against her core. Tight, swollen, and hot. She pushed her hips into him, biting her bottom lip like he'd seen her do a thousand times. This time, though, she looked not just at him, but also stole a shy glance to where John stood.
He pushed forward and buried himself in her. The gasp that came from her lips echoed the sharp hissing breath from behind him, and the sound rocked him as much as the feel of his wife's warm depths caressing every inch of his cock. Buried deep in his wife, his best friend watching him with the taste of her still on his mouth fulfilled his fantasy more than he had even imagined.
The thrill pushed him over the edge. Coherent thought left his brain, leaving only the blurred images of him thrusting deep into Carrie, the sounds of skin on skin, deep moans tearing from his chest with each lunge. The gasps and whimpers from his wife were matched by the deep breathing from John, and Garrett swam up out of the haze long enough to realize his friend still stood behind him, and that wasn't where he should be.
"Don't just stand there," he managed to growl out. "Get up here. Touch her, let her stroke your cock . . . god . . . something."
John moved as if the words broke him from a trance. Climbing up onto the bed next to her, he took her mouth in a fiery kiss. Watching his wife's lips devoured while he buried himself in her thrust after thrust sent his mind and his cock into overdrive. Garrett saw her hand slide down John's chest, over his belly, and disappear between his legs. His own cock jumped at the thought of that first feel of her fingers curling around him, and John's low grunt of pleasure marked the moment they did.
The urge to come boiled up, his spine began to tingle, and he pumped harder, falling back into that mindless place where only the sensation remained. He lost himself to the feel of Carrie's tight muscles caressing his cock like so many massaging fingers, the silky wet walls of her pussy sucking at him, enticing him to spill his seed in her. The sounds of their sex, her sweet, female scent filling the room, and John's low groans as he continued to take her lips, her hand working him, brought it all down on him.
He came hard, long, and deep inside her, feeling the wet heat coating her, him, making it slicker as he continued to pump into her. Spent, he leaned in over her shoulder on the opposite side of John, watching as John arched his back, groaning into her mouth. He watched his friend come as his wife stroked John's cock, Garrett's own dick still buried in her sweet warmth.
"Hey."
The whisper broke through and he started, eyes flying open. Adjusting to his surroundings, he recognized the warm, wet feel of his cock retreating from the depths of his wife's body on the edge of his consciousness at the same time he caught sight of John's blue-eyed stare across her shoulder.
They were still lying together, John collapsed on one side of her, he on the other.
"Hello?" Carrie's whisper came louder this time.
He lifted his head to look at her, kiss her lightly on the lips. John's breath huffing against his shoulder didn't bother him as he tasted her lips, looked into her eyes.
"Crushing you?" He grinned.
"Uh, yeah." Her smile was beautiful. Satisfied, relaxed.
He lifted out and off her, rolling to the side so none of his weight rested on her.
"Your phone has been going off about every two minutes," she said, nestling into his shoulder. He noticed she didn't let go of John's hand, but rather pulled his arm with her, wrapping herself in his tanned muscle like a blanket.
"John's too."
"You fall asleep?" He peered over at him.
John laughed. "Nope. That snoring was all you. I'm just ignoring my phone. It's the rest of the crew, anyway. Five bucks says they are at the shack and want to know where we are."
The shack. The famous fairground bar, really just a huge pole barn with enough tables, chairs, and beer to house an army of drunken 's. Just what they needed.
"We have to go?"
"Or they threatened to come here and get us." John sighed. "We have to at least put in an appearance. Would be weird if we didn't."
The importance of keeping up appearances hit him. Normally, he could give a shit less what anybody thought about anything he did, any choices he made. Now, the need to go out of their way to make sure things appeared on the up and up took on more importance. Not for him, but for Carrie's sake and for John's. What would a rumor like that do? John was not only his mentor, but also his friend. If anyone finding out about this might damage his reputation, the risk was too high to be careless.
Suddenly, the choice he had pushed them all so hard to make seemed a little rasher and a little riskier. A tinge of guilt edged his conscience as he considered the consequences of them being found out. He knew damn well there were other 's who didn't walk the straight and narrow. He watched a couple of them enough to know there was some behind-the-scenes things going on between at least one wife and another ', and he knew for a fact some cheated. People who were addicted to the adrenaline rush they all felt fighting fires pushed the boundaries in all kinds of ways, much like they were doing right now in this bed. That didn't mean he wanted any kind of fallout to touch the three of them. His role as not only the instigator of this trio, but also as the protector, rose up. He'd started it; he needed to make sure they all remained unscathed by the choice he'd pushed them to make.
"All right kids, guess we shower and go then, huh? Don't need those assholes poking around here. This is our private life, our own business. Who wants to go first? Too damn bad the shower isn't big enough for all of us—that might be fun." He winked at Carrie, then caught John's eye. The look of resignation on his friend's face added one more reason he needed to be on guard, to be careful and keep an eye out for them all.

Chapter Seven

The bright red paint on the corrugated metal wall of The Shack presented itself to John as they walked up to the ramshackle pole barn bar. The tinny sound of a huge crowd laughing and talking over each other echoed through the steel door as he grasped the cold handle and took a deep breath. Walking into the cavernous space, John resisted the urge to crowd in close behind Carrie, to feel her body heat, catch her scent. It took a conscious effort not to lean into her, to remember that just because they had breached the personal boundaries in private, they could never go there in full view of the world, of their friends. In some anonymous bar, some hole in the wall where no one knew them, he might get brave and push her hair back, maybe lay a hand on her waist. In here? At least thirty 's from their district and others milled around them, and those were just the ones they knew first hand. Hundreds of firefighters from every county in the state crammed into every corner. What a fuck up that would be—put your hands on your best friend's wife in public and broadcast to the world you were sharing more than being partners in the department.

BOOK: Brotherhood of Fire
10.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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