Fire Born (Firehouse 343) (18 page)

“That’s a very wise precaution, Ronnie,” Martie said. “You’ve got your little girl to think about. Best not to give your heart away without knowing if he’s
gonna
want to keep it.”

Why then, she wondered as she walked away at last, was she doing the exact opposite of her own advice?

***

Chris hoped as they returned from another
call—someone who thought himself a master of the barbecue had used too much lighter fluid on his coals and set the entire grill on fire—that Martie hadn’t returned while they were gone.
Not that she would be alone at the station if that were the case; Football, Terry and a volunteer had stayed behind because only the engine had been called for. But he’d hoped to be there when she got back, to greet her with a kiss.

If she’d let him. So far, she’d been nothing but professional in front of the other men,
showing him real affection only when they were alone.
Was it because she didn’t want them to know
? Why would their knowing the two of them were involved be a big deal?

And why the hell was he trying to understand a woman’s motivation? he chided himself with a smile, reminding himself that what they had was new and neither one of them were sure of anything.

Despite his wanting to be there when she returned
,
Chris’s heart nevertheless sped up when he saw Martie’s
Sorento
in the visitor’s lot at the side of the fire station.
After Logan had backed the engine into the ga
rage and he, Chris, and Rick
climbed out of their seats
and headed into the lounge. He looked around for her but she was nowhere in sight.

Football jerked his thumb toward the back rooms. “Office,” he said simply,
then
returned to the thick ham sandwich he was eating. Vonda and their two children
were
with him
—Curtis Jr. and Michael each had on a fireman’s helmet, one belonging to their father and the other belonging to either Terry or the volunteer, Tim Roberts, both of whom were sitting at the next table eating their own dinner.

Chris waved and hurried into the locker room to deposit his gear, then headed for the office. He stopped short o
n
find
ing
a laptop that was probably hers open on one of the desks, the screensaver running.

But no Martie.

Next he headed for the bathroom
, but noticing out of the corner of his eye that the door to the bunkroom was ajar, he pushed it open slowly, thankful for the well-oiled hinges
that made doing so noiseless,
as the sight that greeted him was her finely shaped ass clad only in a pair of white cotton pant
ies, her pants around her calves
as she did…something…to her left knee.

“Love the view,” he quipped.

“Fuck me!” Martie hollered in surprise, grabbing her slacks and yanking them up as she turned around.

“I’d be more than happy to take you up on that, if it’s an offer,” he said, then frowned as he noted some dark coloring on the skin of her thigh
, before she covered it with her clothes
. Martie noticed him watching as she hurried to close her fly, but he was already in front of her and stopping her.

“Let me see,” he said softly.

“You just want me to take my pants off again,” she returned, doing nothing.

Chris grinned. “Oh, there’s no denying that,
wóthe
ȟ
ila
.
But that’s not why I want you to take them off now. Let me see.”

With an exaggerated sigh, she dropped her hands and allowed him to pull her pants back down around her knees
, crouching down to get a better look at the injuries.
He frowned at the ugly bruises marring both legs, especially the one that had blossomed over her
left
kneecap
and now smelled strongly of Ben Gay.

He touched it tentatively and looked up at her. “This hurts?”

Martie raised an eyebrow. “What gave you the first clue—the bruise or the medicinal smell?”

“You sure are snarky when you’re embarrassed,” he replied with a grin.

She crossed her arms, her brow furrowing as she looked down at him. “Wouldn’t you be? And what the hell does
wóthe
ȟ
ila
mean?”

Chris
was pleased she’d copied his pronunciation so exactly.
Then again
she spok
e Italian, so she was
used to enunciating in more than one language. G
ently
he
placed his hand over her knee, allowing the warmth of his palm to
radiate to
the joint underneath. “
Wóthe
ȟ
ila
is a
Lakota word.
It is often used to refer to the object of one’s affection.”

“You mean like
‘
sweetheart
’
?”

He nodded, and then
braving the possibility he would get the taste of the muscle rub on his lips, he leaned forward and kissed her knee. He could feel her shudder ever so slightly at the touch of his l
ips to her skin. Pleased again—and unable to resist the urge—
he kissed again, this time gently laying his lips to the inside of her knee.

Martie drew a sharp breath. “Chris…”

“Yes?” he prompted, nuzzling further up her leg.

She whimpered. “We, um… W
e can’t do this here. There are…there are children out there.”

“This room is fairly soundproofed,” he told her, shifting from a squat to resting his weight on his knees. This allowed him to comfortably rise even higher, his face now even with her most intimate area. Despite her protests, he could smell her arousal there, and dipped his nose into the cotton, breathing deep.

“You smell so good,” Chris
said,
his voice husky with want. “I know I said I’d wait until you were ready, but I’m not sure I can stop now. Not unless you tell me to.”

He looked up at her then, taking note of the fact that her breathing was already shallow, her face already flushed, and her eyes heavy-lidded with desire.
“Do you want me to stop, Martie?”

Chris knew she didn’t, he could see it in her face. But if she told him no, then as much as it would kill him, he’d stan
d up and back away. Of course, doing that
meant he’d have to lock himself in the bathroom to take care of the already painful ache in his balls, because by God he wanted her.

His thoughts must have somehow showed in his expression, because Martie shook her head slowly. “God help me, but I don’t want you to stop,” she said.

He smiled. “I was hoping you’d give me a reason to have locked the door behind me.”

She raised her eyebrow again. “You locked the door?”

“
Wóthe
ȟ
ila
, I told you I’d lock those yahoos out,” he replied. Then Chris raised his hands to cup her bottom, giving her
ass
a squeeze. He dipped his nose into the apex of her thighs again, finding and stroking his nose against her clitoris. Martie whimpered again and one of her hands fisted in his hair.

He reached for the waistband of her panties and drew them down, staring for a moment at the short, dark bush of curls in front of his face. He hadn’t taken the time to notice before, but she was well-groomed; something he’s always liked about a woman was how well she took care of herself in a place most never got to see. Once more he leaned into her, this time flicking his tongue across that sensitive bud to taste her.

Martie cried out softly, her grip on his hair tightening.
“Stand a little wider for me, baby,” he breathed against her, and she readily complied, widening her stance. Chris stretched his tongue further and licked her folds. He swiped his tongue back and forth across the slick, salty-sweet skin,
her
moans of pleasure causing his cock to strain even harder against his fly.

He kept at it, licking her, teasing her clit, drawing it into his mouth. He could tell she was trying to stay quiet despite his assurances that they wouldn’t be heard, her moaning alternating between highs cries and low ones. This amused him, and unable to resist, he added a second torture to his fun, bringing his right hand into the play by slipping a finger into her.

Martie cried out at the same time as she pushed herself into his face. A second finger joined the first, and he pushed them in and out of her as he kept working his tongue against her. She pushed into his face again as if to take him deeper; now both hands were in his hair. She pulled at it tighter with every stroke of his ton
gu
e, every dip of his fingers into her hot sheath.

“Chris!” she cried out
,
her juices
suddenly
wetting the lower half of his face.

Chris continued his oral assault, allowing her to ride the waves of her pleasure
until he could no longer contain himself. He stood swiftly and grabbed her head, kissing her fiercely, deeply. Martie didn’t even hesitate to take her own essence into her mouth on his tongue, and that set him to burning even hotter. He needed her on his cock
now
.

Bending at the knee, he placed an arm behind hers and lifted her without breaking the kiss, carrying her over to one of the
six
twin-sized cots and laying her down. He yanked off the ankle boots on her feet and dropped them to the floor, followed by her slacks and her panties. He then undid his buckle and drew his zipper down, pushing his pants past his hips and stepping forward, ready to take her hard.

Martie surprised him by sitting up and taking his shaft in her mouth in one swift motion. Chris groaned, and returned the favor she’d shown him earlier by fisting his hands in her hair. Her tongue was wicked wet velvet against his hardened length, her mouth hot and moist and working pure magic as she licked and sucked up and down. She teased the head of him with her tongue, licking up the pre-come that seeped from the tip, then bobbed down again and took his entire le
ngth into her
mouth. He groaned again, louder—so few of the women he’d slept with were willing to deep throat him due to his size, but Martie was showing no such hesitation.

He almost came undone in her mouth, feeling the back of her throat against the sensitive head of his
member, and though he imagined one day doing so, he didn’t
want to
tonight. Chris pushed Martie back on the cot and pushed his pants down fu
r
ther. She opened for him, welcoming him into her moist heat. He crushed her lips beneath his and pushed into her deeply, and she cried out into his mouth as she wrapped her legs around him. Knowing they couldn’t be too long out of sight of the others, his pace was fast, his thrusts hard.
His sac slapping against her bottom
spurred him on, and he kept up the frenzied pace.

“Oh, God!
Yes,
yes!
More!” Martie cried hoarsely.

He responded by giving her what she wanted, thrusting faster and deeper. She felt so hot, so tight around him, so slick and… He couldn’t hold it in anymore, and groaning into t
he mattress, he emptied
into her. Martie started to cry out her own release and then silenced herself by biting and groaning into his shoulder, her hips bucking against him as
she climaxed a second time.

Slowly, steadily, they came down from their high, and Chris looked into her eyes as he struggled to steady his breathing. “You bit me.”

Martie chuckled as she rubbed the spot her teeth had claimed. “Sorry. I know you said there was soundproofing, but I didn’t want to chance being heard.”

“Does this mean I belong to you, now that you’ve marked me?” he queried.

Though he’d been joking when he said it, as he watched her studying him, Chris suddenly realized he
wanted
to belong to her. What they had was so new as to be raw, but it was passionate and powerful. He’d
felt cared for when he listened to her message on the recorder
, had
been scared for her when he’d heard she was hurt
, a
nd whenever he was around her he
wished the entire world would disappear, leaving just the two of them. It was both frightening and wonderful to feel this way about another human being, and he hoped like hell that feeling never went away.

“You belong to me, Christopher Paytah,” Martie said slowly as she caressed his cheek, “if I belong to you.”

Chris felt his
heart skip a beat. “Believe me—
I
want
you to be mine.”

“You know, we’re probably crazy, declaring ourselves off-limits to other people after knowing each other all of forty-eight hours,” she said then, a mischievous gleam lighting her eye.
“Are you sure you don’t want to play the field a little longer?”