How Do Firemen Make Love (Flame On) (7 page)

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, but he only chuckled.
 
She tried to turn around to face him, but he stopped her, his hands on her waist.

“I think you will like this better,” was all the warning she got before his hands slid up to weigh her breasts in his hands.

“Oh,” she panted as his hands familiarized themselves with her twin mounds.
 
Pushing herself into his hands, she couldn’t help but grind her ass on his erection.

“Yes.
 
Oh yes,” she gasped.

“Yes, you like this better?” he asked wickedly into her ear.

Nodding, she gasped as he began pulling on her nipples, making them even harder than before.

“Hmm, then I think you will definitely like this,” he said as his hand began the travel down south.

Her thighs opened up to him, giving him better access to touch her.

“You feel so good, all wet and hot, waiting for me to touch you, fuck you.
 
But I need you to open more for me.”
 
He then showed her what he meant by pulling her legs over his, her thighs spread wide, completely opening her to him.
 
“There, that’s how I want you.”

All she could do was feel as one hand went back to play with her breast and the other went to her nether lips, finding his way inside.
 
He nuzzled her neck as he continued to gently play with her, driving her crazy.
 
She grabbed fistfuls of the bed sheets as she moved against him, pleading for more.

“William, please,” she begged.
 
The bastard just ignored her and continued to do as he pleased.
 
He had found her clitoris and been alternating between petting and stroking her, but it wasn’t enough—she needed more.
 
When his left hand came down to join the right, she shouted with joy.

“Yes,” she screamed, arching against him, her head falling back onto his shoulder.
 
With one finger stroking her clit and first one, then two fingers plunging into her wetness, she was so close to an explosive orgasm.

“Move against my fingers, baby,” he instructed her. “You are so close, aren’t you?”

Rosie couldn’t respond because she was on the verge of climaxing.
 
If he moved his fingers just like that….and she exploded.

“William,” she yelled as her release hit her.

“Beautiful.
 
Absolutely beautiful,” she heard him say as he kissed her neck, shoulder, anywhere his lips had access to.

His hands were now soothing her, letting her recover from the best orgasm of her life.
 
Minutes later she felt him move, lifting her thighs off his, and then settling her down into the bed.
 
She had enough energy to turn her head to see him standing by the side of the bed as he pushed his boxers down.

She almost choked on her gasp as she saw just how huge he really was.
 
She thought the massive cock before her was a myth, just like the Loch Ness Monster or Bigfoot or the stupid
Chupacabras
.
 
She just didn’t know.
 
He was a big man, yes, and she’d figured he was going to be well endowed, but this was just ridiculous.

“I don’t know how you are going to get that inside me,” she said, pointing to his cock, “but I do know I am going to have to be a lot wetter than I am right now for you to fit.”

And his was response was to throw his head back and laugh.

“I don’t see anything funny about this,” she said, pouting.

“Sweetheart, we are going to fit.
 
You are going to be begging me to get inside you, begging me to fuck you hard.”

Her eyes widened at his words, but she was not given a chance to respond because he climbed back into the bed and settled himself between her thighs.

“Finally, I get to taste you,” he said before his head dipped down to capture her lips in a much anticipated kiss.
 
He slowly kissed her lips open and then swooped in and plundered her mouth.
 
Her hands came up to tangle in his hair, keeping him in place.

Rosie couldn’t get enough of his taste, his lips.
 
She never wanted the kiss to end, but he had rekindled the fire in her, and she needed more.
 
Lifting her legs around him, she began to rub herself against him.
 
William must have sensed her intentions because he pulled back and smiled slowly, wickedly at her attempts to get off again.

“None of that now.
 
The next time you cum, it will be with me deep inside”—he began trailing kisses down her neck—”with your nails biting into my shoulders”—he not so gently bit down on her shoulder before bathing away the sting with his tongue—”begging me,” he added.

She didn’t bother to deny everything he said, because she was ready to start begging and pleading for him to get on with it.
 
They must have been communicating on a psychic level, because he did just that.

He slowly began to enter her, all the while raining kisses on her nose, mouth, chin, shoulders.
 
Stopping about half way in, he let her adjust to his size, her vaginal muscles pulsating around him.

“Halfway there, brown eyes; stay with me.
 
Just a little bit more.”
 
He brought his lips down to hers once again, and she held on tight.

His hand came down to where their bodies were joined and quickly found her clitoris.
  
With strong strokes, he made her wild and wetter for him.
 
With one final push, he was deeply imbedded in her. He wrapped her legs around his waist, and they moved in unison, her nails digging deep into his shoulders.

“William,” she moaned as she broke free from his lips, taking in some much needed air.

“Please, yes, William, yes,” she rambled, repeating the mantra until he touched a place deep inside her that had her screaming, bucking against him. As she came hard for the second time that night, Rosie’s orgasm had him following close behind.
 
Thrusting harder, faster, he came with a loud bellow that his brother would have surely heard if he had been in the house.
 
Shuddering, Bill slumped onto his elbows and buried his face in the curve of her neck.

All that could be heard was the sound of them trying to get their erratic breathing under control.
 
Rolling onto his back, he brought her with him and settled her against his chest.

They lay together for a long time, watching the candles flicker and dance. The air was sultry and smelled of their combined scents and the smell of massage oil. William sighed, and his breath skipped over her heated skin and caused the flesh to dimple.

“Cold?” he whispered while drawing her closer.

“Never been hotter,” she replied as they drifted off to sleep.

*****

Laura stared at her screen. Logging into her email account, she saw that Dréa was right.
 
Her part of the fantasy challenge was neatly attached to an email and waiting for Laura’s verdict. There was also a warning label in small print. “Only Dréa.” She sighed. And read aloud:

What follows is pure, unadulterated fantasy.

Dréa Riley cannot be held responsible if you should

ruin your panties, pass out from laughter or pleasure, or

have a public orgasm. Remember that hot sex needs few words.

Read at your own risk.

Laughing, Laura opened the attached file and nearly jumped out of her chair when a pair of piercing green eyes popped up on the screen. Dammit, Dréa and her darn pranks.
 
Shaking her head, she scrolled farther down until she came to the first line of text and was immediately wrapped into a world only her best friend could have created.

Leave
’
Em Wet
Dr
é
a Riley

Karrington Louise Ahlbrite was absolutely exhausted.
 
She really literally felt on the verge of passing out. If she could only just make it from her car to the living room, she swore she’d sleep for hours. As one of the top spokespersons for a local PR Firm, Karri, as her current clients called her, was used to putting in overtime.
 
But working for the dynamic duo of romance authors Dréa Riley and Laura Guevara was more taxing than working with any of Hollywood’s up and coming. That wasn’t to say it wasn’t an adventure and a blast. However, since replacing her coworker, Theodore, last fall, Karri had spent more time giving press conferences and penning letters and doing general damage control than if she worked for all of Hollywood’s latest fuckups combined with all its disgruntled has-beens.
 
To say she was never bored would be an understatement.

And this latest incident! Good grief. How in the hell those two managed to get linked to a hotel fire on the famed Las Vegas Strip, she’d never know. She knew not to question the two. Even if she had, all they would have said was, “We didn’t do it.” There wouldn’t even be any inflection in their voices as they parroted the phrase. It was like they’d been brainwashed and reprogrammed to spout the mantra. There were times when she’d simply look at them or wave hello, and one or both of them would say, “We didn’t do it.” If she pointed out that she hadn’t spoken, let alone accused them of anything, they’d simply look at her and shrug before continuing to pretend to be innocent.

As she let herself into the sprawling two-story home, Karri sighed at the cool air washing over her. She sat her laptop and briefcase on the credenza by the door and scanned the ground floor for signs of life. The open floor plan down here let her quickly check all the common areas of the house. The house smelled of lemon and pine, so she knew her bosses were out. As fun as it was living here with the two when they were in Las Vegas, after the day she’d had covering their collective backsides, all she wanted to do was be alone and sleep.

Making her way into the kitchen, Karri kicked off her
Stuart Weitzman sandals and pulled the band from her thick raven hair. Sighing as the tension from having her locks bound so tightly to her scalp escaped her, she padded to the fridge and grabbed a juice box.
 
Smiling, she made a mental note to pick up some more when she went out for groceries. She didn’t know when the two divas would be home, but she didn’t want to have a grumpy
Dréa on her hands because the stash of kid-style snacks was depleted.
 
She also noted they were nearly out of corn tortillas and limes, so she’d need to make sure to snag some of those as well. Though Laura wasn’t as eccentric as Dréa, she was very picky about what she would eat, and she accompanied every meal with a tortilla and lime.

Shrugging her shoulder, Karri snagged a banana from the fruit bowl and made her way upstairs to her room, unbuttoning her shirt as she went.
 
She’d spent hours wishing she could just come home and get out of the expensive torture device that was her bra. Hell, if Dréa offered to cut her boobs off again, she might just take her up on the offer.

Topping the stairs, she stood for a moment and undressed, dropping the nondescript white shirt and khaki-colored skirt on to the landing, near where the washer was hidden behind closed double doors. Karrington had no clue of the picture she made standing with her arms over her head, working out the kinks. She had no clue how her long ebony locks looked touching the top of her high, round butt as she braced her hands on her lower back and arched to relieve the tension that had been pooling there and in her neck. With the twin globes of her breasts pressing upwards, the satin of her bra did nothing to hide their turgid peaks. Peaks that challenged a man to risk life and limb to conquer their slopes. Karrington had absolutely no clue of the invitation she was sending—and that only a mere hundred yards of air separated her from a man who was ready and willing to fan the flames of her desire and then slake his thirst on her nectar.

*****

Matthew Harveston was turned on. Screw that; turned on is what happens to sixteen-year-olds when flat-chested, non-related females walked by. Matt was beyond turned on—there were no words to describe the way he was feeling. Complicate that with the fact he was standing outside the home of some of the craziest females on earth in broad daylight, staring at a half-naked goddess with his entire manhood straining against the button fly of his jeans. Matt shook his head and looked around, hoping no one had seen him staring into the window and praying that if someone had seen him, the person hadn’t followed his gaze and watched the same striptease he’d seen.

He’d been on his way to check on his two new favorite divas.
 
Despite the fact that in the scant few days since meeting them, he’d realized they were more of a danger to society than he’d been led to believe, Matt loved hanging out with Laura and Dréa. Life was never boring. The two lived like overgrown kids, playing video games and riding the go-carts around their expansive backyard. He’d had to pull a couple of long shifts down at the station, so he hadn’t seen them since they’d been cleared of any wrongdoing in the recent hotel fire.
 
Not seeing the dynamic duo was trouble. Like children, when you couldn’t hear them and couldn’t see them, they were probably up to no good.

Matthew had no clue that when he’d set out down the block from his house he was going to see a peepshow, let alone find himself standing in the middle of his neighbors’ driveway, willing his cock to soften so he could move without blowing his wad into his suddenly too tight denim.

Taking a deep breath and looking back up toward the window, he was about to turn and go home, making a mental note to remind his two new friends that it was completely unsafe not to have that window covered. Especially if they were going to be prancing around naked. A thought struck Matt. Whoever that vision had been, she was not Dréa, nor Laura.
 
Who was she, and what was she doing in the duo’s home, standing naked on the second-story landing for God and everybody to see?

Halfway back down the block towards the home he shared with his twin, Matt turned back and looked questioningly at the house at the end of the street.

In that moment, he noticed something else he’d missed while he’d been staring at the dark-skinned beauty. She’d left the front door open. Anyone could walk in off the street. Never mind the fact that the house was pretty nicely furnished; as far he could tell, whoever was visiting was also alone in that house. Anything could happen. He’d just go up and check that everything was okay and make sure she closed and locked the door. Yup, simple. In and out. No worries.

Once he reached the front door that stood more than halfway open, Matt knocked soundly on the frame.

“Hello, Hello!” he called out, his deep voice resonating throughout the lower floor.

“Dréa? Laura? Hello.” Stepping farther into the home, he looked around. The place showed signs of recently being cleaned, which told him the girls must have planned to be out of town for a few days and called in a cleaning service. He wondered if that was who the person he’d seen in the window was, some maid or something. He’d be sure to let Laura and Dréa know what kind of help they’d hired. The woman had probably known she could be seen out the window from that angle.
 
He knew both divas were real particular about their privacy and would not be pleased to find that someone they trusted had taken advantage of them.

Looking around with a more serious eye, Matt noted that nothing seemed to be missing. The only thing out of place was the expensive-looking high heeled sandals that seemed to have been dropped at the foot of the stairs.
 
Picking them up he noted the size; to small do be Dréa to large to be Laura.
 
And whoever owned the shoes was still in the house.

Treading carefully up the stairs and listening for any sound, Matt hoped that whoever was in the house hadn’t made it to the back of Dréa’s closet—he so didn’t relish being shot today. Training his ears to pick up the smallest sound, he moved across the landing past the game lounge toward the bedrooms. Standing in the small hallway, he saw that the doors to both Laura and Dréa’s rooms were closed; however, the door to the oft unused guest room was wide open.
 
Upon closer inspection, the guest room looked as if it had been occupied for a few days. The bed covers were mussed, and there were shoes and books tossed haphazardly about on the plush carpet.

Nearly all the way into the room, Matt’s muscles tensed, and he nearly threw himself on the floor when he heard a muffled groan coming from the in-suite bathroom. There was another small moan, followed by the soft splashing sound of water. Tiptoeing his way to the bathroom door, Matt held his breath, waiting to see if the noise would come again.

Looking through the gap in the doorway, he was able to see the room clearly reflected in the large, gilded, floor-to-ceiling mirror. On the floor near the stand-alone shower was a crumpled pair of hose and some soggy underwear. As if the owner had stepped into the running shower with them on, then tossed them out.
 
The shower was still dripping, as if she’d forgotten to turn it completely off. Using the mirror to continue his scan of the room, Matt zeroed in on the source of the muffled cries.

She wasn’t hurt as he’d previously thought, but asleep. Asleep, and in danger of drowning in that deep-jetted tub. Matt made a move to open the door when the sound of her soft snoring was cut off by gentle choking. She’d obviously let herself sink too low in the water. Glancing in the mirror, he saw her sit up a bit and roll her head on the cushioned neck-rest. From this new angle, Matt could see those dark cocoa-colored breasts he’d admired from the street. The mirror was giving him the perfect view of her prone body.

Dammit, what was wrong with him? He knew it wasn’t right for him to be standing here staring at her, but he was helpless to turn away. If he were a gentleman he’d go back downstairs right this minute and close the front door and go home.
 
No one had ever accused him of being a gentleman before.

*****

Karrington stared into the huge mirror through hooded eyes. From her vantage point, she could see the door to the bathroom and the image of a man standing slightly to the side of it.
 
She’d recognized those green eyes the moment she’d opened hers. He was a firefighter. He’d actually been over to hang out with Dréa and Laura a couple of times since they’d had their “incident.”
  
Matt, yeah, that was his name. He and his twin brother were definitely drool-worthy. She wondered what it would take to get the Divas to write her a little tale about a tryst between her and one of the twins. Something hot and steamy that she could commit to memory.

Truthfully, she’d already been dreaming about him while the little jets on the tub worked their magic on her tired muscles. Scooting lower into the deep tub, Karrington adjusted her angle so she could get a better view of the hunk peeking at her. She should be outraged, afraid, something. But she wasn’t. What she
was
was turned on. She felt a warm, wet heat between her thighs that had nothing to do with the tub full of water that would soon be pruning her skin.

From her new angle she not only had a better view of her guest, she had also created an unbelievable angle for one of the jets to force water between her thighs. The moment the stream hit her honey box, she let out a startled moan. It felt so good she couldn’t simply pretend to be asleep anymore. Sucking her full lower lip into her mouth, she braced her feet against the end of the tub and brought her hands out of the water to cup her full breasts. Risking one final glance in the mirror, Karrington proceeded to put on a show for her voyeur.