CHAPTER ONE
Amy Lynn
I’m not supposed to be in here.
The room smells of leather, natural and earthy with an undertone of cool brisk air from a ceiling fan overhead—it flutters across my skin—strokes my arms, my face, the feather-like hairs of my bare thighs. A shiver runs through me. I lean back against the desk and take it all in. This room. This male dominated room excites me beyond measure. One word comes to mind. Forbidden. But I can’t help myself. I’m driven. Lost to my own desires. The deep carnal need to see if Brock…fucking-hot-as-hell…Fitzgerald is as scrumptious as I think he is. Why wouldn’t he be? I need to touch him to be sure, know if he’s real or is this all in my head. Besides, I lost the bet with my best friend, Jane. She swore I wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t dress up in this slinky fuck-me skirt. Wouldn’t steal into this firehouse. Wouldn’t sneak up to his bedroom. I’ll show her.
Slowly, I run my hand over the large flat plain of his desk. So hard yet firm with a soft blotter in the middle. The chair is next. A large masculine seat that cradles the plumpness of his ass, has made a dimple in the leather. I sink down in it slowly cradling myself. The leather hugs me. Fuck! I can almost feel him below me. Grinding inside my body. His cock. The weight of his thighs. Strong hands lifting me up. I’m on fire just imagining it. This is where Brock Fitzgerald sits! This is where Brock Fitzgerald lives! I swivel my head. That over there is where Brock Fitzgerald sleeps!
I leap from the chair, wanting to explore more.
Standing at the window that overlooks the city, I place my hands upon the glass. It’s cool but not cold. It’s morning now and rush hour has come and gone. I’m imagining what it looks like at full dark, all bright lights and rushing cars, and then at midnight—the silence as stars come out to play. So romantic. So…peaceful. I imagine he spends a lot of time overlooking the city. The city he keeps safe. Spending long hours and endless days, a fireman’s life has got to be consuming. Perhaps he masturbates a lot. Just to take the edge off of his loneliness. Maybe a hand, pressed to the glass. Right where mine is. No one would see him on the third floor. Didn’t guys do that when they worked too much and didn’t have time to date? With no siblings, much less brothers, I didn’t know. I only knew what I read in books.
I turned my head. Focused on the twin sized bed in the corner, I imagine Brock lieing on a very plain comforter. No color. No ruffles or frills. I wonder if he sleeps naked. I guess a man in his position doesn’t sleep with other men so he can sleep anyway he wants. He might even bring women up here. I hope that isn’t true. I’d like to be the first. His one and only actually. His sex slave if he’ll have me. Like Jane said, It’s time for me to get down and dirty but I need the right teacher.
Taking in the personality of the office, I can tell this is Brock’s home away from home. I have a rough idea of the hours firemen keep, which means he spends a good deal of time here.
. It isn’t exactly what I pictured. But what had I pictured ? Paintings of dogs playing cards? Sure. Maybe a nude calendar on the wall? Certainly not a bronze sculpture of an Indian head on his desk or rare Italian paintings on the walls. At least, they looked rare. And extremely expensive.
I reach inside my purse, fumble for one of those fruit flavored hard candies I keep on supply, unwrap it, and pop it in my mouth. I’m in Brock Fitzgerald’s office, chief of the Intercourse Texas Fire Company. Holy shit! I flop down in the chair, put my feet up on his desk and smile. Yeah, I know about the sexual innuendos. I’d become accustomed to the quirky name of my home town. It didn’t bother me but lately hearing the word, Intercourse—linked to Brock Fitzgerald’s name makes my heart speed up. And that’s not all! I’ve worn out so many batteries in my vibrator—I should have purchased stock in the Power Company.
I can’t believe I did it! This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever done and totally out of character for me. I’m not a dare devil by nature, but when Jane suggested one of us sneak into the fire house living quarters, I just had to stack the deck. I’d actually used marked cards in a game of poker to make sure I would lose although losing wasn’t how I thought of it. How very ‘bad girl’ of me I know.
I’m in Brock Fitzgerald’s office! I can’t stop thinking this—or smiling.
I’ve been fantasizing about the man ever since puberty but I never thought I’d have the guts to go through with something like this. I decided he would be my first or at least I’d get to see him naked. Not sure how this actually is going to pan out. I planned it like one plans dating a rock star some day. No one really thinks it will happen so they don’t get beyond that first step in their devious little plan. But one day, I got my wish. About seeing him naked that is. Well, half naked. I took it as a sign of more to come.
Three weeks ago, on our way to the Thirsty Turtle, Jane and I drove by the Firehouse. “Stop. Stop, stop, stop,” I shouted nearly catapulting my best friend through the window. “Jesus, Jane, what…?” Then she saw what caught my eye, pulled over to the side of the road, and shut off the engine. We watched from across the street as Brock and five other shirtless hotties washed down their fire trucks. God, he was gorgeous! Smooth bronzed skin, tatted and thickset, broad shoulders, and strong arms. Sun glowing from gold centers in his deep amber eyes. And that ass! It should have been illegal. No man should look that good from behind. I watched through binoculars and Jane and I took turns. Every time my fantasy man stretched to wash his truck, my knees buckled and my hand began to sweat. Once, I got carried away and yanked too hard at the rope holding the binoculars around Jane’s neck. I nearly strangled her. Yeah, I know. But it was only the once.
Watching Brock Fitzgerald did something to me. And who wouldn’t be affected by a man like that? He was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts with that delicious chest all glistening in the sun. A very hot sun. I wondered how he smelled. And hell yes, I wondered how he fucked. I had to fan myself to keep vertical. Jane laughed and said she was glad I was finally showing an interest in a man. Any man. I was the last known virgin over the age of twenty one. Or so she informed me. “I’m saving myself,” I told her. “Besides I want it to be with the right person.”
“You mean with Brock Fitzgerald.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Dream on, girlfriend.”
I can see Jane’s face now. She won’t believe how easy I slipped through the door. I didn’t break in. The office had been unlocked. All I had to do was eat a few pancakes. Yup. Pancakes with hot sweet syrup and pads of melted butter. August first is the annual pancake breakfast for Intercourse Fire Company and even though the pancakes sucked big time, I blended perfectly into the crowd. I knew the upstairs of the firehouse would be deserted so this was my chance. Most of the men would be serving flapjacks and sausages, eggs and coffee, followed by tea and coffee for however long they had to. Mmmm. Sausages. I wonder how big...
I hear footsteps and then a sigh. I shrink down behind the desk. The door creaks open and I hear him. “Damn cleaners,” he mutters as he rights one of the photos on his wall. Heavy breathing. Then his feet stop dead, like he’s contemplating something.
“Someone in here?” asks a rich whiskey voice.
I hold my breath for what seems like eternity, but it escapes me with a soft mewing sound.
“Huh.” A clearing of his throat. He pushes the door open wide and my breath shudders out completely. Footsteps come closer. Closer. “I said, is someone in here?” His voice fills the room—sucking up the oxygen. Does he know I’m in here? Of course he does, you scaredy cat.
I can’t breathe, must less move. What the hell was I thinking? My heart is beating so loud, certainly it’s why he knows I’m here. What if he’s angry? What if he calls my stepmother?
“Come out from back there.” He knows.
I can’t move though. I’m frozen to the spot. Those shoes. Those glistening black shoes come closer.
“I said come out! Now! Or I’ll drag your ass out!”
On my hands and knees, I crawl from behind the desk and glance up at the hottest yet scariest man I’ve ever seen in my life. Dark smoldering eyes beneath a short spiked haircut.. He looks a bit blurry though. “I…I…I’ve left my glasses in my purse,” I blubber as I move forward. “Down…downstairs.” I realize my skirt is riding above my hips so I struggle to pull the hem down. When I look up, I can just make out something twirling from Brock’s fingers. My glasses? He has my glasses! He places them in his shirt pocket and scowls. “I…I didn’t think…”
His eyes darken even further. “Nothing gets by me, little girl. Now, get up.”
For a minute I bristle. Who the hell does he think he is? Of course I’m in no position to argue. Rising, I perch my hands on my hips giving him my best tough-girl grimace. Or as tough as a girl can get wearing a skirt two sizes too small and heels she can’t quite walk in.
He tips his head to the side and waggles a finger at me. “Okay darlin’, what’s going on? You wanted to volunteer Thought you could talk me into it or something?”
“No. I…”
“Or were you trying to rip me off? And don’t lie to me. Liars get punished where I come from.” He takes a step closer, his brows low, shadowing his eyes of liquid steel.
Did he say punished? Mmmm. That sounded like fun. The thought of going over Brock Fitzgerald’s knee makes me moist. Slick with moisture.
I should be scared but I’m not at all. Not anymore. I’ve read enough from the papers to know this man is not violent. Dangerous? Yes but in a different way. Like a dog, barking for the sake of barking, letting me know this is his domain.
A slight smile quirks his lips. “What are you grinning at?” His voice booms through the room like a battering ram taking down a castle, shattering any illusions I may have had that this was a man to be controlled, influenced, or derailed from what he wants.
“Nothing,” I squeak, not breaking our concentration on each other as I shakily rise to my feet.
The sun’s rays filter in from the window causing a sort-of divide. Floating currents of electricity sizzle on the dust motes between us. I teeter on my heels wondering what I do next. What I say. How I act. He comes closer, puts his hands upon the desk—close enough to kiss me. Even without my glasses, I can see how devastatingly handsome he is. About six foot four with muscles like a linebacker, his head shaved incredibly close. Like a military man. It makes him seem older, wiser. Experienced. Oh god. Of their own free will, I reach toward him, my hand hovering in mid-air. I want to brush those spiky points, see if they’d be soft against my breasts, my belly and… Quickly I drop my hand but he grabs it before I can pull away.
“Maybe I should call the police,” he threatens. “ Tell them I caught you robbing me. Or… No. I could take matters into my own hands I suppose. Put you over my knee perhaps?” The smile grows wider. Then he rolls up his sleeves like he’s actually going to spank me and its all I can do not to bend over and let him. I’d read about punishment on the internet, the thin thread between pleasure and pain and the excitement it can bring a woman. I’m a novice at this stuff but I want to experience what I’ve never experienced before. All of it. I can almost feel the sting on my ass. Imagine his palm print on my bare buttocks. “I’m not a thief,” I say. “So you better. You better…”
HERE “Better what?” His eyes travel up the length of me and I know what he’s thinking. Or I hope I do.
Will she scream if I seduce her?
Did she come here just for me?
I will scream! I’ll scream your name when you make me come.
“Little girl,” he says. “Going where you don’t belong.” I gasp as he invades my personal space, arms trapping me against the desk. One arm snakes behind me, pulling me into his chest. The heat of his body scalds me, robbing me of breath. The hand behind me slides higher up my back while the fingers of his other lace through my hair, nails scraping at my scalp. Then he pulls back my head back and kisses the tiny pulse inside my neck—lays nibbles along my shoulder, neck, and then captures me with his lips. When he breaks away he pulls back and says, “so sweet. So fucking sweet.”
I can hear my own heartbeat, feel my pulse inside my ears. His entire body exudes so much energy and raw passion, I can’t resist him. I know I should but I can’t. He must feel it too because he pulls me in closer and kisses me so fiercely, it takes my breath away. A slight panic as my brain kicks into flight mode. What am I doing? I don’t even know this guy. Not really. I break off the kiss, feeling needy and breathless, my face heated. But this is what you want! You know you do, Amy Lynn. Be brave.
His deep amber colored eyes search mine as if looking for agreement and he smiles a slow smile. I smile too. How can I not? Before I know what I am doing, I unbutton my blouse for him. And not just unbutton it but slowly while humming a strip tease and licking my dammed lips. Where had I learned to do that? Like a wild animal, he watches me, a gaze of raw heat aimed directly at my breasts. I love how he looks at me. Like he must have me or die. I love how I feel in his arms. Cherished and warm. I love how my core throbs between my legs, my usual firm resolve, unraveling into sharp tattered bits. He wants me and I know it.
“I know what you want,” he say, not bothering to elaborate. “But I think you should tell me anyway.” His gaze is intense and I swear I couldn’t and wouldn’t look away from him if the building was on fire as his eyes search my face. His breath smells of peppermint, his skin hot musk. The sculpted muscles of his arms flex sharply, making them erect as he sweeps a lock of hair behind my shoulder, brushing the bare skin of my neck.
Pinning me with that dark sexy glare while his hands rub up and down my back he asks, “So which is it? Are you a good girl or a bad one?” Stepping back, his gaze travels lower and he cups both breasts, kneading them firmly and pinching my nipples through my bra. My nipples harden painfully.
Bad. Bad. Tell him bad.
“I— What do you want me to say, Mr. Fitzgerald?” Part of me wants to tell him I’m only twenty two, as if that would explain everything or nothing. That I only snuck in here because I was curious, but the bigger part of me, the naughty part, wants him to find out if there is more to Brock Fitzgerald than I read in the papers. More to him being just a firefighter.
“I see you know who I am. I’m boss around here young lady and if I do find out you’re a thief…”
“No. No, I’m not here to steal anything. Honest. I just…” His hands slip below my blouse, traveling upward until they reach their destination. Blunt fingers push beneath my bra. Oh god. A little moan escapes me and my face heats up.
“You just what?” His smell makes me heady, his voice exhilarating. I practically choke out my next words. “I wanted to see…I…I just wanted— ”
“To see something you’ve never seen before. Is that it?” There’s a brief silence and then a very curious, “Hmm?” He winks at me and I’ve never seen anything sexier. I’m grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. I’m making out with Brock Fitzgerald! The man has rescued more people than Superman. He’s a goddammed legend and he just winked at me!
Brock picks me up and sets me on the edge of the desk, but he doesn’t pull his hands away. They’re molded to my hips as I stare into those piercing eyes. A hot primal need explodes in his expression. He traces the mole along my cheek and looks at me questioningly. Embarrassed, I gab his hand.
“You don’t want me to notice this, do you?” he asks. “It’s beautiful though. Like Miss Kitty’s birthmark in Gunsmoke.” His quiet laughter rumbles in my ear. “Sorry. I’m dating myself. Probably before your time.”
“I know who she is,” I say brightly. “She’s the saloon girl in that old serial.”
“You’ve seen it, have you? I’m impressed. It aired before you were born.” Warm hands slip beneath my skirt, simmer my skin with heat. I moan at his touch. Such soft hands, yet so commanding. He grins, obviously pleased by my reaction.
“I watch the old television shows with my dad.” I’m not ready to reveal more than that. Not now. Not like this.
“Ah. So what should we do now?”
I blink my surprise, going for shy innocence. I know exactly what I want but— . Is that allowed? Should I play hard to get? My breath comes fast telling me not to over think this.
“Something you wanted to see,” he says running a thumb along the side of my face, down my chin and across my lips. “I think I should be the one to see some part of you first. It is my office.” The thumb slips inside my mouth and I grab it between my teeth . His eyes flash. I can see the muscles in his neck tense as his gaze swallows me up. “Good girl,” he croons. “I see you’re playful.” He finishes unbuttoning my blouse for me revealing a white lacy bra that’s barely there, made to look bigger by the pads underneath. “Gorgeous,” he says kissing the plump parts oozing from the cups. I’m not very big but he doesn’t seem to mind. His hands slip up my back and he fumbles with my bra clasp. With the skill of an expert, my breasts bounce free. “And this?” he says glancing down between us. He lifts my skirt further which is riding on my hips, revealing pink panties with hello kitty on them. He chuckles at the panties and I throw my head back as kisses trail from neck to breast. Tiny prickles of heat burst below his tongue. My body is on fire, my core clenching unbearably.
His hands are all over me now. On my breasts and between my legs. I sizzle and I writhe as a finger circles my little nub, squirming as he explores every inch of me. Sliding his finger in and out, the little bundle of nerves spring to life. “Mmmm. Such a pretty, naughty little girl. Now what should we do with you?” His brown eyes practically glow in the dim light and I can see he likes seeing me undone. He’s pushing me. Taking it slow yet igniting all my senses one by erotically one. The perfect teacher. The perfect partner. My breath comes in short hot pants, anticipation fueling me. I feel the loss terribly when he pulls his finger out.
His controlled features break into a grin. “Now, where are my manners? You said you came here to see something.”
“Mmmm hmm,” I say. My heart thuds faster.
“I think I know what you want to see but first...” His arms wrap around me while he slides off my bra off one shoulder and then the other. I gasp, melted from his hot stare as his hands travel down himself, hooking a thumb inside his waistband. This is it! This is it, Amy Lynn! Fuck! Already I can feel him. Stretching and moving inside me. The pulse of his cock. The way my clit grabs and holds him there. My own gradual rise into womanhood. Fuck, I want him. I want him more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. Brock Fitzgerald isn’t a boy. But I didn’t want a boy for my first time. I wanted a man. This man.
“I wonder if I should punish you for going where its forbidden,” he says taking the last of my bra and flicking it over his shoulder. It slaps against the wall. I lick my lips, hoping he isn’t serious but prepared for it just the same.
The overhead fan kicks on fluttering an American flag that’s suspended from the ceiling making me shiver. Pulling me closer, large hands stroke me from hip to my neck. He leans in, cups my chin in one hand while sliding a tongue inside my mouth. Tasting and sucking with fever. With the other hand he squeezes my ass with one hard-muscled hand. The kiss deepens, my skin burning beneath his touch. It’s the most erotic kiss I’d ever experienced and I want to fuck him right here. Right now. On this desk.
“Awe baby, you’re freezing.” Without taking his eyes off me, he reaches over my head for a black and yellow fire jacket. He slips it on me, leaving it open in the front. My nipples stiffen in the cold and he offers an appraising smile. “Now stand up and slip that naughty little skirt off.”
I unzip the skirt in the back, a little black number made of leather that shows off my long legs. Something I never would be caught dead in until today. It puddles by my feet as I step out of it.
“Now the panties,” he commands in a firm masculine voice.
“M…My panties?”
“If you’re sure you still want this.” He holds back, waiting, the air still charged around us. “We can stop right now if you want.” He laughs. “But I sure as hell hope you don’t want to.”
I take a step back, confused at my own hesitancy. I’m almost naked beneath the coat but for some reason taking the panties off makes me heart seize. I bite back tears knowing what he expects and hoping I don’t disappoint. I want him. I want…this. It will hurt though. I know that.
“It’s all right,” he soothes, wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Should we stop now?”
“N…no.”
“Okay. We can work around the panties. For now. I guess it’s your turn anyway.”
“M…m….my turn?”
He backs up slowly. I make to follow but he halts me in my tracks. “No. No, you stay where you are…and watch. I want to see your reaction. I want to see…the hunger in your eyes.”
I am hungry for him and even more ravenous when I see what he has to offer. I watch, gob smacked as he undoes his belt buckle and unzips his pants. As my eyes loom large, he yanks the belt out of the loops with one swift whoosh. He tosses it forward, startling me as a hard silver buckle depicting a fireman cradling a baby hits the desk with a loud clank—dangerously close to my right hip. I glance back at the man before me. So hot and oozing of raw need and male dominance that I would go with him anywhere. Do whatever he wanted. Does he like what he sees? Does he want me as bad as I want him? The bulge in his boxers tells all . My nipples chafe against the coat almost painfully. “I want you, sweetheart.” That smile. The heat behind his eyes. The way he moves. Sleek. Graceful. A man who knows what he wants and takes it.
“Please.”
“Come here, baby girl. Come see what you came for.” I stroll toward the desk, trying to act sexy but I’m still wobbly in my four inch black stilettos. Amber eyes stare back at me as he slides down his pants. A hand reaches for mine and before I know what he is doing, my palm is on his cock. Tentative fingers wrap around the hardness of him but I’m not really sure what to do. “Move your hand like this,” he coaxes sliding my fist up and down him. “Aw fuck. Your hands are like magic.” I want to see him, see how excited he is but we’re so close all I can do is feel. Then his tongue is in my mouth, his lips pressed to mine. He breaks off, breathing heavy. “I’ve been horny as hell, little girl. Ever since I saw you downstairs in those fuck-me-up-the-side-of-a wall heels. I knew you were up here. Knew that fine ass was waiting for me.”
Holy shit! What is he, a mind reader?
He tilts up my chin, presses his lips to mine, our tongues swirling and dancing, stealing each other’s breath before he bites my bottom lip. His hands mold my breasts. Pinching. Pulling. Little nips along my neck. I spread my thighs wide at his command and shimmy forward on the desk, pushing against his cock. Glancing down I see tiny ripples in the skin and something shiny on the tip. I’m so fucking drenched, I can smell my own sex. It arouses me even more. That magnificent cock jumps. Hard. Enormous. Eager to come out and play. Velvety smooth, my hands wrap around him again, but I’m afraid to squeeze too hard. “It won’t bite, little girl.” He growls into my hair. “Take it out and play. It’s yours.” Every sense in my body is screaming, demanding I take what is offered. “See what you do to me with your hot little body? See how fucking hard I am.” His fingers dip below my panties as I grip him in my fist. “Stroke it. Stroke it, baby girl.”
I get into a rhythm, rubbing. He groans while his fingers brush my sex. I push forward letting go of his cock so I can grab onto the desk for leverage. Wanting his dick inside me. Needing it. Wanting more. Harder. Faster. Wishing I could tell him but I’m too shy. Too young. I’m panting and I nearly shout as the pads of his fingers slide up and down my tender folds, bruising the bundle of nerves there. When he focuses his touch on the little nerve endings, it’s almost too much. My heart nearly stops and then starts up again triple time. “Oh god!”
“So sensitive and sweet. That’s it. Feel it. Let your body go, sweetheart.”
I do. So much. Letting every atom of my body rise in glorious erotic pleasure, I utter a timid moan.
“No one will here you if you scream.”
Scream? Why would I? “Oh my fucking god. Yes!”
“What’s your name…sweetheart?” Absurdly I realize I hadn’t even introduced myself. What is wrong with m? Fuck! Coming. Coming! I can hardly get the words out. “Amy…Amy Lynn. Oh god. Oh!”
He stares down at my hand, which has gravitated to his cock again. “Yeah, just like…Like that. Ah fuck. Fuck! You’re going to make me come.” He dives in for another kiss, all lips and wet tongue, claiming me. It makes me happier than I’ve ever been which seems ludicrous. I’ve given myself up to him. This man. This older, chiseled in the image of the god, man, that I’ve fantasized about for months, is coming all over my hand.
His hot look rises from his fondling to my face, scorching me ten degrees higher as it settles on my eyes. Right before I’m about to come, his fingers stop, poised inside my pussy. “Please! Why are you stopping?”
“I have to. Too fast. If I don’t… Hold on. Hold on.” He leads me to the other side of the room. Taking a fireman’s cap off a shelf, he places it gently on my head. “Perfect,” he says, standing back to admire me. “A dirty little girl wearing the halo of a hero.” His rich whiskey voice soothes me. With both hands flat along the wall caging me, he kisses me while reaching down between our bodies. I feel tugging. Fear mixed with excitement skitters through my veins. A faint rip and my panties are flying across the room. A finger slips inside my core. Exploring. Tantalizing. Claiming me once again. I’m so close. So close I can taste it.
He’s groaning and sweating, hot breath breathing against my neck. His hard muscled body coils around my own. I know this is wrong and naughty like he said. Oh so naughty, but every time he calls me a little girl, it makes me hotter. Deep down, this was what I was hoping for when I snuck in here. I know it was. I didn’t really yearn to see where he slept. I wanted this.
“Oh!” His thumb presses the bundle of nerves between my legs and it swells, almost pulsing. My body wriggles up against the wall. “Oh god. Fuck! Brock, yes.”
“That’s it. That’s it. Say my name, you dirty little girl. Say my name while you come for me.” The way he talks should disgust me. I should slap him in the face. I should be insulted. I’m not. Not even a little. I fucking love the filthy way he talks to me. He groans, his touch becoming slower. I feel his cock along my leg and I wince as he strokes himself. “It’s okay, baby. Just relax. I’ll be gentle. Okay?”
I murmur my agreement but I’m scared as hell, trying to slow my heart. I feel his cock at the tip of my entrance. Gripped tightly in his fist, he rubs the tip up and down my inner thigh while stroking my clit with his other hand. An orgasm grabs hold. Higher and higher. All my senses on overload as I shoot off that high ridge. Like a rocket, I’m spun into fucking orbit.
“Brock! Yes. Yes.” My eyes close tight because I don’t want it to be over but it’s out of my control. Drenched with heat, my palms sweat. I don’t recognize who I am. Brock owns me. He controls every nerve inside in my body. Making me feel all things at once. So high. So fucking high. Every muscle. I’m keening and I don’t want him to stop as he brings me to glorious earth shaking climax. But he isn’t finished. His fingers pause but only for a second then resume the infinite stroking of my clit. I notice he’s barely touched himself through it all. Is he waiting for fuck me?
“So wet for me, little girl. So fucking wet. I bet you can do that again too.”
Is he kidding?
His fingers move faster, the friction making little slapping sounds. My body shudders with hot sparks. Again! Oh my god, Again. My body climbs to a credenza,.
“Come, little girl. Come for me even higher this time. Come. Come.” The words breathed into my ear—it heightens my pleasure.
The second orgasm grips me by the teeth, shakes me with its fangs with even more ferocity than before. The difference between a landslide and an avalanche. When I’m thoroughly sated, he says, “not done with you yet, little girl.”
I couldn’t ‘t possibly go again. “Brock. No. I…”
In a hot frenzied flash and still holding his cock with one hand, he flips the coat completely off my shoulders and it puddles to the floor, leaving me totally naked. I gasp as the cool air grips me, a little shocked. It happened so fast.
“Beautiful.” We switch positions. He perches his ass on the edge of the desk, cock pointing north, feet dangling. “Just stand there and let me look at you,” he says. “Let me look at this dirty little girl who stole into my sanctuary. She doesn’t want to volunteer to be a firefighter but she does want to see something.” His huge veined cock bobs up and down, the rosy pink slit glistening with pre-cum. “Touch yourself, Amy Lynn. Show me what a bad girl you are.”
I’ve never done anything like that in my life so I need a little coaxing. He guides my hand between my legs. “I find that sexy,” he breathes. “More than anything in the world.” I want to please him. “Pinch those nipples. That’s it and tell me how it feels. Tell me how wet you are for me. Ahhh,” He hisses through his teeth. “Tell me,” he commands in that alpha male voice of his.
“Yes. Yes,” I whisper. “I’m…I’m hot for you, Brock. So hot.”
“That’s it. That’s it. Now stroke yourself . Stroke that hot pussy that wants me to fuck it for the first time. And I will fuck you, Amy Lynn. Ahhhh!” His breathing escalates. “ Maybe not today but soon. And I’m the only one that will fuck you. Do you hear?” His big fist slides along his cock. Pulling and groaning as he strokes himself faster. I spread my legs a little, bringing my own joy to my clit . I fall back a bit, my balance off in these stupid heels of mine. If I could take them off gracefully and chuck them I would.
The hat falls off my head. “Oh!” I go to retrieve it, bending over just for him. I grab the edge of the desk, keeping myself from falling.
“Leave it, Amy Lynn. Leave the hat and bend over some more. Oh, baby, just like that. You have a fantastic ass! Good girl. Stroke that hot pussy and make yourself come for me again.”
I’m bent sideways, holding onto the desk for support, my ass open to Brock’s cock. Something hard and hot rests upon my bottom. I can feel his eyes, burrowing into my backside—he nearly burns me with his heat.
“I need to touch you,” he says. “I want to come all over that sweet ass of yours.”
I can’t see him but I can feel his pre-cum dripping. So sexy. So fucking sexy. Feeling my own swollen lips still pulsing with pleasure, I reach behind, settle my fingers around his cock and guide him up and down my cleft. “Like that?” My legs quake and finally I manage to slip the fuckers off but now I’m too short so I have to bend myself over more. It’s just enough.
His groaning grows louder. For a minute, I wonder about all those other firemen. Can they hear us down below? Do they know not to investigate? Is it understood? is this something they hear often? Before I can agonize too much, I hear Brock come with an earth quaking assault all over my ass, body shaking from the effort. Hot wet cream scalds my skin, drips along my crack and inner leg.
The way he talks should disgust me. I should slap him. I should be insulted. I’m not. Not even a little. I fucking love the filthy way he talks to me.
His crooked smile owns me. Fucking owns me and I know without a doubt, before any real words are exchanged, I would go anywhere with this man. I know it makes no sense. I know it could be the hormones talking but somehow I feel it.
Taking me in his arms he reaches around to my backside, his hard sculpted chest nestled inside my softness. He cups my bottom with both hands and rubs his cum into my back, legs, and hips. It feels dirty and wrong. But more right than anything I ever felt. He holds me at arm’s length, gently pushes me from him. “I should get you home. The breakfast is about over and the men will be returning. We want to get you out before they do.”
“I don’t care if they find us,” I said sternly, which gives him a great chuckle and the biggest smile I’ve seen.
“Hot dirty little girl.” He appears to ponder my words, flexing his lips. “Nope. Not yet.” Then he gives me one of those lion roaring kisses that turn my insides to jelly. As I bend to pick up my skirt, he gives my ass a hard smack. Not quite hard enough to leave a handprint. I would have fallen but Brock catches me quickly. He picks up the skirt and apologizes but there’s fire in his eyes as I slip back on my shoes. “I want you to turn around when you get home, look in the mirror and remember where you’ve been.” Then he tucks his business into his pants and begins buttoning his shirt. “Remember who has claimed you, Amy Lynn. No other shall have that sweet, sweet pussy but me.”
My heart soars with the revelation. I don’t want any other man either. Even though we’ve just met, I’ve been watching him, reading about his rescues, drinking in every word. Saw the interviews. Studied his career. I know he went to Harvard, studied physics and that he lifts weights every day. I know he’s never been married, is an only child, that he’s the most coveted bachelor on the planet. They even had a spread on him in GQ. I had my suspicions though—that there is more to Brock Fitzgerald than meets the eye.
“Oh, and Amy Lynn…” His eyes darken with danger, his eyes hooded. “Don’t rub my seed off until morning.”
“W…why?”
“I told you. You are mine. Wash my seed off that perfect baby skin and I may have to punish you. You probably deserve it after sneaking up here. Bend over, little girl.”
I look at him in shock, my mouth open, but then he laughs. “Just kidding.” Whether he means what he says or not, doesn’t bother me in the least, as long as he fucks me.
“I want you to be the first.” I whimper as his big arms wrap protectively around me, crushing me to him.
“I know,” he growls.
Now that we are face to face, I see faint lines around his eyes, dark stubble hiding the tougher skin, his eyes flashing with unbridled passion. He looks older than I thought he would—but that just makes me want him more. Unable to look away, I swallow, my cheeks warming.
I’ve always been a good girl, never crossing the line, always taking responsibility, but like Jane said, ‘it’s time’ and I want it. Need it like I’ve never needed anything in my life. Sex. Raw and dirty but I want more than that. I wanted this man.
“I’ve known that you were untouched since…since the minute I laid eyes on you downstairs.”
He was watching me? But…but how did he know I was a virgin? My thighs tighten. Even now, I can feel myself stretching, accommodating his girth. When I bend down to adjust the heel strap of one shoe, he slaps me on the ass, a loud whack that takes me by surprise. The palm of his hand lingers on my backside rubbing the sting. His fingers tease between my legs. “You like being spanked, don’t you?”
I do but I’d like being fucked even more. “I think I want to be punished.” I have no idea where these feelings are coming from.
He laughs. “I bet you do, but not now. I have to go to work. It’s a full moon and you know what that means for cops and firefighters.”
“Crazy people?”
“If only…”
He helps me button up. Turning, he grabs some keys off a hook on the wall. When he turns back around, he bends forward to grasp my hand, eyes raised to meet mine and my breath catches as he kisses each fingertip one by one. So romantic that my eyes fill with tears. A memory of my father kissing the hand of my mother. They were so in love. So passionate for each other. There’s a brief silence and then a curious, “You okay?”Those eyes. They glitter with gold centers and peer into my soul.
I nod, blinking back a tear. The last thing I want is to tell him is about my parents. It would just…taint things. I wanted this to be about me. Just me. I wanted him. I licked my lips and slid my hands down my whole body, lingering on my breasts as they jut out, showing him what he had—what is his.
“Mmmm,” he growls. His mouth is incredibly close, his words a hot brand upon my skin. When he takes me in his arms, I’m enveloped by so much heat, I wobble on my legs. Thick fingers rake across my back, my neck, beneath my hair along my scalp. “Amy Lynn…I like that name.” He straightens his shoulders and steps back. “I want you to know something about me. This can’t be a one night thing so you may as well know what I’m like right up front. I may come off as a little possessive, overbearing, and some have called me a hothead...”
“Well that seems an appropriate name,” I say with a smirk grabbing at the little tent inside his pants. “But you don’t know anything about me yet either.”
A slow smile spreads across his full lips. “Oh, I will. Believe me I will.” My pulse roars inside my ears.
“I’m not what you would call a warm and fuzzy guy around here. I can’t be. I’m the chief, for Christ’s sake. As a rule, I don’t let people close.” He chuckles again, a deep throaty laugh that makes my toes curl. “And no one, outside of the crew, has ever seen the inside of my office…until you.” Holy shit.
“And I don’t make it a habit of hiding under desks either,” I say. “Just so you know.”
“Fair enough.”
“No one? No one has ever been up here?”
“Nope. I don’t make it a habit of bringing women up here for nooners, in case you were wondering.”
I was wondering. A man—this hot. This gorgeous— must have a lot of girlfriends. “You have a lot of Indian things,” I remark, not knowing what else to say. “I take it, that’s in your background?”
“On my mother’s side. I’m half Indian, half Irish.”
“Really? Sounds like a pretty explosive combination. Should I be scared?”
He laughs. “I’m just a big pussy cat although I do have to keep up appearances.” I wasn’t sure how to take his admission of being a hothead. Did he have a temper? Or was that simply a caveman referral? I hoped for the later. My life, thus far, had been one of control. I’d always done the right thing, studied hard, did what I was told, took on responsibility with ease and grace but life got in the way anyhow. And I was tired of being good. I guess today I gave my wild side a little push.
His eyes lock on mine. “Actually, my parents were the perfect match. My mother taught me about the elements and how to respect them. My father valued nature, so much so that I spent most of my youth traveling and I’m not talking about Disney World.”
“No?” I was thrilled he was telling me things about himself and not rushing me out the door. For some reason he seemed less worried that we’d get caught by the other men. “So where did they take you?”
“Places that carried some level of risk. While other kids were going to amusement parks or on a cruise, I was off rock climbing or walking on glaciers. Dad got off on that shit.”
“So that’s why you became a firefighter?”
“Maybe.”
“And you’re parents? Are they still…?”
“Sadly, no. They died a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He waved his arms toward a shelf with several photographs of what looked like a very young Brock, accompanied by what I supposed were his parents on various excursions. One standing near a giraffe. Another dressed in firs like Eskimos. He picked up another photo, this one of a very old Indian, and then placed it back on the shelf. “I spend a lot of time here at the firehouse,” he said. “Unless I’m on a call, this is where you’ll find me.”
“You’re home away from home.”
He took my chin in his hands and kissed me softly. “I am a fireman so my hours are kinda screwy but I want you to know one thing, that if you need me and I’m not here I’ll be there as soon as humanly possible. ”
I couldn’t for the life of me, think of anything I’d ever need—except…him. His arms making me safe, that velvety tongue along my skin, his kisses on my neck, the commanding voice in my ears.
“Let’s finish dressing you. Turn around.” He zipped up my skirt.
Ten minutes later and after more passionate kissing, Brock drove me home in his scorching red Jeep Renegade, horns blaring. Brock was right about one thing. If I thought my relationship with him was going to be a secret, that he would keep me to himself, or that this was simply a one night stand, I was sorely mistaken.