Another FILF: (Fireman I'd Like to F**k) (Hotshots Book 2) Read online

  Huge bursts of lust pool in my core and ripple through every limb. Without being able to focus on a visual stimulus, I’m lost in the sensation of Shawns’ coarse muscle flexing beneath his leathery hot skin. After that, everything is inside me and intensified a thousand per cent. I might explode like a gas tank meeting flames from the need pressing at my edges. All my focus is on one tiny bundle of flesh and nerves. I have just enough presence of mind to suppress the keening I know will wake the dog, but it takes all my concentration. His tongue sends honeyed fire through me.

  Unable to stop myself, I fist his hair and press him closer into my spread pussy. He responds by pushing his tongue hard into me, scooping at the walls. I gasp, and he returns to sucking, licking, and lightly nipping my clit. I’m going to come, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it or even slow it down.

  I arch, bowing off the carpet in ecstasy, and every nerve in my body fires at once. “Ahhhhhhhh!” I can’t help it. The guttural sound rips from my throat. His hand covers my mouth instantly.

  My pussy clenches convulsively, once on nothing, and then on his fingers, which he’s pushed into me as the aftershocks keep me twitching and trembling. As I come down, I clutch his hair again and pull him up for the deep kiss I crave, tasting myself.

  10

  Shawn

  My balls are in fucking agony with the need to bury my dick inside that tight pussy. She’s limp, spent, but I’ll bring her back to the edge before I take my clothes off. She’s kissing me like her life depends on it, our tongues tangling, my hands on her breasts, hers fumbling at my coat.

  I pull back.

  “Hey, baby. Was it good for you, too?” I grin, though she can’t see me.

  “Oh, my God.”

  I rise on my knees, shrug out of my coat and pull my t-shirt over my head. Her hands are on my chest, beckoning me to lie next to her. But my pants are still in the way, and I can’t get them off until the boots are off. I roll onto my backside and bend to undo the laces.

  Even though it’s dark as midnight in hell down here, she somehow finds my boots, and undoes one lace while I undo the other, kick the boots off, and lift myself on my heels and shoulders to get my pants off. She’s helping, tugging desperately at my clothes like her life depends on getting me out of them. I push her hands away and undo the belt buckle and stiff button on the pants. Her itchy fingers are already back. She unzips me and reaches inside.

  I’m commando. I’m always commando. Who has time to deal with underwear when there are women to fuck on my breaks? Her little hand encircles me, and the rest of my reason goes out the figurative window as her lips follow.

  Her mouth is warm, sweet, and greedy. She swirls her tongue around the engorged head. Fuck, I wish I could see her taking me between those soft lips. My pole disappearing into that sweet wet mouth and into her throat. She sucks, hard, and my balls tighten. Her fingers clench me at the root, while her other hand explores my tight balls gently.

  Damn, she’s good.

  I lie back fully as she swings one knee over my leg and then the other. She’s kneeling, servicing my dick with her mouth, and I’m going to lose it soon. But I don’t want it to stop. When I can’t take it anymore without exploding, I grip her arms and try to lift her.

  “Stop, unless you want me to come in your mouth,” I gnarl out.

  I die a little as she pulls her lips all the way to the head and releases me.

  “Would you like that?” she purrs.

  Hell, yes, I’d like that. But I’d like to come inside her even more. She’s tight as a virgin, from disuse, I suspect. That loyalty to her man is hugely attractive to me. I’ve become too accustomed to the other kind of woman. This time, with Lila, I want to take my sweet time. I long to tease her to the brink of orgasm over and over, for as long as I can hold out.

  She may not know it, but the fire has passed. I can tell but I guess that comes from experience. Already it’s cooler in here, and the roaring noise is gone. But I figure we have at least an hour before my crew makes it up here to see if we’ve survived. I plan to make use of every minute.

  “Next time, maybe,” I answer. “Come here.”

  She climbs up my body and straddles me, taking my dick in her hand and guiding me into her. Just the tip. For a second, I hold my breath as she hovers there. With exquisite care, she takes me, an inch at a time, until we’re connected as deeply as we can be. Her soft sounds of pleasure make me leap within her. The sensation of the entire length of me pushing at hers has me rasping for air.

  “Move your hips a little, sweetheart,” I husk. “You’ve got me pinned here.”

  She doesn’t answer. I’m forced to visualize that look of utter satisfaction she had in the studio, but it’s all right. I can feel the muscles of her inner walls milking me. She’s sliding up and down, but so slowly I can’t take it anymore. Flexing my whole body, I lift her and roll, pinning her beneath me.

  “Lift your legs, baby. Give me more.”

  She splays her legs and wraps them around me, running her hands over my back and digging in like before. That’s my signal to pump, hard and fast. I hunch over and latch onto one nipple, biting softly every time she digs her nails into my back. Soon, I’m biting harder, and she’s drawing blood, I’m sure.

  I swear I can taste honey and cinnamon, and though I can’t see a thing, colored streaks of light zip past my eyes like shooting stars.

  “I’m coming, babe,” I groan.

  Immediately, her pussy clamps down on me like a vice, and I go off like a rocket. Her orgasm rocks through her. My dick is too sensitive to take it more than a couple of times. Each time she squeezes, I jump like she’s shoving a hot poker up my ass. With the third time, I jerk out of her.

  “Oh,” she says, like a little kid that’s dropped her ice cream cone. And she bursts into tears.

  “Wait, what? I thought… I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought you came with me. I’ll fix it.”

  I reach between us to find her clit, and she swats my hand away. I roll off her, flop my forearm onto my forehead. I don’t get it.

  “I did,” she sobs. “It was so beautiful.”

  “Why are you crying?”

  “I don’t know,” she sobs.

  I roll back to her and gather her in my arms.

  “It’s the release of tension,” I say, like I know what the fuck I’m talking about.

  Her arms come around me and she buries her face in the corner between my arm and chest. Next thing I know, I’m waking up. She’s still curled in my arms, but the pup is licking my face.

  “Hey, boy. Go lay down,” I order.

  He whines. Lila’s head comes off my arm, which has gone numb. Those unbearable tingles of life returning to a sleeping limb start. I groan and rub the arm, lightly punching her in the shoulder.

  “Ow. I’m still here you know.”

  “Sorry. Hey, I think it’s over.”

  “The fire? Or us?” she asks.

  Us? There is no us… Unless she’s fallen for me. Shit. That happens sometimes. I’ll just have to let her down gently. Just one problem with that, I think, remembering the blow job. She may be the best I’ve ever had. Okay, so sex is important to me. Shoot me.

  She’s still in love with her dead fiancé, I tell myself. No use getting mixed up in that. But I hedge my bets. Don’t ask me why, I just get this feeling I really do still want to get to know her.

  “The fire.”

  She sighs. Is it relief? Suddenly the darkness gets to me. I need to see her face and untangle what’s happening here. I stand and fumble for the matches, drop the box, and feel for it on the ground. There it is. I take a match and stand to light the lantern, bumping my head on it on the way up. I’m batting a thousand.

  In the soft light, she’s more beautiful than I’d realized. Her red-gold hair is tousled from our short nap, her cheeks and breasts pink from my handling. I’m irresistibly drawn to kiss her nipples. She pulls my head up for a soul-searing kiss on the lips.

&nbs
p; “Is it next time yet?” she purrs.

  Holy crap, the woman’s insatiable. That’s my kind of woman. I wish it were next time, but I think my buddies will be here soon.

  “Let’s look outside and wait for my crew. But soon, I promise.”

  She smiles lazily at me and stretches, her arms behind her lower back and her breasts jutting forward. She’s killing me.

  “Get dressed, woman, before I eat you for lunch,” I growl.

  She laughs, a fantastic, belly-rolling laugh. I can’t help but smile happily at her.

  We pull on our clothes, and she picks up the beagle, while I climb the ladder and start to open the hatch. I flinch when my blistered hand touches the still-warm metal. Why didn’t I feel the pain when I had this hand all over her luscious tit?

  I push the door open, and cautiously stick my head out. A soft rain is falling. Too soft to hear against the metal of the door, I guess. To my shock, I can see the cabin, still standing. I climb all the way out and stand, open-mouthed. I can’t understand how it survived the blast we heard raging overhead.

  “Is it completely gone?”

  Her worried voice floats up to me.

  “You’re not going to believe it,” I answer.

  Then I turn, and my heart sinks. What may have been more valuable to her, the studio, her garage, and car, are just smoldering heaps of ash. Her paintings are gone. She’s going to be devastated.

  11

  Lila

  I climb the steps with Mr. Pete trying to wriggle out from under the arm where I’ve tucked him.

  “Be still, Pete,” I say, just as my head clears the opening.

  There’s still some lingering smoke in the air, but the thickest part has blown away. A few yards away stands my cabin, apparently unharmed.

  “I don’t believe it,” I breathe.

  “Lila,” Shawn says, looking behind me. “It’s not all good.”

  “What?” I turn to see what he’s looking at, and bile rises into my throat. “Oh.”

  My studio is gone. It’s just a pile of ashy rubble, along with the garage. My Mini is parked in front of the heap of ash, and it’s burned out. Nothing but black metal—no windows, no tires. I’m certain the painting that was inside is gone, too, along with all those I left in the studio.

  Oh, Jon, I’m so sorry.

  Shawn’s hands fall on my shoulders.

  “Hey, you can paint more. At least your home is intact. I can’t believe it.”

  I know why. It’s because Jon insisted on making that clearing. It’s like he saved me from beyond the grave. I guess maybe there was a little luck involved, too, the way the wind was blowing, or something. Because the studio had a clearing around it, too. I wonder if it’s the Universe telling me to move on.

  And I can’t forget the man who stuck around and insisted on saving me despite my stubborn dramatics that now make me blush to think of.

  Shawn squeezes my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get in and check out the cabin. And do you have any food? I’m starving.”

  I turn and smile at him, allowing him to take my hand to lead me as he likes to. I will not cry and am determined to put an upbeat take on this.

  “I think I might although I’m not sure that I’m up to cooking. I’ve had more than enough heat for today. Maybe you could make do with one of my sandwiches that you seem to enjoy.”

  “I need to check on the truck,” he says. “I can’t believe it survived, too.”

  I didn’t even look toward it, but I guess he did.

  “Okay. I’ll rustle up something to eat. It won’t take long.”

  He leans over and kisses my cheek, squeezes my hand, and leaves me right at the front door. Watching his retreat, I take the few seconds to admire his fine ass, then turn to my task when the door closes.

  In the few minutes he’s gone, I move to start spreading peanut butter and jelly on the bread I left out an hour or so ago. It feels like a lifetime. But as I move into the cabin, the odor of charred wood is foul. I walk to my bedroom door and step straight into a firepit. The photos of Jon that had adorned every surface are all shriveled and gone. The bed we’d had plans for is gone.

  I look around in dismay. The wooden structure at the back of the house is burnt to the ground. I’m now all but homeless but all I can think about are Shawn’s hands on my body, his cock inside me, and in my mouth. I want those things again, and I’m going to be unsatisfied with my life until it can happen. I even resent that his crew will likely be here any minute.

  Shawn comes in again, a wide grin on his face. That falls off when I turn and he sees my stricken look. And then observes the scene of destruction behind me.

  “Fuck, sorry babe.”

  He puts an arm around me but I know he’s seen this all way too often to understand what it means to have the home you felt secure in disappear.

  “There is some good news. Everything on the truck survived, thank God,” he says.

  Oh great.

  “And guess what?”

  “What?” I moan, trying hard not to feel sorry myself and doing an iffy job on that.

  He reaches out to the porch and brings in two paintings. The ones least likely to have survived - left out in the open propped up against the side of the truck on the ground.

  “Oh,” I say again. That seems to be my word of choice at the moment, everything is kind of overwhelming.

  He comes to me, takes me in his arms, and kisses me, probing deeply with his tongue, until I’m dizzy with desire. I must be making up for lost time, because I’ve never been this hungry for anyone before, not even Jon.

  “I talked to my chief on the radio,” Shawn says. “They know we’re safe. The fire is fifty percent contained and my crew’s getting a twenty-four-hour break. They aren’t coming for a while yet. You know what that means?”

  I begin to smile, thinking I may know. But I shake my head with a cheeky smile. “No. What does it mean?”

  “It means it’s next time right now.”

  He sweeps me off my feet, into his arms, and carries me toward the armchair.

  “We have no bed,” I squeal.

  “Does it seem to you like I need a bed after last night?” he growls, lust filling his voice.

  This is our chance to make that truck fantasy come true although I doubt it could measure up to our bunker in the dark experience which was close to mind-blowing, for me anyways.

  “What are you waiting for?” I whisper, threading my fingers into his hair.

  Shawn puts me down, takes less than five seconds to tear his clothes off and sprawls across the chair. He props himself against the back, puts one hand behind his head while the other dangles over an arm and then spreads his legs. He’s offering me a delectable view of his impressive cock, standing solid and straight not even swaying in the breeze.

  My eyes must be saucers and he throws me a satisfied grin as I lick my lips, getting them plump and moist.

  “Strip,” he commands.

  I peel off my tank top. “Now what?” I say, following the script even though I’ve got plenty of ideas of my own about what I want to do next.

  “Take it all off.” he gruffs.

  I slowly unzip my jeans, watching Shawn’s eyes hood into a lusty gaze. He hasn’t actually seen me properly naked and he’s planning to relish every inch, I can tell. I do as he says and push them off my hips, down my thighs and step out of them.

  “What’s next, stud? You’re showing me your skill. So far, I’m doing all the work.”

  “Come over here, straddle me, but don’t touch my dick. Not yet. Give me those luscious tits.”

  I do as he commands, and once again his lips and tongue bathe my nipples with delight. He moves his hand between my legs, slips a finger into my wet folds, and teases my clit. I back away.

  “Huh uh, Hotshot. You promised.”

  “If you insist,” he says. His low voice is hoarse with need.

  I back away on my hands and knees, then slide down his rock hard thighs
until I’m kneeling between his legs. His cock is beautiful. Solid and straight, throbbing with virile life. I take a moment to admire it, touch it with feathery-soft strokes of my fingers. I glance up to make sure he’s watching.

  His eyes are rolling up, his mouth slack. I lick my lips, and his cock twitches in response. Then I lower my head and give him every lascivious trick I know. Licking from the underside of his balls up to the tip. Swirling my tongue around and then seizing him in my lips and plunging my head down, down, down the length of him. I make sure I’m sucking hard as I sweep my lips and tongue back up.

  I hum, low in my throat, and taste the first salty spurt. It goes on until I choke, and I pull him out of my mouth, letting the rest spill on my breasts.

  “My God, woman,” he says at last. He pulls me up to his chest and curls me into his lap. “I could do that all day.”

  His thumbs rub his essence into my breasts, and I need him again.

  “Me, too,” I confess.

  “I hate that you live all the way up here. Any chance you’d move to town?”

  “Any reason I should?” I counter.

  “What’s left for you here?” he asks.

  I think of the pictures of Jon and me on the dresser, think about my studio, also destroyed and know I have other things to paint now.

  “Nothing.”

  “We still need to get to know each other. It will be easier, if you’re in town.”

  “Where would I live?” I don’t expect an answer. Don’t even realize I’ve said it out loud.

  He gives me that cocky grin once more. I’m sure he knows how irresistible he is when he throws that into the mix. But before we discuss it further he flips me over onto my knees so I’m bent across the chair and leaps up to stand behind me.

  He palms my ass cheeks and presses them apart. I’m already squirming with desire and I have no idea how he manages to maintain a solid erection again already. But when he slides all the way inside, filling every last millimeter of my pussy, I’m lifting off into the clouds. I tilt my pelvis back and grind down onto him demanding more.