FILF_Fireman I'd like to...

by Savannah May

  I have to smile at that. She is a little bit like a fallen angel. One that’s got a large chunk of devil temptress in her although I don't think she’s aware of it. Everything about Grace is natural and unpretentious. No fake airs and graces. I also like that she’s come clean to me about her situation now. She’s not hiding anything from me and we don’t have to pretend it isn’t hanging over her.

  “You think it’s funny being me?” she snaps.

  Her hand in mine is resting on my thigh and it’s driving me half insane. Her fingers are like little digits of superpower, searing their brand across my skin. I look down at her, holding her eyes in mine for an age. The moment balloons and lasts forever or a minute, I’m no longer sure. As I gaze at her and her pupils dilate, I can almost see her resistance coming down brick by brick. I know she wants me as much as I do her but she’s adamant that it won’t happen for some reason.

  Then her lip starts to tremble. Almost imperceptible. so you’d have to be this close to pick up on it. Close enough to feel her ragged breathes falling across your rough chin. My head automatically tips forward slightly, the desire to suck her quivering flesh overtaking all rationale.

  As though the world has disappeared into a miasma and only we two are left solid, our faces creep closer together. In tiny increments, as though our lips are floating on mist but irresistibly pulled, we reach for each other. When our lips touch, my hands cover her slinky body. One wraps behind her back, pulling her into me, the other slides up her rib cage to cup her sensual breast.

  In an instant Grace turns ravenous, grabbing at my biceps, clawing me into her, then pushing me away again. The shoving off has absolutely zero effect on me. Her efforts gain as much result as trying to push a tree back. And she can’t stick firm to her resolve, thankfully. It’s as though her body takes over, then her mind, then her passion finally wins out as she digs her fingers into my muscle and opens her mouth a little wider. Our tongues wrap around and around, lapping at each other, trying to tie the knots that will bind us closer.

  The heel of my palm shelves the underside of her perky breast as my fingertips curl around the edge of her dress and drag it back. I feel the expensive lace bra and know she’s been doing enough shopping to keep me content. Janice told her to buy some work-suitable clothes. The sexy new lingerie can only be for me. The muscles I’m holding her firm beneath suffuse with warmth knowing she’s done this to please me.

  Score one for getting Grace where I want her despite her protests. Which now seem to be very distant as I pinch her eager nipple through the fabric. She moans lightly in my mouth and I feel all her delectable pent up passion reverberate through me.

  Her mouth tugs at mine. Her fingers dagger relentlessly through my hair as though she’d like to tear it out at the roots. She’s a little fireball and so malleable. Her flesh so soft but springy with youth. I tear the bra strap down her shoulder and free her breast, mounding it under my palm until the need becomes too much. In one move, I cup the underside and push her back along the length of the seat as I suck the hard little pellet between my lips making her gasp sharply.

  She lies back, parting her legs for me. The wraparound dress is a dream outfit for the office. With only one skinny tie at the waist holding it in place, the dress falls apart with one tug. A second pulls the gorgeous lace and satin new panties to one side. Every fucking cell in my body sighs as I slide my fingers into her dripping folds. I almost melt from the burning heat as my fingers are covered with her juices. Desperate for a taste of her, I lift my hand to my lips and suck her off them.

  Grace gazes at me wide-eyed. I can’t believe she’s shocked by something so casual. In a sudden frenzy of need to feel the length of her pussy wrapped around me, I reach for my belt. Grace suddenly comes to her senses, a shock rattling through her divine body. The thought that we’re about to be so deeply connected.

  She pulls away, scooting along the seat and drawing her knees into her chest. She stares at me, shaking her head no over and over.

  My balls almost shrivel up with the loss of her.

  “Babe, what is it?”

  “No, no, we can’t do this,” she repeats, so that the boil inside me flows up the edges. I have to calm.

  “What happened? I know you want this as much as I do.”

  “No, no I don’t,” she insists then instantly realizes she’s mistaking how she feels. “Or I do but I can’t. I won’t. You have no idea who I really am.”

  “I think you make too much of your past.” “So you know about that,” she murmurs.

  “Of course. I know about everyone that passes through my doors, employee or client. Knowledge is power.” “No, intimidation, threats and punishment are power.” “Have I done any of that?”

  “Not you but that’s what I’ve been through recently and now I just want to keep my act clean while I get it together. Sleeping with my boss is already getting me fired by your assistant and filthy looks from my co-workers.”

  “And you haven’t even slept with me. Yet.” I add, with a grin I hope will unwind the tension.

  My balls are still blue but the desperate hunger has receded slightly. For some reason it’s important to me that this is good for Grace as well as me.

  “There’s no yet involved here,” she insists.

  “Sir?” Henry’s voice interrupts us, shattering our living fantasy totally. I see we’ve arrived at my brownstone but I doubt Grace is ready to come on in.

  “Drive around some more,” I order.

  He pulls the car forward without another word.

  “Are you going to keep me here in your car just circling the block?” Grace snips.

  “If that’s the only way I get to spend time with you alone, then yes.”

  “It’s not going to change my mind.”

  “Babe, it’s clear that there’s something between us more than boss and intern. Why can’t we enjoy that for the summer?”

  “If it’s too much for you to keep our arrangement on business terms then we can call it off.”

  I doubt she wants to give up all that money, or the chance to go out on the town with a playboy billionaire. Something’s scaring her and I intend to find out what it is.

  “Okay, don’t get all worked up over this, Doll. I’ll take you home.” “No,” she squeals. Like that idea is worse than coming into my house.

  “Well which it is your place or mine?” I grin.

  “Neither. Just drop me at the subway. I’ll be fine.” “No way, Babe. I’m taking you home.”

  Chapter 15

  Grace

  No matter what I say to Hopper to persuade him to let me out of the car has the slightest effect. Like always he does what he wants.

  “This bus goes right by my door,” I lie, as we’re sitting in Fifth Avenue traffic, battling through midtown rush hour and tourists. Although the bigger battle is going on inside the car, on this back seat between Hopper and me.

  “Grace, I’ve already told you, if you won’t come to my place then I’m seeing you get home safe with all my new purchases.”

  He grins, a wicked smile even though I can tell he’s frustrated at my change of heart. I must seem so immature. Like a scared little girl, pushing back from the big bad boss. I’ve managed to work my way back toward the center, from being squashed up against the door as far away as possible from him. Gradually, as I relaxed again and without even realizing it, I’ve edged back to the warm glow of his presence. His physicality is like a black hole pulling me in. Which is why I have to be on super alert not to fall into the bottomless pit of Hopper Grady’s allure. Because there’s no exit on the other side to that other than being kicked back to where I came from. That may be okay for most girls having a fling with gorgeous Mr Grady but in my case it’s the end of the road.

  I don’t think I could survive going back there ever again. Oh, I would survive in the physical sense. I’ve learned the strength to put one foot forward after another every single day, until I emerge from whatever crap I’v
e dropped into. But psychologically, I feel damaged, like I can never be good enough. That anyone who finds out about my time locked up like an animal, will immediately start to treat me like one.

  My body is now so close to Hopper, I can feel the heat emanating from him again. Every muscle bristles with power, creating a forcefield all around his solid form. I know because I had my hands on every single part of him and every last tendon was granite, including the rather spectacular cock I caught a brief glimpse of, standing straight before he quickly shoved it away again. The tip throbbing, all for me. Oh my god, I saw my Boss’s cock. Came close to wrapping it in my hands. It’s ll I want but was all too much, all at once.

  Now I want so much to be inside that atmosphere of his, enveloped and safe. Not shut out on the other side of the wire. I had the chance but I know it’s not right. Hopper Grady would be the end of me if I let myself go crashing into his orbit.

  I’m close to him now. Close enough that the side of my thigh lines his again. We’re both aware of it, like before and the energy starts to crackle in the enclosed space. My fingertips itch to curl around his solid thigh. Even just to rest on top would be so comforting. But I don’t want to act like a tease and I know I couldn’t finish whatever I might start as much as I yearn for it.

  Hopper looks out of the window, his fists clenched, his entire body taut. I can’t tell whether he’s annoyed. I owe him an explanation but I don’t want to go into all the details. It not only stresses me with renewed shame but I’m afraid he’ll drop me like a burning coal. Maybe I’m nothing but an exercise in social defiance for him. I need the money he offered me for the play dates. But more than that, I’m beginning to feel that I want Hopper for real.

  Oh god, I know what he must be thinking. As we turn down the street my halfway house is located on, a new surge of shame floods up my legs.

  “Not exactly the Hamptons,” I mutter. “I guess you don’t hang out much in neighborhoods like this.”

  “You’d be surprised,” he says, his voice cracking.

  Henry pulls up at the house and I want to sink into the ground as he climbs out to open my door. Even the chauffeur must think I’m trash. Hopper follows me out of the car and I can’t look at him. My eyes are glued to the cracked sidewalk as Henry impassively retrieves my packages from the rear.

  Hopper takes my chin gently between his finger and thumb to tip my face up to his. His eyes search mine, scouring across the deepest part of my soul. Everything I want to keep hidden he seems to extract like a radar dish.

  “There is nothing wrong with you, Grace,” he husks out, keeping his voice low so Henry isn’t privy to my secrets. “Quite the opposite. I’m not only very attracted to you I find you one of the most interesting women I’ve ever met.”

  A rush of warmth travels through me. Just knowing I can attract a man like Hopper makes me feel a whole lot better, even if it is half a line to get what he wants. He takes the bags from Henry and then walks me to the front door. Oh god, make him go away before I have to unlock and he sees the burn holes in the carpet, the scratched and sagging furniture. Those smart packages look completely out of place all of a sudden.

  “Lost the key?” he grins, as we stand at the entrance, half numbed out. At least I am. I fumble in my purse but before I locate the keys, the door is yanked back and I want to groan out loud. The Polish is standing there with a manic smirk. Her eyes take in the chauffeured car and the gorgeous hunk holding all my shopping bags and I see more calculations than an 80’s computer running through her head.

  “Come in, Sir,” she screeches, then to me, “Gracie Girl, you know we aren’t allowed to bring our johns home.”

  “This is my boss,” I snarl. Fucking great. Last thing I want is Hopper thinking I turn tricks on the side.

  “Sure he is,” the toothless wonder says. “I won’t tell. For a cut, of course.”

  “I must be getting back to the city,” Hopper suddenly announces, taking charge and dominating the situation. He removes his hand from where it’s been resting hotly on the small of my back. It was making me feel so comforted against the other woman’s onslaught that I almost grab out to replace it.

  “Aw, don’t go yet,” Polish whines.

  She reaches up with her bitten down, cracked polish fingers to stroke across Hopper’s lapel. Her attempt to be seductive is embarrassing and makes me even more sure I’ll never see him again.

  “I apologize but I have an appointment” he says excessively politely. Like he knows what she can turn into, how she can flip when she doesn’t get her way. “I really am Gracie’s boss, just dropping off all her parcels.”

  “Well Boss, if Grace doesn’t tempt you, come in and let Yanka show you some love.” The Pole smirks like she doesn't believe a word of it as Hopper hands them over. She does seem certain that her charms are much more appealing than mine.

  “Have a nice evening, Ladies,” he says, then without a glance at me he takes off like a ball from a cannon.

  Shit, it’s just as I dreaded. He’s seen where I live, the people I run with and he can’t get out of here fast enough. I bet he’s in the back seat already on his phone, making a few calls to find a real date for the wedding tomorrow. Henry closes the door on Hopper, staring straight ahead as Yanka and I stand in the doorway gazing longingly at him. The perfect prince, the perfect dream man. If only he could ever be mine. Just say goodnight to that dream, Gracie.

  “Get lost,” I hiss at Yanka, who’s making all kinds of filthy noises with her lips and tombstone teeth.

  I should close the door, but I stand mesmerized as Henry walks around to the driver’s side. Then the rear tinted window lowers.

  “I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow, Gracie,” Hopper grits out, again using that cutesy form of my name that he picked up from Yanka. “Make sure you’re ready. The traffic could be snarled out to the Island.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I call, my voice cracking with frustration, both emotional and physical.

  The window glides back up and I watch the car pull away.

  As soon as he’s gone, Yanka pops up behind me, trying to tear the shopping bags from my hands.

  “Lemme see what you haz in dere,” she squawks.

  “Get the fuck off me,” I shout, as the tug of war rips the lovely black bag from the swanky boutique in pieces and my tissue-wrapped lacy lingerie tumbles to the grimy carpet. I snatch it up before the clawing zombie makes a grab at it and dash up the stairs.

  I spend my Friday night locked in my room against the barrage of questions and filthy remarks from Yanka, pawing at the other side of my door.

  How the hell am I ever going to make myself presentable for a society wedding when I have her to deal with?

  Chapter 16

  Hopper

  I’m completely torn as my car pulls away from Grace’s house. Just what is it about this girl exactly that has me all tied in knots. I’m used to being in control, of myself and everyone around me. I casually date gorgeous women, maneuvering them through the standard moves of drinks and dinner before bed (not that it’s often bed, more like floor, counter, wall). It’s all fine, the regular thing, never any fireworks going off.

  No one has ever been particularly stimulating, especially after I’ve peeled off the layers of clothing and bared the body that first attracted me. It’s like a bunch of perfectly wrapped gifts under the tree. All too often there’s nothing exciting beneath that top layer of wrap.

  Women assume that I’m a playboy just wanting another notch in my belt. That once the thrill of the chase is over, so is my interest. From where I sit the real issue is that they don’t offer much beyond their bodies to maintain my attention.

  I lean my head back on the seat trying to wrap my head around it all. It’s like unknotting the cables of all my devices. Every time I get somewhere, the tangle just gets tighter.

  Then I pull out my phone.

  By the time I’m done with the call, we’re back in the city, right in front of my brownstone. I cl
imb wearily agitated out of the car to stamp up to the stoop and inside. The huge fucking place seems like a cavern. Empty, hollow, an echoing chamber.

  I stride down the long open plan hallway, my shoes noisy on the floorboards. The echoing sound makes the house seem even emptier. Unlived in, unloved. The kitchen is like some deserted space station where the monster alien’s about to jump out. My previous ideas about having dinner with Gracie here at the island counter are now blown to smither-fucking-eens.

  I can still envision her sitting there on a high stool, wearing only my shirt, bare legs dangling. The one fixed button is mismatched and her hair’s all tousled from the way I took her roughly on top of the counter. She smiles naughtily at me as she runs her finger around the sauce left on a plate from the pasta I just cooked her. She puckers her lips as she sucks the tip, her eyes diving into mine. Wanting more.

  Christ, I’m wallowing in those impossible fantasies again. I need to get the itch clawed, never mind scratched.

  I pull out my phone again, dial the number for the service I use when I can’t be bothered with the dating game but need something a little less raw than the masseuse. Models new in town that want to increase their exposure and finance their expenses. Without Grace, I don’t want to talk or dine, I just want to fuck. I want a woman wrapped around me, grinding back down on my thrusts. I want her legs hooked around my pelvis, tugging me deeper into her tight pussy.

  “Bloomingtons,” the silky, but business-like voice picks up the phone and recognizes my number. “Good evening, Mr Grady.”

  I swipe the screen and disconnect.

  Shit, I don’t want any other woman here. Or anywhere near me. The only one I want is Grace and she’s put up her boundary. Not that I don’t see it wobbling on very shaky ground but she’s still adamantly holding it erect.

  I sleep badly and even the quick jerk off doesn’t quell my desire in the slightest. My mind is full of images of Grace, her thighs all creamy tender, her eyes gazing at me with lust. I shoot my load but end up feeling more frustrated that I can’t have the real thing.