Feral

by Teagan Kade

  “I love you, Poppy,” Addison says, her eyes bright. She’s been coming out with these random blurts of affection a lot recently, much to our collective delight.

  Jerry reaches over and tugs at her cheek. “You play your Poppy like a fiddle, don’t you, little one?”

  She nods in response, all of us laughing together.

  The meatloaf is delicious. Jeanie’s a wonderful cook, but she’s usually too busy at the shop or looking after Addy to do much else.

  The newly expanded Crank & Wrench couldn’t be doing better. We’ve taken on an additional four staff and bought the boiler-making warehouse next door given the influx of work. A car magazine out of California picked up on the GTO’s story, came out to take photos and do a spread. They even interviewed Jerry. After that, things exploded. We became the go-to for custom restoration work in the state. I even had Colton down here at one stage to pitch in… before he drifted back to the bright lights of the Big City.

  The Becketts have expanded fast in recent years. I joke it’s our super-seed, which always gets Jeanie’s eyes rolling good. She’s soon silenced when I tug down her jeans and go to work.

  Yes, Addison wasn’t exactly planned, but it’s not like we were being careful either. These days I couldn’t imagine a world without her. She’s the absolute love of my life. I look between her and her mother, and couldn’t possibly wish for more. I could well be the luckiest guy in the world.

  Pregnancy suited her well. The sex alone was worth it, not that we slowed in the bedroom post-baby. I think most customers would be horrified to learn how many areas of the shop we’ve ‘christened.’ The tool bench in particular’s been busy of late.

  Jerry wipes his mouth with a napkin. “How’s that ’69 coming along, Mason?”

  I swallow down the food in my mouth before answering. “The Impala? Great. I should have the gearbox back in this week.”

  He nods. “You’re doing fine work, son. Sure you don’t miss being a lawyer?”

  I have to laugh at that, looking across to Jeanie. The way the light’s catching her hair is going to have me putting a hole in the table if I don’t watch out. “Not at all, Jerry. Not at all.”

  And it’s true. I never imagined the small-town life would suit me this well. I’ve even taken to tending to the farm animals, not that I think I’ll ever get used to milking the cow. It’s just… weird.

  “Well,” Jerry continues, winking at Addy, “we’re glad you decided to stay.”

  “Thanks, Jerry. I appreciate that.”

  What was to be a short trip to the Grand Canyon turned into a two-week cross-country epic. We saw all the sights, Jerry proudly proclaiming how he’d done this or that before everything became “darn tourist traps.” At night Jeanie and I would dart off to make love wherever we could. I felt sixteen all over again.

  We wed one month after we got back, Jerry gifting Jeanie Lola’s engagement ring. She broke down, of course, during that moment and the many that followed leading up to the day.

  It was a small, unpretentious ceremony just the way Jeanie wanted, but all my brothers and their entourages showed up. Chaos—that’s the best word I have for it, the best kind. We set up tables out back behind the farmhouse and had Maggie and the diner staff cater while fireflies lit up the night. It was a great night, and that went double for our sexual antics later.

  After dinner and a truly outrageous serving of blueberry pie, I drop home a dozy Jerry in the Equus. Jeanie’s closing Addy’s bedroom door softly when I arrive back at the farmhouse, a finger to her lips.

  I collect her around the waist and carry her to our bedroom, tossing her onto the bed and climbing over her.

  Her dressing gown falls apart, her bare legs wrapping around my torso and drawing me down to her.

  I let my fingers glance over her hip. She basically bought out every jar of cocoa butter in town during the pregnancy, but a hint of stretch marks remain. I love them, still love every perfect inch of her.

  We lie there staring at each other. I’m lost, like always, in her eyes.

  “Back to work tomorrow,” she says.

  I squeeze her thigh, my cock iron hard. “Tomorrow,” I repeat. “There’s still plenty of time before sun up.”

  “And your daughter?”

  “Is going to sleep through the night blissfully unware of the dirty things happening in the room next door.”

  A smile plays on Jeanie’s lips. “Dirty things, you say?”

  I grind up against her crotch, can feel the wet heat of her against my jeans. “Dirty, dirty things.”

  Jeanie rolls over onto her stomach below me, reaching down to lift up her dressing gown and reveal her peachy ass. “Well, I guess you better get to work, boss.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I smile, reaching down to undo my belt.

  We make love long into the night, two lovers still unable to get enough of each other.

  I didn’t know what I’d find when I moved to Silver Springs all those years ago, but I’m so happy it was Jeanie.

  I was a brute once, a man without morals or regard for the greater good.

  But Jeanie has given me new life.

  We’ve created a world together, hand in hand.

  You see, true love, the kind Jeanie and I share, doesn’t bind; it liberates.

  Blaze

  Teagan Kade

  * * * * *

  Published by Teagan Kade

  Edited by Sennah Tate

  Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Kade

  COPYRIGHT

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  DEDICATION

  For Kit. You’re still the king of my north.

  CHAPTER ONE

  LACEY

  Judging by the décor and general lack of warmth, I don’t know if this is an esteemed fire academy or a state penitentiary.

  A guy, quite naked, goes running past us down the hall.

  Make that a zoo.

  Captain Jennings shakes his head beside me. “First week and the Kool-Aid’s out already. A lot of these guys think this is some sort of frat-house freak show, but come tomorrow morning they’re going to find out it’s anything but.” He stops by a door. “Here we are.”

  I note the number on it is sixty-nine.

  Figures.

  The Captain slides a key into the lock and opens the door, ushering me through. The room is small, utilitarian, but given what I grew up in it may as well be the Taj Mahal.

  “So, what do you think?” asks the Captain, framed by the doorway.

  “It’s great. Thank you,” I smile back.

  The Captain leans against the doorway playing with a loose thread on the brim of his Pemberton Fire Academy Instructor cap. “I have to apologize again about the arrangements. We had a room on the other side of campus all prepped, but this year’s intake was bigger than expected.”

  I pull the curtains open and look out the window. “It’s fine, really.”

  “I know you’re stuck in Testosterone Land here,” continues the Captain, “but there’s a female bathroom down the hall that’s all yours—ten or more
showers you can take your pick of. Besides, any of these assholes give you trouble, you just come knocking on my door, okay?”

  “Yes, Captain,” I reply. “I grew up in a town where males outnumbered females three to one. I think I’ll be okay.”

  He flicks the brim of his cap. “That’s the spirit. Do you need a hand bringing your things down?”

  “No, sir.”

  He hands me the key. “Alright then, Miss Nelson. Welcome to the Hot House.”

  He nods and leaves.

  I close the door and take a seat on the bed, the excitement of others echoing down the hallway.

  I breathe in. I breathe out.

  You sure about this, Lacey?

  Now I’m here, I’m not so sure.

  I take out my cell, my finger hovering over the screen. It would only take one call.

  No. Not today.

  I slide the cell back into my pocket and stand, heading back out into the hallway, and bang smack into…

  Penis.

  Like, a lot of penis. I’m talking the Empire State of shlongs, the Pecker King. There’s no other way to describe it.

  Penis Dude stands there with his hands on his hips, looking down where I’ve just collided with his appendage-slash-trouser snake, and he’s grinning. His smug, chiselled, surprisingly perfect features are actually grinning at me.

  I literally leap back in shock.

  He continues to stand there in his birthday suit like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like I should get onto my knees and worship his Adonis-like perfection.

  I punch him in the chest instead.

  I have no idea why I do this. It’s simply a reflex.

  There’s only one problem: he’s got a brick wall for a body.

  It’s like I’ve tickled him with a feather, his smirk widening.

  He looks down at his eight-pack and lifts his head, honey-amber eyes aflame. “If you wanted to touch, all you had to do was ask.”

  My mouth actually drops. “Excuse me?”

  He takes hold of his dick and shakes it at me. “Don’t be scared. He doesn’t bite… much.”

  And he winks. This arrogant, mold-cast caricature of a man actually has the balls to wink as if it’s a kind of kinky punctuation mark.

  Oh, no. No, no, no you don’t.

  I step up to him, which is to say his pecs given I’m half his height. I poke him right in what appears to be an eyes-with-wings tattoo, though it could be Spongebob Squarepants for all I know, and do my best to avoid the swinging pendulum that is his super-penis. “Look…” I realize I don’t know his name.

  “Payton,” he grins, “but you can call me whatever the fuck you want.”

  “Look, Payton. I don’t know why you’re naked—”

  “I heard you’re the only female in the intake this year.” He glances down at his cock. “I thought you’d appreciate a personal introduction.”

  I ignore him. “I don’t know what kind of Sigma Alpha asshole-fest you’re fresh from, but none of this is going to fly with me, comprendo?”

  He lets go of his dick to throw his arms wide. “Or what? Hate to tell you this, but you’re no million-dollar baby. That jab was foreplay where I’m from.”

  I’ve met my share of entitled jocks before, but this guy is taking it to a whole new level.

  I take a step back before his thing takes my eye out. “I’m here to study, train… You know, like an adult.”

  He shrugs, his eyes dropping to take me in. “That’s a shame, because a body like that was built for adult activities.”

  I look down at his cock and immediately begin to blush, averting my eyes.

  Why must you betray me so, body?

  ‘Payton’ thrusts his hips out. “No, go on. Take a nice, long, hard look.”

  I step back into my room and prepare to slam the door. My stuff can wait. “Goodbye.”

  He places his hand on the door, holding it open. “Nice to meet you too, neighbor.”

  He lets go and I manage to close the door, standing with my back against it breathing hard, my little ham of a heart beating wildly, but why? Because of Mr. Universe out there?

  Never. Going. To. Happen, I tell myself. Never. Ever. Ever.

  I hear the door to the room next door and suddenly catch the meaning of his last word.

  Crap.

  It wasn’t a figure of speech.

  A double knock on the wall confirms it.

  “Feel free to pop over any time,” comes his muffled voice. “The first one’s free.”

  I look to the ceiling, but there’s no divine being there to save me.

  Lacey, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

  *

  The zoo becomes a jungle come night. Given the thump, thump beside my head, I’m pretty sure my delightful neighbor is mating some poor girl, but the question is who given I’m the only female joining the academy this year.

  You sure it’s a girl? my head questions.

  But there’s no doubt. The alpha-hetero vibes Payton were giving off were practically impregnating me standing still. And the way those golden eyes slid over my body, eye-sexing me like a pro. No, he knows what he’s doing, alright.

  Not to mention his… organ. I close my eyes and it’s all I see, like my own personal, glowing penis night light to lull me to sleep.

  But penis or not, I am here to learn. I’ve never been defeated by anything or anyone, and Pemberton Fire Academy is not going to be the first thing to beat me. I cannot be broken. It’s simply not in my nature. In sixteen weeks, I’m going to leave this place top of my class. I’m going to be a firefighter if it’s the last damn thing I do.

  I wake early and hit the cafeteria before the masses, heading back to my room to run through the course material one final time. As Dad used to say, ‘By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.’

  I’m first into the hall, standing patiently at ease while the rest of the class filters in—twenty guys of varying levels of physical fitness. I ignore their glances and whispered conversation. Let them joke. We’ll see who’s laughing in a week.

  A blown whistle snaps everyone to silence.

  A familiar face enters. Captain Jennings has to be close to seven feet tall and solid. He wears a black shirt and cargo pants, combat boots tied high around his ankles.

  He stands before us and scrutinizes a clipboard. “The following names, please step forward. Martinez, Anderson, King, Harris, and Cox.”

  Four guys step forward looking between one another.

  The far doors swing wide, Payton entering still pulling on his tee.

  “And who might you be, son?” queries the Captain.

  Payton comes huffing to a stop beside me. “Payton Cox, sir.”

  “You will refer to me as Captain, or the Stairmaster 5000. I don’t really give a shit which.”

  “Yes, Captain,” corrects Payton, standing right beside me with that perpetual smirk on his face.

  The man-giant checks his watch. “You’re eighty-six seconds late, Mr. Cox. Want to tell me why?”

  “I was brushing my hair, Captain. I wanted to look my best for you.”

  Sporadic laughter follows from the others.

  The Captain stands with his legs apart. “Step forward, smartass.”

  Clipboard behind his back, the Captain stalks the line of five guys, speaking in tight, punctuated syllables. “Welcome, Class 2B, to the Pemberton Fire Academy, AKA the Hot House. We are the Top Gun of US fire academies, which means you’re going through the wringer five ways to Sunday.” He takes a step forward. “We are a pa-ra-mi-li-ta-ry organization. We are not the Navy SEALS, but come week sixteen you’re going to wish you had signed up for frogman school, because being a firefighter is the greatest calling on earth. Be damn sure we’re not going to let just anyone into that hallowed company.”

  Payton turns and winks at me. It takes all the willpower I have not to flip him the bird.

  “Now,” continues the Captain, pacing before the guys w
ho have stepped forward, “I hear you bitches,” he spots me in the line, “no offence to our female recruit, had a bit of fun yesterday in what would appear to be a freshman ritual of some sort, partying and horsing around. Well, wake up call, boys. This is not college.” He stops before a spindly-looking redhead. “What’s your name, son?”

  “Jackson King, Captain Sir Master Chief Sir,” he barks back, saluting as he says it.

  The Captain nods calmly. He looks to the rest of us. “We’re still in the first five minutes and we’ve already established a class clown.” He looks back to Jackson. “You’re going to regret that, son. Get down and give me twenty.”

  Jackson looks confused. “Twenty?”

  “Push-ups!” yells the captain. “On your fucking hands NOW!”

  I’ve never seen anyone hit the ground so fast.

  “You other shitheads,” the Captain barks to the four remaining guys, “get down there and join him.” He points to Payton. “An extra ten for you for showing up late, and another ten on top of that for the wise crack.”

  Payton gets down and starts doing push-ups one-handed, smiling as he does it.

  The Captain doesn’t pay him any attention, speaking to the rest of us. “You want to fool around, you do it on your own time, but while you are here you are mine. Do. You. Understand?”

  “Yes, Captain,” we reply.

  “Hands behind your backs, feet apart.”

  We get into position.

  The boys finish their push-ups, Jackson struggling through it.

  “Back into line!” The Captain begins to pace again. “Firefighting is not a solo game. You are in this together. Should you make it through these next sixteen weeks, you will go on to join a new family, but you will never forget the family standing around you right here, right now. Take a good, long look at one another.”

  Payton looks down my cleavage. “Yes, sir,” he whispers.