Fire Born (Firehouse 343)

by Christina Moore

  Color rose in the other woman’s cheeks, but she kept her head held high as she said, “I don’t often leave my daughter alone, because of her condition. Her autism’s not too bad but she doesn’t do well with strangers, and when she gets attached to someone who ends up leaving, she’ll spend hours at a time hiding in her closet like she does when she’s scared. Makes hiring a sitter real difficult.”

  “Why does she hide in her closet?” Martie wondered aloud, curious as to the reason.

  Ronnie smiled, and glanced back at Jessica yet again before she turned back and replied, “Unlike most kids, Jessica’s not afraid of the dark. She embraces it, and believes that it protects her. If bad things can’t see her, they can’t hurt her.”

  Martie nodded. “That actually makes sense.”

  “The reason I was gone longer than I’d planned to be is that I’ve met someone,” Ronnie went on. “He works at the gas station. He’s real nice, at least he seems to be, and I just want to be sure he’s gonna be good for Jess. I’ve had a few boyfriends in the last ten years, and it breaks her little heart every time she gets used to a man being around only for him to up and leave again. I don’t want to put her through that anymore. So I’ve been lingering whenever I go to the Speedway to get a drink or what have you and he’s working, spending a little time getting to know him.”

  “That’s a very wise precaution, Ronnie,” Martie said. “You’ve got your little girl to think about. Best not to give your heart away without knowing if he’s gonna want to keep it.”

  Why then, she wondered as she walked away at last, was she doing the exact opposite of her own advice?

  ***

  Chris hoped as they returned from another call—someone who thought himself a master of the barbecue had used too much lighter fluid on his coals and set the entire grill on fire—that Martie hadn’t returned while they were gone. Not that she would be alone at the station if that were the case; Football, Terry and a volunteer had stayed behind because only the engine had been called for. But he’d hoped to be there when she got back, to greet her with a kiss.

  If she’d let him. So far, she’d been nothing but professional in front of the other men, showing him real affection only when they were alone. Was it because she didn’t want them to know? Why would their knowing the two of them were involved be a big deal?

  And why the hell was he trying to understand a woman’s motivation? he chided himself with a smile, reminding himself that what they had was new and neither one of them were sure of anything.

  Despite his wanting to be there when she returned, Chris’s heart nevertheless sped up when he saw Martie’s Sorento in the visitor’s lot at the side of the fire station. After Logan had backed the engine into the garage and he, Chris, and Rick climbed out of their seats and headed into the lounge. He looked around for her but she was nowhere in sight.

  Football jerked his thumb toward the back rooms. “Office,” he said simply, then returned to the thick ham sandwich he was eating. Vonda and their two children were with him—Curtis Jr. and Michael each had on a fireman’s helmet, one belonging to their father and the other belonging to either Terry or the volunteer, Tim Roberts, both of whom were sitting at the next table eating their own dinner.

  Chris waved and hurried into the locker room to deposit his gear, then headed for the office. He stopped short on finding a laptop that was probably hers open on one of the desks, the screensaver running.

  But no Martie.

  Next he headed for the bathroom, but noticing out of the corner of his eye that the door to the bunkroom was ajar, he pushed it open slowly, thankful for the well-oiled hinges that made doing so noiseless, as the sight that greeted him was her finely shaped ass clad only in a pair of white cotton panties, her pants around her calves as she did…something…to her left knee.

  “Love the view,” he quipped.

  “Fuck me!” Martie hollered in surprise, grabbing her slacks and yanking them up as she turned around.

  “I’d be more than happy to take you up on that, if it’s an offer,” he said, then frowned as he noted some dark coloring on the skin of her thigh, before she covered it with her clothes. Martie noticed him watching as she hurried to close her fly, but he was already in front of her and stopping her.

  “Let me see,” he said softly.

  “You just want me to take my pants off again,” she returned, doing nothing.

  Chris grinned. “Oh, there’s no denying that, wótheȟila. But that’s not why I want you to take them off now. Let me see.”

  With an exaggerated sigh, she dropped her hands and allowed him to pull her pants back down around her knees, crouching down to get a better look at the injuries. He frowned at the ugly bruises marring both legs, especially the one that had blossomed over her left kneecap and now smelled strongly of Ben Gay.

  He touched it tentatively and looked up at her. “This hurts?”

  Martie raised an eyebrow. “What gave you the first clue—the bruise or the medicinal smell?”

  “You sure are snarky when you’re embarrassed,” he replied with a grin.

  She crossed her arms, her brow furrowing as she looked down at him. “Wouldn’t you be? And what the hell does wótheȟila mean?”

  Chris was pleased she’d copied his pronunciation so exactly. Then again she spoke Italian, so she was used to enunciating in more than one language. Gently he placed his hand over her knee, allowing the warmth of his palm to radiate to the joint underneath. “Wótheȟila is a Lakota word. It is often used to refer to the object of one’s affection.”

  “You mean like ‘sweetheart’?”

  He nodded, and then braving the possibility he would get the taste of the muscle rub on his lips, he leaned forward and kissed her knee. He could feel her shudder ever so slightly at the touch of his lips to her skin. Pleased again—and unable to resist the urge—he kissed again, this time gently laying his lips to the inside of her knee.

  Martie drew a sharp breath. “Chris…”

  “Yes?” he prompted, nuzzling further up her leg.

  She whimpered. “We, um… We can’t do this here. There are…there are children out there.”

  “This room is fairly soundproofed,” he told her, shifting from a squat to resting his weight on his knees. This allowed him to comfortably rise even higher, his face now even with her most intimate area. Despite her protests, he could smell her arousal there, and dipped his nose into the cotton, breathing deep.

  “You smell so good,” Chris said, his voice husky with want. “I know I said I’d wait until you were ready, but I’m not sure I can stop now. Not unless you tell me to.”

  He looked up at her then, taking note of the fact that her breathing was already shallow, her face already flushed, and her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. “Do you want me to stop, Martie?”

  Chris knew she didn’t, he could see it in her face. But if she told him no, then as much as it would kill him, he’d stand up and back away. Of course, doing that meant he’d have to lock himself in the bathroom to take care of the already painful ache in his balls, because by God he wanted her.

  His thoughts must have somehow showed in his expression, because Martie shook her head slowly. “God help me, but I don’t want you to stop,” she said.

  He smiled. “I was hoping you’d give me a reason to have locked the door behind me.”

  She raised her eyebrow again. “You locked the door?”

  “Wótheȟila, I told you I’d lock those yahoos out,” he replied. Then Chris raised his hands to cup her bottom, giving her ass a squeeze. He dipped his nose into the apex of her thighs again, finding and stroking his nose against her clitoris. Martie whimpered again and one of her hands fisted in his hair.

  He reached for the waistband of her panties and drew them down, staring for a moment at the short, dark bush of curls in front of his face. He hadn’t taken the time to notice before, but she was well-groomed; something he’s always liked about a woman was how well she took care of he
rself in a place most never got to see. Once more he leaned into her, this time flicking his tongue across that sensitive bud to taste her.

  Martie cried out softly, her grip on his hair tightening. “Stand a little wider for me, baby,” he breathed against her, and she readily complied, widening her stance. Chris stretched his tongue further and licked her folds. He swiped his tongue back and forth across the slick, salty-sweet skin, her moans of pleasure causing his cock to strain even harder against his fly.

  He kept at it, licking her, teasing her clit, drawing it into his mouth. He could tell she was trying to stay quiet despite his assurances that they wouldn’t be heard, her moaning alternating between highs cries and low ones. This amused him, and unable to resist, he added a second torture to his fun, bringing his right hand into the play by slipping a finger into her.

  Martie cried out at the same time as she pushed herself into his face. A second finger joined the first, and he pushed them in and out of her as he kept working his tongue against her. She pushed into his face again as if to take him deeper; now both hands were in his hair. She pulled at it tighter with every stroke of his tongue, every dip of his fingers into her hot sheath.

  “Chris!” she cried out, her juices suddenly wetting the lower half of his face.

  Chris continued his oral assault, allowing her to ride the waves of her pleasure until he could no longer contain himself. He stood swiftly and grabbed her head, kissing her fiercely, deeply. Martie didn’t even hesitate to take her own essence into her mouth on his tongue, and that set him to burning even hotter. He needed her on his cock now.

  Bending at the knee, he placed an arm behind hers and lifted her without breaking the kiss, carrying her over to one of the six twin-sized cots and laying her down. He yanked off the ankle boots on her feet and dropped them to the floor, followed by her slacks and her panties. He then undid his buckle and drew his zipper down, pushing his pants past his hips and stepping forward, ready to take her hard.

  Martie surprised him by sitting up and taking his shaft in her mouth in one swift motion. Chris groaned, and returned the favor she’d shown him earlier by fisting his hands in her hair. Her tongue was wicked wet velvet against his hardened length, her mouth hot and moist and working pure magic as she licked and sucked up and down. She teased the head of him with her tongue, licking up the pre-come that seeped from the tip, then bobbed down again and took his entire length into her mouth. He groaned again, louder—so few of the women he’d slept with were willing to deep throat him due to his size, but Martie was showing no such hesitation.

  He almost came undone in her mouth, feeling the back of her throat against the sensitive head of his member, and though he imagined one day doing so, he didn’t want to tonight. Chris pushed Martie back on the cot and pushed his pants down further. She opened for him, welcoming him into her moist heat. He crushed her lips beneath his and pushed into her deeply, and she cried out into his mouth as she wrapped her legs around him. Knowing they couldn’t be too long out of sight of the others, his pace was fast, his thrusts hard. His sac slapping against her bottom spurred him on, and he kept up the frenzied pace.

  “Oh, God! Yes, yes! More!” Martie cried hoarsely.

  He responded by giving her what she wanted, thrusting faster and deeper. She felt so hot, so tight around him, so slick and… He couldn’t hold it in anymore, and groaning into the mattress, he emptied into her. Martie started to cry out her own release and then silenced herself by biting and groaning into his shoulder, her hips bucking against him as she climaxed a second time.

  Slowly, steadily, they came down from their high, and Chris looked into her eyes as he struggled to steady his breathing. “You bit me.”

  Martie chuckled as she rubbed the spot her teeth had claimed. “Sorry. I know you said there was soundproofing, but I didn’t want to chance being heard.”

  “Does this mean I belong to you, now that you’ve marked me?” he queried.

  Though he’d been joking when he said it, as he watched her studying him, Chris suddenly realized he wanted to belong to her. What they had was so new as to be raw, but it was passionate and powerful. He’d felt cared for when he listened to her message on the recorder, had been scared for her when he’d heard she was hurt, and whenever he was around her he wished the entire world would disappear, leaving just the two of them. It was both frightening and wonderful to feel this way about another human being, and he hoped like hell that feeling never went away.

  “You belong to me, Christopher Paytah,” Martie said slowly as she caressed his cheek, “if I belong to you.”

  Chris felt his heart skip a beat. “Believe me—I want you to be mine.”

  “You know, we’re probably crazy, declaring ourselves off-limits to other people after knowing each other all of forty-eight hours,” she said then, a mischievous gleam lighting her eye. “Are you sure you don’t want to play the field a little longer?”

  “Wótheȟila, I’ve played the field long enough,” he said, sighing as he reluctantly withdrew from her and sat on the edge of the cot. “I’m knocking on forty’s door, which means I ain’t getting any younger. I’ve wanted to settle down for a long time, to raise a family of my own while I’m still relatively young enough to enjoy them.”

  Martie sat up as well and put a hand on his shoulder. “And you’ll have those things someday. Maybe we’ll have them together, who knows? Look, two days is long enough for me to know I want to be with someone. Not sure yet how we’re going to work this out given I live in Billings, and there’s still plenty of getting-to-know-you to be done. But obviously I don’t know how to say no to you when it comes to this.”

  She waved a hand between them, and Chris knew she meant the sex. “Truth is I’ve found I don’t even want to. Despite what I said before,” she went on, a smile lighting up her face.

  He returned the smile and reached to brush her hair back. “You might think I’m pulling your leg, but except for a couple of one night stands in my misspent youth, I’ve never fallen into bed this fast with a woman.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh really?”

  Chris held up a hand. “Firefighter’s honor. You’re just… I feel like I can’t resist you.”

  Martie seemed to like that very much, and she proved it by leaning forward and kissing him deeply. Chris was tempted to push her back into the cot and make love to her again, but he knew it was a bad idea to push their luck.

  It was she who broke the kiss, a resigned sigh escaping her lips as she said, “It’s time to get back to reality, I guess.”

  He nodded and stood slowly, reaching for his pants and briefs to draw them up. “Unfortunately. But after this shift is over, I’ve got the next few days off. We can use that time to really get to know each other.”

  “What about Calvin’s funeral?” Martie asked carefully as she reached for her own clothes.

  Chris sighed heavily. For a moment, she’d helped him forget all about it. “Well, except for that. I have to help Kara and Tonja…”

  She turned to him and took his hand in hers. “It’s okay. I know you do. Family comes first.”

  He nodded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he said, “Welcome to mine.”

  Nine

  After putting themselves back together, Chris and Martie took turns in the bathroom washing up. She then went into the office while he headed out into the lounge. Her excuse was that she really needed to get back to work, but in truth she wasn’t sure she could face the other men in his platoon so soon after having sex with their boss just a few rooms away.

  When she sat down to check her messages, she found she had one from Graham. He’d read her preliminary report and wanted her to bring the evidence into Billings right away. She’d figured he would. Martie knew that time was of the essence—what she had might not tell them who had started the fire, but it would certainly tell them how.

  First, she wanted to finish translating her interviews. Making use of the typing skills she’d lear
ned in school, her 120 words per minute speed helped her make quick work of the task. She’d been at it about an hour before Chris came in, this time knocking on the door before stepping over the threshold.

  “Thought I’d do the polite thing,” he said with a grin when she turned a raised eyebrow his way.

  Martie snorted as she pressed the stop button on her recorder. “Sure you weren’t hoping to catch me with my pants down again?” she said flippantly.

  “Nah. I’d rather just take them off myself,” he returned, moving to rest a hip on the edge of the desk. “Speaking of, though, why were you in the bunk room? Football said you would be in here.”

  “Well, I was. But my knee was bothering me, so I went out to ask if there was any kind of muscle rub on the premises. I ran into Terry in the hall and asked him, and he said that you kept it in the cabinet in the bunk room.” She shrugged then. “I just figured since everyone was out in the lounge, I’d be quick about it right where I was—wasn’t expecting to be interrupted.”

  He leaned closer to her, so she could feel his warm breath on her face as he spoke. “But it was a nice interruption, wasn’t it?”

  She grinned in spite of her efforts not to. “Yes it was.”

  Turning away from him, she glanced at her computer screen, where she’d just about finished typing up her interview with Veronica Thompson. With a sigh, she said, “I’ve got to finish this, then I’m afraid I have to head back to Billings.”

  Chris started. “Tonight?”

  Martie glanced up. “Yeah. My boss wants me to get the evidence into the lab ASAP, and the lab is in Billings.”

  “Damn,” he said. “I thought we’d have more time together.”

  Placing a hand on top of his, she told him, “I’ll come back as soon as I can, okay? I should be able to get away to be here for Calvin’s service. Just let me know when it is and I’ll be here for you.”

  He nodded. “I actually just talked to his family. Cal’s parents made it into town and they’re with Kara now. Tonja is supposed to be coming down from Glasgow tomorrow to help them plan the funeral. They’ve asked for my input.”