The Fireman Who Loved Me

by Jennifer Bernard

  “I’m feeling underdressed. Take off your blouse,” said Brody. Melissa’s throat constricted. Their eyes met for a long moment, and she felt weak from the lust-filled promise in his eyes. Slowly her fingers rose and moved to her top button. Her breath came faster as the buttons fell away. When her blouse lay open, she felt his hot eyes roaming over her skin. “Show me your breasts,” he breathed.

  Unable to speak, she drew down the material of her bra to expose her breasts. Her body quivered as a slight movement of air passed across her skin. Her nipples tightened and puckered. “So beautiful,” he said, eyes dreamy and intense. With both hands, he reached for her nipples and touched them tenderly. For such a gentle touch, it sent a spark of lightning through her. With a gleam in his eye, he cupped both her breasts and lightly rubbed her nipples with his thumbs. Her eyes half closed, she swayed toward him.

  “Maybe you should take off that apron,” she whispered.

  “I bet you say that to all the guys,” he joked, with a little tweak of her nipples that made her jump. In revenge, she lifted up his apron and bit her lip at the sight of him, massively aroused. Meeting his eyes, she saw the unmistakable challenge in them. She took hold of his erection, and gently drew him toward her.

  “It looks like dinner’s ready,” she breathed. She untied the strings of his apron and pulled it off him slowly, making a striptease out of it.

  “Help yourself,” muttered Brody in a choked voice as she knelt before him. He leaned back against the wall of the trailer as she licked, stroked, and teased him into a state of frenzy. Her hands roamed his body, weighing his balls, fingers digging into his backside. Where did this craving for his body come from? She wanted to feel every part of him, touch every part with her fingertips, her tongue, the inside of her mouth. When he started to buck against her, he firmly pushed her head away and fought for control with gritted teeth.

  “Get up here,” he growled.

  She rose to her feet, only to find herself airborne as he lifted her up against his body.

  “Put your sweet legs around me,” he said intensely. She did so, her skirt pushing up her legs, and felt his iron hardness burn against her thigh. Bending his head down, he undid the front clasp of her bra with his teeth. He immediately engulfed one breast in his mouth, while his hands made their way inside her panties. Her head jerked backward as his mouth clamped onto her nipple and sent pangs of pleasure down to her belly. She felt the scrape of teeth against her and arched her chest toward him, wanting more of this exquisite joy, more, more, as much as he could give. When his mouth left one throbbing nipple and greeted the other one, she moaned aloud.

  “Brody, Brody . . .” she heard herself say. “It feels too good, I can’t stand it.” He chuckled and pressed her against his erection.

  “I’m just getting started.” He lifted her ass with his powerful hands and sat her on the counter. His hands were all the way inside her panties, his fingers buried deep in her folds. Now he pulled one hand away, and drew the crotch of her panties to one side to expose her flesh.

  “Look at you,” he said wonderingly. “So wet.” Indeed she was. She felt the moisture drip out of her, onto his thumb as it pressed against the small kernel of flesh crying out for his attention.

  “Oh please,” she gasped, and opened her legs further.

  “That’s it, my darling. I want to see you open and begging for me. I want to hear you scream when I put myself inside you. I want you wild for me. You’d better hang on tight, honey.” Urging her on with his whispers, he brought his proudly erect shaft to the burning entrance of her body. Looking down, Melissa caught her breath. How could he possibly fit that huge, glistening thing inside her? But then he gave a thrust of his hip and impaled her.

  Immediately she soared into another world of velvet darkness and fountains of stars. She came right away, with a loud, groaning scream. After a moment of amazement that it had happened so quickly, she felt Brody’s strong hands lift her up, then slam her down on his erection. And unbelievably, she felt a new pleasure growing deep inside her. She leaned forward and sank her teeth into the muscle of his neck—not enough to hurt, just enough to make contact with him.

  He was so strong. He held her up with one hand spread beneath her ass, while the other massaged her breasts. He felt one breast, then the other. “I love the feel of you,” he whispered in her ear. “Your sexy nipple poking against the palm of my hand. Makes me want to . . .” and he demonstrated with a quick thrust of his hips that made her cry out. The sound of her growing pleasure seemed to send him into overdrive, and suddenly the hand on her breast disappeared, and his two hands came under her, manipulating her, moving her up and down like a rag doll as he plunged deep within her. So deep, she almost thought her body would break apart.

  But it didn’t. Only her mind did, exploding into a thousand pieces of unthinking bliss. Through her own haze of ecstasy, she heard Brody shout her name as huge spasms shook his body. She opened her eyes and saw his head thrown back, his eyes half shut into slits of darkest shining gray. With a last thrust, a last groan, he collapsed limply against the wall of the trailer and let her slide down his body.

  On her feet again, she leaned against him and wrapped her arms around him. She rested her cheek against his chest and felt his heart racing against hers. Why had she thought this amazing connection was due to extreme circumstances? Unless wearing an apron counted as an extreme circumstance.

  The black hairs on his chest tickled her mouth, and she blew softly against his skin.

  “Sweet Melissa,” she heard him murmur. Was she really sweet? “Sweet” sounded so dull, so . . . vulnerable. But Brody could call her anything he liked. He could do anything he liked with her. And if that wasn’t vulnerable . . . yes, when it came to him, she was definitely vulnerable.

  She felt so relaxed around him, so incredibly at ease. It had never been this way with Everett. Everett had made her feel many things—from giddy excitement to the lowest despair—but she’d never felt comfortable with him. She couldn’t joke around with him, she couldn’t act silly and goofy. With Brody, she could do all those things, and also discuss something as serious as the janitor’s death.

  But Brody wasn’t her type at all. Right?

  Over the next few days, Melissa forgot to worry about “types.” She found herself living in a new world, a world in which only two people really mattered, her and Brody. Thanksgiving passed in a blur, without any fireman specials. Other people floated in and out, talking to her about her investigation, or nagging her about the dishes (Nelly). But none of that felt real. The only thing that felt real was Brody’s trailer, and the heights of bliss the two of them attained inside that silver nest. They did everything inside that Airstream. For such a small space, they took full advantage of it.

  She squeezed herself onto the tiny countertop, and he bent between her spread legs, licking and nibbling until she screamed for relief. Lounging around watching the tiny TV, he fingered her inner folds until the silky moisture soaked his hand. He pulled her up on his lap, so the rough material of his pants rubbed her from below, while he stroked her from above. She shamelessly ground her hips into his strong thigh. With his other hand, he tugged at her nipples until she jerked and cried out her release. Melissa was sure she’d never come during an AT&T commercial before.

  One time she knocked on the door and found herself staring at a blindfold Brody held toward her. She nodded her wide-eyed consent, and the next moment she was in total darkness, her other senses wide awake to the feel of Brody’s strong hands undressing her, turning her, stroking her. She lost all sense of where she was, even what she was. All she knew was she was lost in a sea of endless sensation, with waves of bliss crashing over her. When she came back to herself and tore off the blindfold, she found she was bent over the arm of the couch, breasts crushed into the cushions, ass high in the air, Brody still buried deep inside her. Nothing seemed too wild anymore,
nothing seemed forbidden.

  They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. But as great as the sex was, they found plenty of time for other things. Inside that trailer, they were able to say everything to each other. She told him about Everett, how he’d destroyed her confidence and sent her fleeing back to the familiar safety of San Gabriel.

  “I was such a little idiot, I really thought he loved me. But he was just toying with me.”

  “Did you love him?”

  “I was dazzled, that’s all. I’m just a kid from Fern Acres. He’s a legend in the news business. I couldn’t believe he even noticed me. But he saw me as a naïve little girl, not a woman.”

  “You, not a woman? Is he blind?” Brody stroked his hands over her curves as they cuddled in their favorite spot on the couch.

  She drew his head down and kissed him passionately. Brody’s kisses were just the right medicine to chase away the bad Everett memories trying to sneak back into her mind. “Oh, who cares about him? He’s screwed up enough of my life. Do you know how hard it was to take such a big step backward?”

  “Yes, and I’m kind of glad you did, or else I never would have met you. Maybe I should thank the bastard.”

  She laughed, and showered his face with kisses.

  “Just a wild stab in the dark, but did Everett do something to make you lose confidence in yourself at work?”

  She drew away. How had he hit so close to the mark? “What makes you think that?”

  “It’s always bugged me that someone as smart as you doesn’t stand up for yourself.”

  “You sound like my grandmother.”

  “Ouch. But you haven’t answered my question.”

  Memories flashed across her mind. Everett’s office . . . star reporter Barb Nelson . . . the most humiliating moments of her life . . .

  She shuddered. “Can we change the subject? Any more talk about Everett, I’ll have to wash off in the shower.”

  “A fine idea.” His leer made her giggle helplessly. And thankfully, he dropped it.

  Later, as he was chopping carrots for beef stew, he told her how he had hired Haskell because of his last name.

  “That’s a little creepy.”

  “But it paid off. I’ve spent a lot of time with your dad, wiring the house. He talks about you a lot.”

  She turned on the faucet to wash the potatoes. “Oh?”

  “Can you blame him? You’re a superstar, Hollywood.”

  “Well, no thanks to him.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Would you have worked so hard if it weren’t for him?”

  Melissa brandished the potato peeler at him. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t know what it’s like.”

  “No? What’s it like?” He asked the question almost casually as he tossed the carrots into the stew pot.

  “Always feeling like you don’t belong, like you have to work ten times as hard, and if anyone finds out the truth about you, you’ll be out on your ass.”

  “Aha.”

  “What do you mean, aha?”

  “So that’s why you put up with Ella’s crap. And everyone else’s.”

  Oh, he was infuriating, with that annoying calm, that irritating . . . bare chest, those sexy baggy running shorts. His thick hair was ruffled from their latest romp, and his eyes narrowed in concentration as he stirred the stew. Looking at him, she felt all her fury melt away.

  “That’s so annoying,” she said. “Just when I’m about to get mad at you, you do that.”

  “What?” he said, glancing up absently.

  “Look so goddamn gorgeous.”

  “I’ll try not to,” he said dryly. “It shouldn’t be too hard. Hoagie’s the heartbreaker.”

  “Good,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.

  “Good?”

  She answered in a whisper. “I don’t want to get my heart broken again.” She closed her eyes tightly against his chest, and felt his hand tangle in her hair. But as she breathed in the warm, spicy scent of his bare skin, she knew her heart was already in major trouble. But she couldn’t be in love, could she?

  She didn’t want to think about love. Sexual ecstasy was one thing—she trusted Brody completely with her body. But she wasn’t about to go giving her heart away to any old handsome fireman who came along. No, she couldn’t possibly be in love. Just because she thought about Brody a hundred times during the course of the day . . . just because she only felt alive when she walked into that trailer . . . just because she stored up a full day’s worth of funny incidents to share with him at night . . . just because she told him all her painful secrets . . . none of that meant she was in love with him.

  If anyone thought otherwise, they kept it to themselves. Even Nelly kept her opinions to herself these days. One evening—during one of Brody’s shifts—Melissa came home to find the kitchen scented with freshly baked molasses cookies. She stared in disbelief.

  “Grans, are you okay?”

  “Sure am. Want some cookies?”

  “I don’t know. What’s in them?”

  “Rat poison. Really, Melissa, you have the most insulting ideas about me. I used to bake for Leon every Sunday.” And maybe that explained why Leon had been twice as crotchety as Nelly, thought Melissa as she gingerly bit into a cookie.

  “Not bad,” she said, surprised.

  “I made a few batches. You can take some to Captain Brody.”

  “Aha! I knew there was a hidden agenda.”

  “Hidden nothing. It’s going pretty well with you two, and I’m pretending not to notice you’re doing the deed with no ring on that finger.” Nelly gave her a scolding gesture.

  Melissa nearly choked on her cookie. “Don’t go old-fashioned on me now, Grans. I know you better than that.”

  “Fine. I just hope you’re being safe. Take the cookies.”

  “I am, and I will, thanks!” She gave Nelly a big kiss and began filling a plastic baggie with cookies.

  Nelly watched, filled with a strange premonition. Her mother had made molasses cookies for her when she’d first started walking out with Leon. Leon had proposed soon after. This bit of memory had floated to the surface during a night of relentless pain that kept her from sleeping. Would molasses cookies make Brody propose to her darling Melissa? At the very least, making the cookies had made her feel normal. It proved she could still function at home. That she didn’t have to think about a hospice yet.

  Something was going to happen soon, she could feel it in her bones. She just didn’t know what.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ella Joy was in the worst mood of her life. And that was saying something. First, Thanksgiving with the Firefighters got canceled. It had gone so well, up until the turkey disaster. She didn’t understand why they couldn’t finish the taping another day. Loudon had the nerve to blame her. Apparently he’d gotten a call from someone at the fire station—he wouldn’t say who—who hadn’t liked how she’d handled the City Hall story.

  “But they’re heroes now, because of me!”

  “They’re heroes because they ran into a burning building.”

  “But no one would know about it if it weren’t for me!” Ella couldn’t believe the injustice and idiocy she had to deal with. Luckily, she and Loudon both knew he feared her, so the unpleasantness hadn’t lasted long. But it had completely ruined the pleasure of her triumph, and had caused her to hurl one of her bouquets—the lamest one, nothing but boring daisies—against the wall of her office.

  Then there was Ryan, who’d been all over her before the fire, and whom she had single-handedly turned into a hero. In return, he’d knifed her in the back by giving an interview to Channel Two. Channel Two. Who were they, compared to Ella Joy? She’d left messages at all his numbers, and gotten no call back. When she’d called the fire station an
d Fred had answered, he’d spoken rudely. In fact, he’d put the phone down and never come back.

  She blamed Melissa for all of it. Melissa had betrayed her, blown the fire story and gotten suspended, and yet people kept talking about what a good job she’d done with the live coverage. They also kept talking about how she’d disappeared with the hot fire captain. On top of that, she had some big investigation cooking, something she hadn’t bothered to tell Ella about.

  The only bright spot was Melissa’s suspension. It provided the perfect opportunity for Ella to kick off her plan.

  She strolled into Melissa’s cubicle. “Looking for glossies,” she announced to the nearby reporters. Luckily, they were all busy with . . . whatever. With her back to the opening, blocking the view from the corridor, she picked up Melissa’s phone and dialed the number she’d memorized.

  “Yes?” a rich, gravelly voice answered.

  Ella did her best to imitate Melissa’s husky voice. “Hi Everett. This is Melissa.”

  “Melissa. I was wondering who was calling from San Gabriel. I’ve been thinking about you lately.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Imagine my surprise at the sight of your lovely face reporting live from a fire. Didn’t I always tell you to give on-camera a shot?”

  Ella ground her teeth. She didn’t want to hear about that. “I’ve been thinking about you too. I’m sorry about the way things ended.” Her palms went sweaty. She was improvising, which could lead to disaster. Or it could lead to the biggest break of her life.

  “That gladdens my heart, my little nectarine.”

  Nectarine? That would have sounded cheesy, if not for his cultured, sophisticated voice, with that hint of Ivy League in it. “Actually, I was hoping you might be coming to San Gabriel sometime soon. I have an idea for you. A great idea.”

  A short silence. Ella held her breath. “A Melissa McGuire story might be worth a trip to the Valley. Can you give me a hint?”