The Firefighter and the Virgin Princess

by Jemma Harte

  Lily felt sorry for her. Tiffany couldn't seem to give her whole self to this dance. She held back, timid and fearful. Lily, on the other hand, threw her body into those contortions and frenzied leaps as if it might be the last time she ever danced. Today she was flying free, nothing holding her to the earth. It was as if she had nothing to lose suddenly.

  He liked her. A real man in the real world found her appealing company. He knew nothing about dancing so he did not admire her for her balance in pirouettes. Joe Rossini just liked her as a woman.

  He was so strong and capable. Lily felt safe with him. Even the stupid, stuck closet door in that hotel room had come open easily under his hands. Just as she did.

  You have to ease these babies open, 'cos if you force it they'll just get stuck.

  Maybe that was what had happened to her and ballet. She'd been forcing it lately, not finding much delight anymore in what was once the love of her life, and then she'd gotten jammed in place. But that afternoon she was freed again at last, her runners nicely oiled.

  Her adventure with Joe the big-handed fireman had been an experimental ballet of sorts and it was successful. Very pleasing and satisfying results had been achieved.

  Suddenly the wintery world of the city wasn't nearly so gray and she forgot about her myriad aches and pains. Maybe her hands and feet were a little sloppy that afternoon, but she really didn't care. She danced for the pure joy of it, as if everything was new again, and when she watched her reflection in the mirrored wall of the studio she saw that happiness shining in her face for the first time in a long, long while.

  * * * *

  So she upped and left. Sneaking off while he slept. Great. He might have known she would.

  He laid a while in the rumpled bed and thought about what just happened there.

  Lily Keene was sexy, funny, interesting and smart. He wanted to know more about her. Everything about her. Hopefully she was feeling the same about him.

  Hard to tell with Nefer-fucking-titi.

  One thing was for sure, he mused, eyeing the empty condom packets that littered the bedside cabinet, she was going to be sore tomorrow, even if she didn't feel it yet today.

  She'd chosen him to be her first. That must mean he was special— hopefully in a good way.

  He was feeling strangely contemplative. When his phone buzzed with a text and it was Mike wanting to know where he was, he didn't feel like answering yet. Joe wanted some time to think about where he was and what just happened, without sharing any of it with his big brother.

  Mike often disapproved of his choices. He would certainly say Joe made a mistake getting involved with a girl like that. Especially taking her to a hotel room and fucking her brains out on their first date— which she insisted wasn't even a date. He didn't have her number or know where she lived.

  You did what? He could hear his brother already. But Mike never did anything remotely reckless. He'd married his high school sweetheart, didn't ever seem to be restless or looking for something more; he did everything by the book. Mike was solid, responsible. And he could be a real fucking pain in the ass when it came to his little brother's love life. Part of the problem was Mike's wife, Sherri. Sherri was always in his ear, telling him that someone had to sort Joe out; someone had to find Joe a wife to keep him on the right track. Really, Sherri just wanted an ally in the battle against her mother-in-law, and she wanted to make sure it was someone who would be on her side.

  But Sherri and Mike's idea of a suitable girlfriend for Joe didn't quite match up with his. He wasn't about to settle for something comfortable and expected. He didn't want routine. That was why he enjoyed his job, despite the horrors he sometimes witnessed. When he went on shift, he never knew what was going to happen. It kept his blood hot and lively. He was never bored. Knowing that he might save a life that day, made him happy to leap out of bed even when it was frigid cold and pitch black outside. Made him whistle in the shower, even if the water-heater was broken.

  He wanted a woman that made him feel the same way and he was pretty sure he'd just found her.

  * * * *

  Joe went to his mother's house for the traditional Sunday dinner and was soon absorbed in the noisy bosom of his family.

  "Where were you today?" Mike demanded. "I thought you were gonna come help me work on the Mustang."

  Mike had bought the rusted out lump of junk several weeks ago— despite his wife's disapproval— and he spent most Sunday mornings, when he wasn't on shift, in his garage "working on the Mustang". Joe suspected his brother just needed an excuse to escape the house for a few hours at the weekend.

  "Yeah. Something came up." My dick, he mused.

  His brother studied his face. "You okay?"

  "Yeah, why?"

  "I don't know. You seem quiet."

  He shrugged, "Maybe I got the flu."

  Mike passed him a beer. "Suck that down to chase the germs away."

  The usual questions about his dating life came up at the table. His mother wanted to know when he would find a nice girl and settle down.

  "Ma, I'm never gonna find a girl who can cook like you, so why bother?" he replied with a grin.

  "Because I won't live forever, Joey. You'll have to learn to cook for yourself, like your brother."

  Down the table Sherri scowled, because she didn't like being reminded that her husband was a better cook than she was. Her mother-in-law, on the other hand, liked reminding her of it. Mrs. Rossini was very proud of her sons and, in truth, no girl would ever be good enough for them, but it didn't stop her riding Joe's ass about his bachelor state.

  "I bet you got no food in your apartment, eh?"

  "Ma, I got snacks at home. I do fine. I eat good at the firehouse. And then I eat out."

  "That's expensive, Joey. You don't take care of yourself." His mother reached over to grab his stomach, and then made a gasp of disgust because she could not find a loose handful of flesh to squeeze through his t-shirt. "What's that Donna girl doing?" she exclaimed, tossing another meatball onto his plate.

  "I don't know, ma. Seeing someone else, I guess."

  "Now she'll marry some other guy now, eh? See you let her go and now you'll be sorry."

  "Ma, I didn't wanna marry Donna. And you didn't even like her."

  "Meh," she shrugged. "She wore too much make-up and she cursed. It's not nice to see a pretty girl curse. It makes them ugly and then no face paint can help."

  "See? So it's a good thing she went off me and found someone else."

  His mother shook her head and tut-tutted, but he knew that was just for show. She was secretly glad he didn't marry Donna. "What you need, Joey, is a good girl. A good sweet, honest girl. Pure. Respects herself and respects you. Not a slut. Non putana!"

  Overhearing this from across the table Mike laughed. "Ma, you think Joe's gonna find a virgin bride in this day and age? Trust me, there ain't no virgins left in New York."

  Sherri shot her husband a dark frown, and he hastily got on with his meal.

  Joe couldn't resist a smug smile as he lifted his beer bottle to his lips. "Hey, don't be so sure about that."

  A moment later Mike's two daughters ran into the dining room, chasing each other around the table, one of them in a pink fairy outfit, hitting her sister on the head with a glittery, star-topped wand.

  Sherri put down her glass of wine to yell, "Antonia! What did I tell you about hitting your sister? And don't run inside the house. Go outside if you wanna run."

  "It's cold outside. Let them run in here," their grandmother exclaimed. "They can't hurt anything." She captured the little fairy on her way by and scooped her up for a hug.

  Joe was always amused to see how lenient his mother was with her grandkids. If that was him and Mike running around the house as boys they would both have got a slap around the head. But in their day they played out in the street and didn't come home until it was dark. Things were different then.

  "Antonia, tell your uncle Joe what you want to be when you grow
up."

  The little girl gave a gap-toothed grin. "A fairy!"

  "That's not what you said earlier."

  "Oh... a ballerina," the child exclaimed, hitting her grandmother on the head with that wand. "I wanna be a ballerina."

  Joe set his bottle down in a hurry and swallowed a gulp of beer.

  Across the table, Mike muttered, "Thirty dollars a week. Hundred and twenty dollars a month— for four, one-hour long Saturday morning lessons. Let's hope she finds something cheaper she wants to be."

  "You like the ballet, Antonia?" Joe looked at his little niece.

  She nodded.

  Joe had been looking for something to do with his nieces, because they weren't into football or baseball— not yet anyway. And now he could take them to see Lily. His heart was beating hard and fast when he thought about Lily.

  He didn't like that she'd snuck off without a goodbye that afternoon, or that he didn't even have her number. Usually girls pestered him to call them and they would definitely sulk if he took off right after sex. Lily, though, was pretty casual about the whole thing, despite giving him her virginity. She reminded him of a shy bird in the park coming to peck at the breadcrumbs he threw down, but reluctant to get too close, watching him with one curious, wary eye. If he tried to catch her, she'd fly off and it would take longer to regain her trust. So he'd play it cool.

  "Maybe I'll take you and your sister to see the New York Ballet Theater. Would you like that, Antonia?"

  "You?" Mike snorted. "What do you know about the ballet? Do you even know where the New York Ballet Theater is?"

  "Sure."

  "Since when?"

  "Hey, I know a lot of things. And this way I'll get to spend time with my favorite girls."

  His brother gave him a narrow-eyed look, but their mother patted his hand. "That's a very nice thing to do, Joey. You're a good uncle."

  He grinned. "Yeah, I am, ain't I?"

  * * * *

  He sent a small bunch of flowers and a note to the theater. It was waiting by her dressing room mirror on Monday evening.

  Princess,

  You didn't leave me a phone number, but I assume you have one so call me. Anytime.

  I want to see you again. We don't have to call it a date.

  Regular Joe (See I got to the point. I wasn't circuitous)

  And he'd written his phone number along the bottom of the paper.

  Reading the note again, she sighed deeply. He was cute. Very. But she shouldn't let him distract her more than he had already. She'd trained all these years to be a dancer; that was her sole focus. There was no time or space for dating in her life, was there? Was there?

  That morning in class the director had spoken to her, complimented her "line" in an arabesque. Her hip wasn't stiff and her foot wasn't hurting. Maybe Joe had done something magical to her. Or he'd simply taken her mind off it for a while.

  As she exited the stage that night she encountered one of the lead male dancers who smiled at her, winked and said, "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. You look fabulous tonight, good enough to eat, sweety."

  Lily didn't know what to say to that, so she laughed and blushed. A compliment from a gay dancer was high praise indeed.

  Maybe it had done her good to have something other than dance to think about for once. She looked at her face in the mirror and saw the sparkle in her eyes, the confident glow in her cheeks. Amazing the difference he'd made after just one morning in his company.

  Reading Joe's note again, she felt a smile play over her lips, but it was so shy she daren't look up and see it in the mirror.

  If she met him just once more it surely couldn't do any harm. Once more.

  The sex was too much for her to resist. His body invaded her dreams, and not just those she had at night, but those she occasionally wandered into during daylight hours too.

  Chapter Six

  They met three times over the next week, always going to the same hotel, sometimes barely talking. The meetings weren't scheduled in advance. She would just call him suddenly and ask if he was free for an hour or so. Yeah, it was damn sexy, kept him on his toes.

  On the fourth occasion he insisted they take a horse and carriage ride through Central Park, as if they were tourists. She said she'd never done it, despite living more than ten years in the city. There wasn't much, it seemed, that she had done there apart from dance.

  "I don't want you to get all panicky," he told her somberly. "This ain't a date. I know it seems romantic, but don't get any mushy ideas."

  She looked at him, one eyebrow arched. "Oh, I won't."

  It was a cold afternoon, the air crisp and brittle, and they huddled together under a plaid blanket as the carriage rolled through the shimmering, frosty winter park.

  "Didn't you find your gloves?" she asked.

  "Nah." He grabbed her hands under the blanket. "You'll have to keep them warm for me."

  It was two days since he'd seen her and he'd missed her. It made his voice husky, the desire to touch her almost overwhelming. Her skin was so soft and dewy, her blue eyes inky that afternoon, dark and heavy.

  When she said, "Let's go to the hotel now and get warm properly," he didn't argue.

  Planning ahead for a change, he always brought condoms with him now.

  They barely got the door shut before they were pulling their clothes off, dropping underwear and stepping out of it as they kissed and touched like two horny teenagers. They showered together and fucked in a mad, desperate coupling against the wet, soapy tiles, as if they were starved for each other. Joe lifted her onto his cock and she wrapped her legs around his waist, gasping, her face turned up to the stream of water. His balls tingled with the need to empty and his shaft thrust hard up into her. He licked and suckled her tits until they were scarlet and firmly peaked. God, he'd dreamed of having her all day, his body restless to lay with her again. Sometimes he broke out in a sweat when he thought about her. It was an addiction.

  "Fuck my ass," she gasped out, spitting water. "I want to try it."

  That made him swell another inch. He loved her sexy, adventurous spirit. "Oh yeah? Well, we need lube for that, Princess."

  "I know." She opened her eyes and looked at him with water drops in her lashes. "I brought some. It's in my coat pocket."

  Apparently he wasn't the only one prepared these days.

  "I bought the type highly recommended by some of the boys I know," she added.

  So, with her pussy still impaled her on his erection, he carried her out of the bathroom. Every footstep he took across the carpet must have vibrated inside her, because she giggled and groaned and clawed at his back. He lifted her off his cock and she knelt on the bed, bent over, her ass high.

  With a trembling hand, Joe ripped off the condom and replaced it with another. He took the tube of lubrication he found in her coat and squeezed some onto his finger.

  "Hope you're sure about this," he muttered, climbing onto the bed beside her. "It's gonna hurt."

  She wriggled her ass. "Just do it, Lieutenant."

  Bossy little madam!

  Joe slid his finger into her ass crack and pressed it against the puckered anus. She gasped and moved her knees further apart on the bed, arching her back.

  "You sure about this?" he murmured, probing again with his lubed finger. Her skin twinkled with drops of water, as if she'd rolled in diamonds. He bent to lick the curve of her ass.

  "Yes. Yes."

  His finger pushed through that tight rim, and he felt her muscles clamp hard on it. "Easy. Relax." With his other hand he stroked her butt, but she was still tense, so he spanked her.

  Hard.

  She yelped and then finally her ass relaxed. "That's it, baby. Yeah. There ya go." Bending down, Joe tongued her pink twat, sucking up shower water and sticky juice. Her pussy quivered and ripened. Slowly he forced a second finger into her ass, while she lowered her shoulders to the bed and groaned deeply.

  "I'm on fire, Joe."

  He chuckled, his l
ips pressed to her cunt. "Don't worry, Joe's here to put the flames out." He certainly had the loaded hose to do it. His cock was about to burst. He only wished he had two cocks so he could fuck her ass and pussy at the same time and fill her up with plenty of Joe.

  * * * *

  His tongue inside her cunt was teasing and slippery, toying with her clit. He must have heard her breathing haphazardly and felt her arousal mounting, for he knew exactly when to pause this tongue and when to quicken it again.

  He kept her on the edge of a climax so rough and raw she wanted to scream.

  "Put your cock in my ass," she gasped out, her hands gripping the bed cover, her body flexing, pushing her bottom high in the air, head down.

  Joe pulled his fingers out of her anus and positioned himself behind her. "I'm coming, Lily. Hold tight."

  His knob pushed between her cheeks. He must have put lube on the condom for it felt cool and slick. Carefully she adjusted her breathing to relax her muscles. It was lucky she did, because he didn't wait too long, but forced his way in through her rectum, his hands reaching under to hold her breasts. His warm breath caressed the back of her neck and then he nipped her there.

  Fondling her breasts his hands were just rough enough, teasing and tweaking her nipples, squeezing her flesh.

  She shuddered and turned her head to see their reflection in the long wall mirror. His muscular, tanned form swamped her smaller, paler body on that bed. He dominated her utterly. The tendons in his thighs worked hard as he thrust in and out with a powerful, animalistic grace. He was magnificent. Such a pity a man so well made had to wear clothes that hid his perfect masculinity. He was sex on two feet.

  From the moment they first met he'd disturbed her senses, something inside him communicating directly with something inside her, cutting through all the bullshit to say, "This is what you want. This man right here." She'd tried to ignore it and failed.