FILF: Fireman I'd like to... (HotShots Book 1)

by Savannah May

  “Let’s get out of here,” he commands.

  “I don’t think this messy wet bundle of a designer dress is going back on me,” I reply.

  With a few tugs and adjustments, Hopper fixes the fabric into a skirt covering my lower half. Then he slides my arms into his jacket. Scooping me up into his arms, he carries me, traditional groom style out of the pool house, through the main mansion where we meet a few stunned faces and out to the car.

  “Your place or yours?” I ask, wondering what he plans to do now he’s gotten what he wanted. I have no trepidation that he’s about to turn cold on me again. His face looks completely different, relaxed, younger and even more impossibly gorgeous.

  “Mine I think,” he laughs. Which really didn’t give me much of a clue after all. But I don’t care because his trust in me has returned. He stood up for me against his entire social circle and even told them basically they could choose – him or me.

  Once we’re heading back into the city in back of his limo, curiosity about his announcement back there overcomes me.

  “You said you were an animal in a cage once,” I ask, hoping not to ruin the moment. “What did that mean?”

  “I was jailed,” he says, like he’s announcing he had breakfast. “I made a mistake.”

  He’s so unmoved by it, I’m stunned.

  “Wow, doing what?”

  For a moment Hopper looks like he doesn't want to say more, then changes his mind. Another indication of his trust in me.

  “When I first started out on my own, I came to one of the big investment guys with a plan. I needed another player to give me credibility with billionaire clients, and a line of credit. I sold them all on the deal, took their millions, but then I realized this guy was operating his version of a ponzi scheme.”

  “That’s where you keep borrowing off the money you just received,” I say, just to make sure I know. “Like paying Peter with Paul?”

  “Yeah except this dude was bypassing Peter and only paying himself.”

  “Embezzling.”

  “Pretty much. It works like a dream unless it tumbles. When it inevitably did, the young buck took the fall while the old one walked away.” “The rich man never goes to jail,” I say. “It’s the poor, women and blacks keeping the jail game going.”

  “It’s just another ponzi scheme and a nice little earner seeing as prisons are a private industry,” Hopper says. I feel the tension rising in his muscle. “But you see it can happen to anyone that doesn’t have the money and connections to get out of it.”

  “Let’s not talk about that any more,” I say, nestling into his side and nudging at him to take me under his powerful wing. No one will be able to get me there. I’m finally safe.

  And I’m much happier being at home when Hopper’s with me and it’s just us two without all the eyes following us around the room.

  We order in dinner and watch a movie on the huge screen, then Saturday Night Live. When the musical guest comes on, Hopper pulls me up from the sofa.

  “I didn’t get to dance with you today.” “Um, You did a whole lot more moves than dancing.” “Yeah but my slow dance on a Saturday night has kept me sane and insane over the last month. Indulge me.” “My pleasure,” I slip into his powerful arms. He encircles me and pulls me in closer like always. Only this time, just the way I’d fantasized every single wedding, and apparently he did too, we end up naked and clinging deeper to each other before the dance is over.

  Chapter 24

  Hopper

  “You’re the one playing the role,” Grace teases me various times through the weekend. “You aren’t going to send me an invoice for how you’ve been acting the perfect boyfriend, are you?”

  I pick her up and set her on the countertop so she can’t go running around the open plan apartment. She has a tendency to start a game of chase me whenever her nervousness or insecurity arises. It’s made for a fun weekend as I catch her every time and we end up fucking like it’s the last weekend for the planet. But I can tell she thinks it genuinely is and that I’m going back to my ‘playboy ways’ as she calls them, the instant Monday arrives.

  “Babe you have to trust your trust in me. I’m not going to change how I feel about you. I don’t know what this is yet because I’ve been burned by instalove before, realizing it’s only hormones. But what’s between us isn’t like that. It’s definitely something so just relax and go with it. Can you do that?”

  Tears fill her eyes, threatening to spill. But she smiles directly into my solid gaze and wraps her hands around the back of my neck. A possessional move that I actually enjoy when performed by Grace and one that soon has me pushing her thighs apart for the - god knows what the number of times it’s been in the last twenty four hours. We just can’t get enough of each other and I can’t see that evaporating over the next twelve.

  I don’t wanna get sappy but I spend the best Sunday of my life just hanging out with Grace. I make her breakfast while she sits on the countertop wearing my shirt just like I envisioned. We eat in bed and don’t move from it until the afternoon when I get her up to go for a walk. Hand in hand we stroll up Fifth and back down Park like any couple. Except she tips her face up to me at one point, no special reason but the look in her eyes sets my alight. I pick her up in my arms and jog back to the house, tossing her down on the rug as soon as I kick the door closed on the outside world behind us. She’s not moving from my bed the rest of the day.

  We take the car to the office together on Monday morning and she looks up at me cheekily, when she says, “I’ve always wanted you to fuck me in the back of your town car, Sir.”

  “You little vixen,” I tell her, laughing. “You’re a corporate spy, sent by the competition to bankrupt me, aren’t you?” She’s so distracting all I can think of is being deep inside her while my mouth trails across her skin. Business is entirely forgotten.

  We’re still joking when we get out of my elevator, her hand in mine and I lead her past the break room where it all began. She looks up at me again with that naughty grin. Then she slides her hand out of mine, remembering that we’ve arrived at my office. And I need to play my role as the big boss. I’m just about to tell her I don't give a shit who sees us. I want people to know. But we round the corner and standing beside Janice’s desk is Mrs, whatever – Grace’s parole officer.

  I feel my girl tense up beside me and know this can’t be good.

  “Good morning, Mr Grady,” the woman says deferentially then less so, “And Grace.” “Good morning -” Janice immediately picks up on my loss and interjects for me, coming to the rescue.

  “Ms Treadwell has come to check on Grace, as she um, hasn’t been seen at her residence for almost a month.”

  “I -” Grace interrupts, immediately on the defensive, but I stop her.

  “I moved Grace into town,” I tell the woman.

  “That isn’t permitted,” she replies. Her attitude of ownership suddenly irritates me as never before. Grace belongs to me not her.

  “I decide what’s permitted in my company, Ms Treadwell. I need my interns here in the office on time, not wasting their lives sitting in city traffic.”

  “There are rules. But apart from that, Grace, you were in trouble with the police again -”

  “I wasn’t.” “Officer Pandy called me himself.” “I have no doubt,” I interject. This is all my fault, I moved Grace, I told that officer to leave my building.

  “You were planning to leave the country,” the woman accuses my girl. “I was not,” Grace shouts. I can see how mad she’s getting over the woman’s assumptions that all her – assumptions – are correct.

  “And you can’t deny that you were drinking and fighting on Saturday.” She holds up her phone with a video some asshat must have posted of Grace and Sophie in their catfight. Also my fault.

  “She attacked me and pulled me into the pool,” Grace yells.

  “I know, Dear. Its’ always someone else’s fault,” the parole officer says with excess p
retense of patience. She’s meant to be a charitable worker but I’m not seeing much sign of that when she adds, “I’m going to have to take you back in.”

  “No,” Grace screams and grabs my forearm so tight her fingers gouge at the muscle almost as hard as when she screams my name as she comes.

  “She’s not going anywhere,” I announce firmly.

  “I’m sorry I truly am, but if you don't comply Grace and be a good girl, I’ll have to call for back up.”

  For fucks sake. Don’t these people have any real criminals to harass? Grace has started with the terror shaking again and the woman’s going to need the fucking army of SEAL forces to get Grace out of my care. They want a power battle, they’re about to see one.

  I take Grace by the hand, walk her into my office and yank open a drawer in my desk. I have to rummage at the back to find what I’m looking for. The social worker woman outside is already on the phone making a call to the cops. She stands in my doorway, making sure I can hear her. Like I’m going to be intimidated by a couple of beat Sargents. Grace’s eyes stretch wide when she sees what I was looking for. I drag her across to my closet and her parole officer halts mid-sentence when she sees what I’m doing.

  I snap the handcuffs I pulled out around Grace’s wrists. Then I raise her arms above her head and attach them to the bar for hanging heavy coats supported into the cement where my personal safe is. She’s safely secured for now, not going anywhere. I slip the key into my trouser pocket and pull out my phone to make a call to my friend, Judge Chapman. Back when he was a lawyer, he picked up my case, got my sentence rescinded and the criminal record expunged. I owe him everything and he’s collected many times over.

  “Andy, how are the wife and the dog?” I ask when he picks up on the second ring. He makes the usual joke about wishing he could be married to the dog or some shit, then like always asks me when I’m going to find a woman to shackle up to.

  “Actually I have a girlfriend and we’re pretty serious but she’s in a little trouble. I was hoping you could help me.”

  I love seeing the shock horror roll across the three women’s faces surrounding me. My assistant is used to my defiant stunts when it comes to crossing the authorities and doing what I want. But this time, even she is gobsmacked by my audacious attitude. She’s never seen me in love before.

  Naturally my old pal Andy has a friend of a friend connected to Grace’s case and says it could take a day or two but he’s sure it will be taken care of. It’s gonna cost me but Grace is worth anything and everything.

  “So Ms, er,” I turn to the social worker that makes her living liaising with my charitable foundation.

  “Treadwell,” Janice murmurs, still slack jawed.

  “Yeah, Ms Treadwell. It’s your choice, either you can willingly leave Grace’s rehabilitation in my care, or I’ll have to leave her shackled in my closet until Judge Chapman gets the paperwork over to me.”

  “I don’t know. This is kind of irregular.”

  “I know what you mean. I’ve never been in this situation myself either but I'm sure you understand that I have to protect the woman I love at all costs. I’m sure you can make this go away without me having to hire anyone to dig up something you’d rather was left buried.”

  Her face clouds over and then anger rises but she squashes it back down fast.

  “I’ll give it two days and do whatever my supervisor tells me,” she snips.

  “I’m sure you will. Janice, show Ms Treadwell to the elevator will you?”

  The two women look frozen in shock then move away.

  “Oh by the way,” I call them back. “What you don’t see on that vicious little video is that Grace saved the woman’s life. She deserves to be applauded for her selflessness not slung back in the slammer for not cow-towing to stupid rules.”

  Treadwell opens her mouth to speak but clearly can’t think of anything to say. With a last look at Grace handcuffed in my coat closet, she allows Janice to lead her away.

  I round on Grace, triumphantly and find her staring at me and breathing erratically. She looks absolutely gorgeous restrained in my closet like that.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t train you better from the start,” I tell her, with a filthy grin so she relaxes and forces a smile. “I may have to keep you like that forever.”

  Her lip is trembling so hard I think I’ve done a terrible thing in padlocking her into restraints. Have I triggered a slew of memories she can’t deal with? Perhaps my baby will never really be over that horror she went through even in a playful environment. As I take a few steps toward her she tenses up. But her nipples are hard little points pushing through the fabric of her dress.

  “I want you inside me right now,” she says so softly I move closer to hear her better. Her eyes turn up to me filled with the heat of desire. “Fuck me, Hopper. Now.”

  Chapter 25

  Grace

  Hopper doesn’t wait a second after my desperate entreaty. He strides to his office door and kicks it closed. Then he walks back to his desk, already throwing his jacket off and tugging at his tie. My god, he is so sexy when he’s aroused and flexing his power. So breathtakingly handsome. And he’s mine. For now at least.

  For right now.

  I feel like I've dodged a bullet thanks to him keeping me from going back to a cell. But the adrenaline coursing through my veins has to be expelled somehow and my body wants it to be via one of the massive Os Hopper never fails to deliver.

  I’m expecting him to grab the key to my restraints and release me, but he lifts up a skinny black stick with feathers attached to the end.

  “Know what this is?” he rotates the thing in the air and moves toward me slowly while unbuttoning his shirt at the same time.

  “A feather duster?” I murmur, wondering why the hell he has cleaning supplies in his desk. But that vanishes when his shirt falls open and I'm greeted with the sight of his stomach all sculpted with hard ridges, which never fails to incite me. My panties are soaked through already and I rotate my hips to release some of the ache between my legs. No luck, because when he tosses the shirt back off his impressive round shoulders, revealing the twitching hard mounds of his chest, there’s a flood down there. He looks like a god or a gladiator and the shirt open, the loosened tie only accentuate what’s hidden every day under the business uniform.

  He grins like a demon with a plan and moves close enough, into the closet opening that I feel the heat pouring off his skin. Skin as smooth as leather, that I want to stroke and run my fingers all over except of course I'm restrained from touching him. Completely helpless. He spins me around and leans my back against that solid chest wall. The bulge of his hunger for me presses into my butt.

  “You know how I love this dress,” Hopper moans, yanking the tie-string of the wraparound.

  I do know he loves it because of how it clings to every line of me. When he sent Henry to get a few of my things for Monday morning from my old home, he told him exactly which dress to pull from the closet. Last night he made me go online and order four more.

  Now it falls open and every pore of my skin lights up.

  “Are you going to untie me?” I mewl, rolling my butt against his bulge as he tips his head into my neck which always makes my skin prickle with rising goosebumps.

  “No,” he husks in a raw voice that lights up my pores.

  “Oh,” I gasp sharply as the feather thing trails up my inner thigh and over my tummy. Every single nerve ending is standing up alert – ones I never knew existed until now. In combination with Hopper’s rough jaw in my neck curve, the soft tickle is enthralling.

  He unhooks my bra behind me and yanks it up so my tits fall free. Then he goes to work with that duster, wandering across the extreme point of my nipple until it stands erect as a soldier on parade. It’s the most exquisite torture, making me moan out loud and thrust my ass back against his pulsing bulge.

  “Slow down, baby,” he burrs into my neck. “We have all day.” “What if Cyn
thia brings the police back?” I mewl, desire for him making me shake.

  “Does that excite you?” he husks, the tickler moving back down to my inner thighs so I quiver against Hopper’s solid chest and rock hard cock.

  “You’re… torturing… me,” I pant out, all breath vanished from the suddenly airless closet.

  “I know,” he rasps. “You love it.”

  A finger hooks into my panties to pull them to one side. The air on my swollen clit is inciting enough but then the feather strokes across the point. An explosion of fireworks goes off through my core and I shudder into Hopper’s chest wall. Which obviously doesn’t give one inch.

  Anyone could come in. Janice might return. An intern. The police, for fucks sake. I don't care. I love being restrained by Hopper. I love how he tortures my body into the peak of desire, drawing out pleasure and hunger in equal measure until I want to thrash and scream and beg him to fuck me again.

  He takes his own sweet time though.

  All I can do is moan, and writhe, and an urgent ‘please’ escapes my lips which only makes him chuckle.

  “I wish I’d had you begging your boss like this for the last month,” he says against my lobe. “It’s absolutely fucking divine. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.”

  “Then take me,” I blurt out in a shout of frustration. I need him to push into my throbbing pussy more than I need anything on the planet. I need him to take me right here in his office where anyone might come in and find us.

  “Shhh,” he says. The stroking across my sensitive points continues until I’m about to come totally undone. I’m writhing against Hopper’s back, undulating, jerking, anything to make him give in. My legs are parted as far as they can go in the high heels as I encourage him to push inside me. All he does is let out another raw chuckle against my neck and make me suffer. Every cell is on the edge of a precipice, shivering with anticipation. If he walks away from me now, I’ll lose my freaking mind.