Hot Dad

by Whitley Cox

  I couldn’t see my daughter’s face, but based on the way she bobbed her head up and down and her body bounced, I’d say she was pretty happy about that idea.

  Harper stood up, reaching for Gemma’s hand. “Come on.” She turned back to me. “Make sure my kid doesn’t choke and shares the Brontosaurus.” Then she winked, blew me a kiss and took off down the hall with my skipping three-year-old.

  I brought out my phone as I stared at the two of them hop down the hall.

  S: My head buried between your legs ALL NIGHT.

  S: Thank you.

  S: I love you.

  I was just getting Landon out of the carrier and hanging up the diaper bag in the gymnasium when my phone buzzed.

  H: That sounds like one hell of a plan.

  H: She’s having a blast.

  H: I love you, too.

  Then she sent me a picture of Gemma with an almost maniacal gleam in her eye, gleefully ripping up paper, a giant smile on her face and no more tears, and all because of Harper.

  Chapter 21

  Harper

  It was Wednesday night, and we were both exhausted. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open as I lay in Carly’s bed and read stories with her at seven o’clock. It’d been a jam-packed day. We’d met Sam and the kids at the pool. All three kids got along swimmingly (ha ha, good one, Harper), and then we headed off to lunch at the kiddie cupcake café up the street, followed by a trip to the library for their puppet show. By the time Carly and I got home, we were dead on our feet. She’d skipped her nap as we’d been out all day, and I hadn’t had a true moment to put my feet up and just chill. We both sat at the kitchen table like drowned zombies, smelling of chlorine and eating leftover homemade mac-and-cheese from the night before, neither of us really saying much because we’d reached our word quota for the day.

  But despite my lead-laden eyelids, I had work to do, so once I knew she was asleep, I crept out, shut the door and made my way to the kitchen. I put on a pot of Earl Grey, grabbed a couple of gingersnap cookies from the tin and then sat down on the couch with my laptop. I was yawning more than I was typing when my phone buzzed.

  S: You up?

  H: Is this a booty call?

  S: If you open your door it is.

  Nearly knocking my laptop onto the floor and spilling my cold tea, I leaped up off the couch and sprinted to the door. Newfound energy coursed through me courtesy of my raging libido and Sam’s promises from Monday.

  I flung open the door and practically came on the spot.

  Holy freaking shit.

  I was speechless.

  “I heard there was a fire here, ma’am. I’ve come to investigate.”

  He was in full firefighter getup. The whole shebang. Hat, jacket, boots, pants. Everything. And he looked incredible.

  I still hadn’t said anything. I hadn’t even invited him in. I just continued to take in the beauty that was Sam Wright. Desire flowed through me hot and heavy, as if someone had poured mulled wine into my veins. My cheeks grew warm and sweat slicked my palms.

  He quirked one eyebrow up beneath the brim of his hat. “Is there a fire in here?”

  Yeah, in my loins.

  I nodded and held open the door for him. Sam in civvies was a big force of nature to share a hallway with, but Sam in firefighter gear was like sharing a closet with silverback gorilla.

  He stepped inside; I couldn’t stop myself from inhaling. He smelled like a firefighter. Smoky and just a little sweaty, but also earthy and spicy and not without that subtle underlying hint of minty freshness.

  Turning to face me, he removed his hat. “I don’t smell a fire. Did you prank-call the fire department, Miss Reynolds? You know that’s a federal offense. I could have you handcuffed and hauled away by the cops with a simple phone call.”

  I swallowed, my eyes continuing to rake his body, from his big sexy boots up his big sexy chest and down again. “I-I thought I smelled fire,” I stammered.

  “Coming from where?” His brows pinched in mock seriousness.

  My loins, remember.

  “Uh, the oven. But turns out it wasn’t. It was just a bit of cheese on the element. I’m sorry. I overreacted. Are you going to handcuff me now?”

  His lip twitched. He patted his pockets as if looking for something. “I’m sorry, Miss. It would appear I’ve left my handcuffs in my other sexy fireman pants. Do you happen to have some I could borrow?”

  Oh, he was a cheeky bugger. But in that uniform, looking so drop-dead doable, I couldn’t laugh. All I could do was swoon and submit to his demands.

  I nodded. “I think I might have some handcuffs. Though, would an apology suffice? Or perhaps…” I moved into his body and cupped him before sinking to my knees, bringing his zipper down with me. “It could just be our little secret. I won’t tell if you don’t.” I fished his hard length out of his filthy and smoky fire-retardant pants and brought him into my mouth. His hand fell to the top of my head, and he groaned, his head knocking lightly against the wall of the foyer.

  “God, you’re so fucking good at that,” he said through gritted teeth. He bunched his hands in my hair and created a small ponytail at the nape of my neck. My hair is chin length with a swoop of bangs, so he didn’t have much to work with. But he managed, and soon he was using that ponytail for leverage, easing himself into my mouth, then lazily drawing himself back out. I swirled my tongue around his length with each draw and contracted my throat on each plunge.

  “Yes, you dirty little thing. Fuck. So fucking good.”

  Pride swelled warm and happy in my chest at how much I pleased him. He rammed himself to the back of my throat hard, and tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I was just bringing my hand up to help me when I suddenly found myself back on my feet with Sam’s hands on my waist. His hands delved beneath my oversize nightshirt and fingers probed my wet panties.

  A bear-like growl rolled through his broad chest. “You’re saturated.” His other hand came up beneath my shirt, and without taking those incredible blue eyes of his off me, he tore my panties right from body.

  I gasped.

  He grinned.

  And in another blink I was being gripped by the hips and hoisted up on to his shoulders, straddling his face with my back high up against the wall of my dark foyer. The material of his rough firefighter jacket scratched the backs of my thighs, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care. Sam dove into my wet pussy with feral need, eating me out as if he were famished. Hard, demanding licks followed by mind-boggling swirls and fierce sucks. I was close in seconds. My fingers wove into his hair, and I pulled on the ends to keep myself from falling over as my legs trembled and my pussy rippled around his wicked tongue.

  I broke with a silent cry. My mouth opened and my head tilted up, but nothing came out. Thoughts, words, sounds, they all ceased to exist. All I could do was feel. And Sam made me feel incredible. When my climax finally receded, he helped me down to my feet. I wrapped my arms around his neck and lifted up to my tiptoes, pressing my body against his hardness and my lips against his. I could taste my arousal on him, and it just turned me on even more. My essence mixed with his own intoxicating flavor and scent, it made me lightheaded, and the hollow ache between my legs from where his face had just been widened to a painful emptiness—a furious need.

  I pulled away from his kiss.

  His eyes were hooded and his smile lazy. “Bedroom, now.”

  My hands fell to the side and I linked our fingers, pulling him down the dark hallway toward my bedroom.

  “Another one?” I asked, well, more like panted; sweat misted my naked body. Sam was on his front, his face between my legs and his tongue back on my clit. The man had made a promise to me Monday, and he apparently intended to keep it. Since entering my room, he’d done nothing but pleasure me. Orgasm after glorious orgasm had rippled through me from his diabolically talented mouth and fingers. And even when I tried to push him off and begged for reprieve, he ignored me and continued to feast, demanding anothe
r orgasm from me, even when I didn’t think I had any left.

  Sam lifted his head, his hungry lips glistening with my release. “I told you I was going to thank you.”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes. I-I believe I’ve been thoroughly thanked. We don’t want my clit to fall off. Or your tongue to get a blister.”

  He nipped my inner thigh, and I yelped. Pleasure quickly followed on the heels of pain as he dove back in and gave another sinister sweep up through my folds with the flat of his tongue. I moaned, dissolving deeper into the mattress.

  “One more, baby. Then I’ll let you sleep.” His voice was no more than a whisper as he remained hard at work.

  He found my G-spot with unerring accuracy, and my hips nearly leaped off the bed. Pleasure flooded me; my entire body tightened as a release, another one, this one harder and more intense than the last, rolled over me—so perfect. So complete. A few swirls with that incredible tongue, a couple of hard sucks that had me seeing stars, and I was gone. Floating up into the abyss as desire flashed through me, sharp and burning.

  Just then the silence of the night, of our orgasm den, was shattered by the deafening screech of the smoke detector in the kitchen. Sam leaped up to his feet and raced to the door. He put the back of his hand to the door to check if it was hot. A frown said it wasn’t, and he reached for the knob, pausing and looking at me. Fear in his eyes. “Do you smell smoke?”

  I stopped. Sniffed. And then I saw it; smoke, not much, but enough, slowly seeping in through the vent at the top of my wall. I smelled it, too. I nodded. “Yes.”

  I stood up, climbed onto my vanity and hastily closed the vent.

  “Me too.” He opened the door and crouched down, disappearing into the darkness of the suite; the screaming alarm continued to wail. I scrambled to find my yoga pants with the hole in the bum and then went to find him.

  “Mama?”

  I spun around at the mouth of the hallway to find Carly, confused and sleepy, her blanket and dinosaur bucket in her hands.

  “What going on?”

  I coughed as more smoke filled the house. Grabbing Carly, I clutched her to my chest and moved back into my room, shutting the door. I opened up my bedroom window, preparing a quick exit if needed.

  We weren’t in there five minutes when the door flung back open and Sam stood there, new soot on his face and sweat on his brow. “Did you leave the oven on?” he asked, panic in his eyes.

  I shook my head. “No, why?”

  His eyes darted to Carly, then back to me before he wandered back out to the kitchen. I hadn’t even noticed, but the smoke alarm had stopped. My jaw nearly hit the floor when I rounded the corner and saw the kitchen, foyer and part of the living room. Everything was a charred mess smothered in fire extinguisher foam.

  Black smoke hugged the yellow walls and ceiling. My stove, the side of the fridge, overhead cabinets and microwave were all half melted and burned.

  Without saying anything, and Carly perched safely on my hip, I meandered over to the foyer. Our coats and shoes were nothing but ash or tattered pieces. Dark burn marks licked up the walls and door.

  “Wh-what happened?”

  Sam was about to open his mouth when a wail, much like the one from a moment ago, but this time more distant and muffled, cut him off. It was coming from upstairs. Shit! Quinn was upstairs alone with the kids. Rick was out of town for work.

  Fear swamped me, and my body trembled. Footsteps pounded on the wood floor up above, followed by voices.

  “Is there a door to get upstairs?” Sam asked.

  I pointed to the door next to the closet in the hallway. “Right there. Just go through the laundry room.”

  He nodded and then took off, only to double back. “Pack up your stuff. You can’t stay here tonight. Once you’re safely outside call 911.” Then he shut the door. Seconds later, the heavy thumping footsteps of his boots on the stairs thundered through the walls.

  I went to work getting Carly bundled, packing up some clothes, my computer and phone and her toys, all the while trying not to think about my charred and smoldering home.

  Luckily, our boots were next to the heater in the laundry room, so not all our footwear had succumbed to the flames. We were just getting our boots on when Sam came back.

  “What happened?”

  “We need to go, now.” His lips set in firm, thin line. “Something’s going on. The fires were started in the exact same places. You’re not safe here.”

  Fear pierced me and a light ringing filled my ears.

  Not safe?

  “These fires were deliberate, Harper.” His voice was muffled through the ringing as if I had cotton in my ears and we were speaking over the phone through a bad connection. “Someone was able to get into the house and set them. It was arson.”

  Arson.

  Someone had come into my home, where my child slept, where my niece and nephew slept and set the house ablaze.

  Why?

  He reached for my hand, but I couldn’t move. My feet were leaden.

  Sam pulled harder. “We have to go. Quinn is packing up the kids. We’ll go to my place. I have space. Come on.”

  Carly’s hand fell to my cheek, and that’s what finally snapped me out of my trance. “Mama.” Her eyes were so tired, her hair mussed and her face full of curiosity and fear. Elliott and E.T. She was feeding off my fear. I needed to calm down.

  Slowly, reluctantly, I put one foot in front of the other and let Sam lead me out the soot-encrusted door and into the bright, clear, frozen night. For once in the past several weeks, we were not being battered relentlessly with icy rain and malicious winds from the northwest. There was nary a breath of wind. The sky shone full of stars overheard. Well, as full as the inner city and all its lights would allow. It was going to freeze hard tonight. The scent of snow was in the air, but the beauty and purity of it was masked by the smell of fire and smoke that had branded itself into my skin, my nostrils, my clothes. I coughed, then gagged as I clutched Carly to my chest and followed Sam up the path at the side of the house to the driveway.

  “Where’s your car?” I asked, surprised at how normal and calm my voice sounded.

  He released my hand when we reached the door to the garage. “The driveway is pretty steep and slick. I was worried it would freeze and didn’t want to slip. Plus, I didn’t want to wake any kids, if those are their bedrooms right there.” He pointed to the two big bow windows that hung over the garage. They weren’t the kids’ rooms. It was Quinn’s room and the playroom, but I appreciated his thoughtfulness.

  The big electric garage door started to rise with a mechanical grind, and we were soon met with Quinn loading the kids up into the back of her Lexus SUV. My car was next to hers, as Rick had his and I didn’t want to have to scrape my windshield if there was a nice warm spot available inside the house.

  I went to her. She clipped Emmet into his seat, shut the door and looked at me. Her face said it all. Then she lunged into my arms, gripping me tight. Her body quivered with each sob. I still had Carly on my hip, but seconds later she was removed as Sam took her and got her into her car seat.

  I stroked the back of my sister’s head. Her curls were still damp from the shower, and she smelled like her favorite peony and almond body wash. “It’s okay,” I cooed. “It’ll be okay.”

  She sniffed as she pulled away, her brown eyes red-rimmed and puffy while her classically beautiful face was pale. I tucked a stray chestnut curl behind her ear.

  “It’ll be okay. We’ll go to Sam’s. You can call Rick, we’ll call the police, and we’ll sort it all out.”

  She sniffed again and wiped the back of her wrist below her nose. Her bottom lip quivered as her eyes darted around the organized double-car garage. “My home.”

  The sound of sirens off in the distance filled the air.

  I gently turned her around and walked her to the driver’s side of her Lexus. “Your home will be fine. The kids are safe. You’re safe. We’re safe. That’s what matters.” />
  She nodded, but it seemed as though she was doing it more on autopilot than anything else. I opened up her car door and she slumped inside.

  “You have the address?” I asked.

  She nodded again.

  “Just wait and follow me.” Even though she had the address, a part of me didn’t think she could find it right now. I imagined my sister driving aimlessly through the streets of Vancouver, her children asleep in the car as she worried and panicked over her home in ashes.

  She nodded once more before closing the door.

  I met Sam at the door of my SUV just as bright red, blue and white lights flashed and a cop car pulled up the driveway, followed moments later by a big red fire truck on the road.

  Without even batting an eye, he flipped me his keys, quickly got Carly out of her car seat and passed her back off to me. Two car doors slammed, and big dark figures ambled toward us. Firefighters began clambering out of the big engine, and a hose was quickly unfurled from the side of the truck.

  “Take my car. I’ll deal with the cops and fire department and meet you guys at the house in a bit. I’ve already texted my dad. He knows you’re coming.”

  “Sam?” A big behemoth of a man in full gear asked, approaching us in the garage.

  “Ben. Hey,” Sam greeted. The two shook hands, and Sam quickly gave Ben the skinny on what had happened. Other firefighters were heading into the house behind us.

  “Shit,” Ben finally said. “Okay, well, let me do a quick check up on the kids and women first. Make sure everyone is okay and doesn’t need to head to the hospital. If there’s been any major smoke inhalation they may need oxygen.”

  Quinn had already started her car, the taillights of her Lexus competing for brilliance with the lights of the police cruiser. But after I opened the passenger door and told her what Sam had said she turned off the ignition and erupted into more tears.