Chiseled - A Standalone Romance (A Super Sexy Western Romance)

by Naomi Niles

  I nodded. There was a lot of logic in what he was saying. “That’s a good thought,” I commented.

  Just then, another truck of guys from a different district pulled up.

  “Oh, looks like we’re going to have to put your training off to another day. These guys really need it; they’re in the trenches. So, why don’t you knock off for now, maybe go home and take a hot bath, swallow a couple aspirin?”

  My eyes opened wide. How did he know that’s what I wanted? Had I somehow said it aloud? It didn’t matter. I was grateful for his understanding and nodded my head, giving him a thumbs-up.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said, his voice a little brotherly. I was going to have to change that.

  Chapter 7

  I stopped by the office the next morning on my way to the firehouse. John was in his office, already munching furiously on the stogie he held so dearly. I leaned my head inside his doorway, tapping on the door as I opened it.

  “Have you got a minute?”

  “That depends. Are you going to waste it?”

  I was dressed in sweats. Not very glamorous, but necessary when you’re in fireman training. I could see him look me over and wonder why I was dressed that way. “I hope not, but of course that depends on you. I’d like to tell you what I’ve been cooking up and see what your thoughts are on it.”

  “Okay, go ahead.” He pointed to the chair opposite his desk. “I’ll give you ten minutes to waste.”

  “Yes, sir. So, as I think you already know, my dad is District 13 Fire Chief. He’s going to let me tag along on some runs and I want to do a series that spotlights the victims. Lots of human interest. You know, kids who will have no toys for Christmas, they had no insurance, and now have nowhere to go, you get the whole picture. In order for him to allow me to do this, I have to go through some basic fireman training. My job is going to be to stand on the perimeter and hold back onlookers. He’s going to make me earn my keep.”

  “Go on,” John motioned me to continue.

  “Okay, so, you know how the city feels about its firefighters. They’re one step short of being God. I can’t help but think that by dedicating a section of our paper to the firefighters on a regular basis, that it will bring in some more subscriptions and certainly some advertising. No one can say no to a New York City firefighter. Not since 9/11.”

  “Well, I can see you’re not above making the most out of a situation. Aren’t you a little embarrassed?”

  “No, not at all. You might be missing the point. To be a New York City firefighter is an honor. It’s something that guys strive for, train for, study for. For example, when I leave here, I’m headed toward the tower over on the North Shore. I have to run twenty stories of metal stairs and then back down, without puking. Even at my age, that’s not going to be an easy task. These guys have to do this kind of thing regularly. So my angle on this is that the men who become firefighters are the best of the best. They’re not only intelligent, and in magnificent condition, but they have to be smart enough to think in the middle of an emergency when their life may be on the line. Our city fire departments need more of these kind of men. So, from the fire department standpoint, this is sort of a recruiting effort. From our standpoint, it will sell papers and ads. It will put a spotlight on some of the unfortunate who suffer from fires, and it will celebrate the excellence of the firefighting profession. This might even become a fundraiser to help some of those who have suffered from house fires. I really think it’s a win-win all the way around and I think it would be great attention-grabber for the paper. It would really set you apart from the competition. As you know, they really are all about making money. You, on the other hand, will be known for integrity. I think you told me that was something that used to exist in your profession, and you seldom have a chance to embrace that again.”

  “Well, little lady. You have been doing some thinking. I have to say I’m just a little bit impressed. Of course the whole thing is nothing if you don’t do a good job of it. Do you think you can handle it?”

  “Believe me, my Dad will see to it. He’s put me under the care of his newest hire. This guy is like a Marine drill sergeant and every bone in my body already aches. If I stick with this, I’ll earn the respect that I need to get access to all the components that can build this picture. In fact, you might even say that I’m in a very unique position. Not many reporters out there have a dad who is a fire captain.”

  “You do have a point. It would be a shame to waste such a valuable contact. So, what you need from me?” I heard the not so subtle tint of sarcasm in his tone.

  “Not too much, really. First, I need your permission to do this because obviously it’s going to take some time away from my actual writing. After all, I have to train for this. I have to do that in the daytime when the training facilities are available. Second, of course I need you to continue to pay me, even though I won’t be in the office every day as you seem to want me to be. Next, I need some sort of reassurance that this is not going to be in vain. After all, I’m not in this business to earn money; I’m in this business to report and to write. I want to be that person that someday you’ll say, ‘I knew her when.’ That’s just about all there is to it. What do you say?”

  John looked me over, as though judging whether I was really going to deliver. I suppose I understood why he had some doubts; I wasn’t exactly firefighter material and unless I was on the scene, the whole thing wouldn’t be delivered. On the other hand, I felt I was a good example of integrity and I wanted a chance to prove myself. I also knew that he was drawing out the suspense simply because it gave him a few more moments of power. I let him have it. I sat quietly and put an anxious look on my face. This was pretty much the same way I had to treat Dad.

  “Okay, kid. You got your chance. Don’t blow it. Keep in touch at least once a day with Martha by phone. Don’t disappear on me. And don’t let anyone else know what you’re up to. We don’t want someone jumping on the bandwagon and cutting in line.”

  I smiled broadly and winked. “I could just about kiss you right now.”

  He frowned, but blushed at the same time. I imagined it’d been quite a while since a young lady had kissed him. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance despite your magnetism and extreme generosity.”

  “Oh, bullshit. Get on outta here!” John motioned me out and shouted at me to shut the door behind myself.

  Martha watched me walk across the empty room. “Well, if you don’t look like the cat that just caught the canary.”

  “Good to see you, too, Martha. Actually, John just listened to a proposal and took me up on it. You’re looking at New York City’s newest, soon-to-be, female firefighter.”

  “I thought you worked here at the paper?” She was looking at me over the top of her glasses. That meant she really didn’t expect a response, but I would give her one anyway.

  “I’m a reporter first, and a firefighter second. I’m going to build a whole section of our newspaper dedicated to the firefighters of New York City. You can ask John for the details. I’m sure he will remember it much differently than I explained to him, but the gist of it is that I won’t be reporting here into the office each day. I will, however, be giving you a phone call. So you can keep track of me.”

  Martha nodded in approval. “It shouldn’t take you long to figure out how to wrap him around your finger.” She looked back down to her desk, calmly rifling through some old papers in a gesture of dismissal. I took the hint and left.

  * * *

  Sean was waiting for me at the tower. He was standing between me and the low light of early winter, a very masculine and attractive silhouette. I felt that familiar warmth low in my belly and I knew that I wanted him. I wasn’t sure if he understood that. Yes, he had kissed me, but had he meant the same thing with that kiss that I wanted him to mean? I could see that I was in that sticky part of wanting a relationship and not knowing how to get it started. There were no rules in this adult world. I couldn’t ask a boy to t
he dance or over to the house to watch videos. He was no boy; he was a man, and I certainly wanted more than videos.

  “I’m glad you finally decided to grace me with your presence,” was his sarcastic welcome.

  “Sorry about that, boss. I had to run by the newspaper for a few minutes, and you know the traffic around here.”

  “Yes, I have had a little experience with that.”

  “So, what kind of torture do you have in mind for me today?” I was admiring that dimple in his chin. Evidently he was doing a little admiring of his own.

  “Well, at least this time you came dressed for the job.” His words were sarcastic but his attitude was very appreciative. Damn, there was that warmth in my belly again. I wanted to be in bed with the man. How do I get from dirty sweat suit to bed partner? “Go over there to that slab of concrete and give me fifty push-ups.”

  I turned my back first and started toward the slab, but then I did my share of grumbling.

  “Were you saying something?” he called to me, knowing very well I was muttering beneath my breath.

  “Oh, no, not saying a word. I’m here to serve.” My voice hinged on being mocking and yet my words were respectful. I was setting him up. If he didn’t like me, he could choose to make my life miserable. If he did like me, he would leave me with a little bit of energy for later. On the other hand, if he really, really liked me, he would work the piss out of me so that I would be safer at the side of the fire.

  I slammed out the push-ups, although I did the girls’ version; I was allowed. He pointed at the tower and I knew the time had come once again. I took a deep breath, pushed my shoulders back, and trotted toward that maze of steps. I tried to make something pleasurable out of it by looking out over the waves the higher I got. I could see a fishing trawler just this side of the horizon. It was almost sort of romantic.

  We finished my workout and Shawn gave me two thumbs up. “Okay, that’s enough for right now. The next part of your training will take place at a firehouse. I don’t mean your dad’s firehouse, either.”

  I looked at him with some surprise. “You mean we’re going home?” It had never occurred to me the potency of those words. I had just referred to the place we lived in as our home. It had a nice ring to it, I had to admit.

  He nodded. “See you there,” he tossed at me as he was climbing into his car.

  As we let ourselves into my building, John turned around and put his hands on his hips. “I have to tell you, I’m fairly impressed with you. There’s not many girls who can keep up with me, and while you still got some muscles to build, at least you’re fit enough for your job. Why don’t you run on up and take a shower and then come back down here for the next part of your training?”

  I looked at him quizzically, but he wasn’t about to divulge what that consisted of. I trotted up the steps and went into my apartment, showering quickly and putting on fresh clothes. I even took a few minutes and touched up my makeup and brushed my hair. I had to admit, I felt much better. As an afterthought, I squirted a bit of perfume on my neck. It felt good to be a woman again.

  Sean was waiting for me when I went downstairs. I hadn’t noticed, but he had made a couple subtle improvements. He had managed to rustle up some kind of curtain, which separated his bed from the rest of the big, open space. I didn’t blame him; he needed some privacy. He also picked up a used area rug, something to keep his feet warm in the cold of winter. Again, I was touched by his attempts at frugal home decorating. “Looks nice,” I told him, pointing at the furnishings.

  “You see that rug?” I nodded. “Lay down on it, face up.”

  I shrugged, sat on the rug and laid back. I just knew there were another hundred sit-ups in store for me. I watched him coming toward me, wondering what was up next. He knelt next to me. “This is the part where I teach you how to breathe life back into someone. Have you ever done CPR or artificial resuscitation?”

  I know my eyes were huge. The blue eyes were within fourteen inches of my face. I shook my head in the negative. “No, never.”

  “Okay, here’s your first lesson. We’ll begin with artificial resuscitation. Now we are going to imagine that you are unconscious. You might have begun to drown, perhaps you were hit by a live powerline, maybe you got smoke into your lungs through the fire—there’s any number of reasons. The main objective here is to get you breathing on your own. The way the rescuer would do that is to first check your airway for any obstructions. Open your mouth and let me look.”

  I was trying to catch my breath, although it was not due to any of the listed reasons. This was simply because those blue eyes were getting closer to mine. Obligingly, I opened my mouth and watched him as he lowered his closer to me.

  “You see, I’m looking to see if you have anything blocking your airway.” He reached in with one finger and touched the inside of my cheeks. He was not at all hurried; if anything, it was slow and delicate. I felt that warmth in my tummy again and I was pretty sure he could hear my heart hammering. “No, your airways seem to be doing just fine,” he smiled. “Now this is the part where the objective is for me to push deep breaths into your lungs. So, the first thing I’m going to do is inhale and then I’m going to pinch your nose so that when I blow into your mouth, the oxygen doesn’t channel right back through your nostrils. Are you okay with that?”

  What could I do but nod? I opened my mouth, preparing. His face came closer then and I felt his fingers pressing my nostrils closed. He drew in a deep breath, the kind that expands a man’s chest. His mouth lowered again to mine, reminiscent of the kiss he had given me before. He blew into my mouth and I closed my eyes an absolute delicious saturation. He lifted his head then.

  “I’m going to do a little bit of lung compression now. I’ll need plenty of room to maneuver, so I hope you won’t mind when I open a button on your blouse?”

  I shook my head no. Only an insane person would turn him down. His fingers lowered so slowly to the top button on my shirt. The buttons were small and he fumbled a bit, but his dexterity sent waves of passionate desire through my womanhood. I closed my eyes, imagining those fingers opening a more intimate part of my body. I shuddered with the erotic delight of my vision.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No, I’m not.” I shook my head and kept my mouth shut, although I tried to smile a bit.

  “Unconscious people don’t smile,” he cautioned me, and I nodded in agreement.

  His finger trailed down two inches to the next button. I could feel his skin through the fabric of my blouse and then inhaled quickly as he opened that button as well. He laid back the flaps of my blouse and his fingertips traced the skin from the hollow in my throat downward. Apparently, he still wasn’t satisfied and so he opened yet another button, and then again one more. There was only one more button left and I heard the resignation of his sigh as he opened it as well. He parted my blouse entirely and his lips lowered and kissed my chest, running his tongue down the cleavage of my breasts. There was a low moan coming from the back of his throat, and with one, swift movement of his hand, he lifted me enough to unsnap my bra and threw it across the room.

  Then I laid semi-naked beneath him. He moved upright, looking at me in possessive, passionate absorption. His hands reached for my breasts and he cupped them on either side, bending to take my erect nipple into his mouth. I laid there in absolute erotic pleasure and had no intention of stopping him.

  I reached for him, attempting to unbutton his shirt. I had this compelling desire to feel his skin against mine. He was almost unwilling to let go of my breasts, continuing to lick and suck upon them. I kept at the buttons and finally, with a sigh of resignation, he pulled his shirt completely off, sliding it over his head. He moved down upon me and now we lay man against woman, skin against skin. He wrapped his arms around me and rolled to his back, pulling me atop him. His hands trailed down the soft skin of my back into the small of my back, just above my bottom. Long strokes with his fingers were possessive and entirely welcomed.
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  At one point, he lifted me, spinning me around so that my back lay upon his chest. His hands reached around me and cupped my breasts, stroking them until my nipples felt as though they would burst. At the same time, his lips smoothed my back from the shoulder blades downward. He manipulated me as though I were nothing more than a doll. That was when his hands began to trail lower.

  Stroking my breast with one hand, the other lowered itself and his fingers crept below the waistband of my pants. With one hand, he adeptly unsnapped and unzipped my pants and I could feel them sliding down my hips. I’m not really sure how it happened, but it wasn’t very long after that before I lay atop him completely and utterly naked, my legs spread, leaving me open to the world. His roving hand continued downward, parting the petals of my womanhood. His index finger slid inside of me, stroking my clit with a round, soft motion that caused me to swell and grow. His hand took possession of me, relentless in its stroking. I could feel the heat begin to grow and I was breathing faster and faster. He moved me so that my hips were raised and I was almost sitting upon his hand, two fingers inserted inside me. He lifted his hips so that I rode those fingers. It was the most exquisite sensation I had ever experienced. As I rode his hand, the other hand stroked the length of my bare back and his finger quested down between the crack of my bottom. He inserted a finger there at the same time, and pressed inward; the result being that my entire pussy was clamped around his strong hands. I was breathing so rapidly, I think I began to hyperventilate. I was dizzy and I wanted more. Then came that sweet pain of orgasm. It began in his fingers, as though he were some sort of Greek God who had just given me life. The electricity shot through my limbs and up into my chest. I began to quiver and drove harder downward onto his hand. I believe I may have even screamed, although I was lost in a world that was far, far away from that old fire station. That’s when the spasms blew me apart. He held me like that, not moving his fingers so that the tender places could pulse against him and get their relief.