The Complete Firehouse 56 Series

by Chase Jackson

  I sighed, leaning forward on the basin of the sink. The kitchen was a complete mess.

  So much for surprising Brady with a home cooked meal, I thought darkly.

  My mom had been the one who suggested that I sneak into Brady’s house while he was at work, and prepare a nice dinner for him to come home to. Ok, she hadn’t told me to sneak in… she had assumed that, as Brady’s fiancée, I would have my own key to Casa Hudson.

  I didn’t have a key, but I did remember that the Hudson’s always kept a spare under their welcome mat. So, I proceeded with the plan. I browsed Pinterest and selected the perfect romantic recipe for two -- stuffed chicken breasts, white wine sauce, and a side of steamed spinach -- then I went to the grocery store and stocked up on supplies, operating on the assumption that Brady’s kitchen would be reasonably stocked with the essentials.

  Then, with a paper grocery bag on each hip, I had trudged across the yard to the Hudson’s house.

  Sure enough, the key was right where I expected it to be under the rug. Unfortunately, that was the last thing that had gone according to plan; after letting myself into the house and setting up in the kitchen, things had gone from bad to worse.

  First, I couldn’t find anything to flatten the chicken breasts I had bought. Then I over-boiled the spinach, causing it to wilt. Next, I realized that I had forgotten to turn on the oven before sliding in the chicken -- meaning they had been sat in a cold oven for thirty minutes. And finally, there was the white wine sauce.

  I had stood over the gas range, whisking the watery mixture dutifully as it simmered over the blue flames of the stove. But try as I might, I couldn’t get the damn sauce to thicken. I was in the process of moving the skillet to another burner on the stove, when I had burned my fingers on the handle.

  Yep, I thought grimly as I watched the water stream down on my burnt finger. This is a full-blown disaster.

  I was trying to decide whether I should try to salvage the meal or pack everything up and order a pizza, when I heard a sound that made my heart drop: the front door opening.

  I spun around just in time to see Brady stride into the kitchen.

  “Cass!” he jerked back when he saw me, looking shocked. “What are you doing here?”

  “Surprise!” I said weakly. “I made you dinner!”

  “Cass, that’s so…” he started to say, but then he froze. “Is something burning?”

  My eyes shot to the stove, and I saw bright orange flames devouring the dish towel that I had left behind.

  “Oh, shit!” I cried, running towards the stove. The towel must have fallen onto the gas burner when I dropped the skillet!

  “Let me,” Brady insisted, pushing past me. In one swift movement he expertly lifted the burning towel and flicked it into the sink.

  The flames instantly extinguished, but there was little that could be done to repair the damage to my ego. My shoulders slumped down and I felt my eyes burn with hot, embarrassed tears.

  “Crisis averted--” Brady said playfully, then he saw my face. “Cass! Are you crying?”

  “No,” I choked out as a fat tear rolled down my cheek.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filling with concern as he pulled me towards his chest and wrapped his thick arms around my shoulders.

  Oh, nothing… I’ve just made a total and complete fool out of myself, and nearly burned down your kitchen in the process… I wanted to say, but instead I shook my head and buried my face in his firm chest.

  “I can’t believe you did all of this for me,” Brady said gently, holding me tight. It was impossible to stay upset with his arms wrapped around me; all of my embarrassment started to melt away, replaced with a flock of butterflies that fluttered through my stomach and tingled through my skin.

  “I mean that,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “I can’t remember the last time someone made me a home-cooked meal in this kitchen.”

  “Well I’m not sure you’ll enjoy this one,” I said, glancing meekly at the stove.

  “That’s ok,” Brady whispered. His hands were already snaking down my waist and gripping onto my hips. “I kinda have an appetite for something else, anyway…”

  Then, without warning, he hoisted me over his shoulder.

  “Brady!” I squealed. He kept a tight grip around my legs as he marched through the kitchen, then climbed up the stairs two at a time. I knew where he was taking me, and the rush of excitement was enough to make me forget all about that damn white wine sauce and wilted spinach that we had left behind in the kitchen…

  He carried me all the way to the bedroom, then he tossed me down on the bed and towered over me.

  “Brady Hudson,” I scolded playfully, “You know better than to eat dessert before dinner…”

  “I want you for dinner and dessert,” he growled, tugging off my camisole and devouring my bare chest.

  He kissed his way across my chest, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses as he worked his way between my two breasts, then down my stomach.

  When he got to my hips, he sat up and tugged the waist of my denim cut-offs. My shorts slipped down easily, revealing my fire-engine red thong. I had worn the lace panties with the hope that Brady would strip them off, and the devilish smirk on his face confirmed that he was happy to make my fantasy a reality.

  He bent down, running his tongue along my sticky wet mound through the thin red lace. I moaned; one lick was enough to make my heart race from 0 to 60.

  Brady sat up on his knees and started peeling back my thong, but I stopped him.

  “What are you going to feed me for dinner?” I asked softly. I wasn’t used to being so bold -- especially in the bedroom -- but being with Brady brought out another side of me; a confident, crazy, wild side…

  “What are you hungry for?” Brady asked, raising an eyebrow.

  I answered with my eyes, lowering my gaze down to the thick bulge that protruded from his pants.

  “That’s a lot of meat,” he warned me playfully. “Are you sure you handle it?”

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I rolled forward onto all fours and crawled towards him. I undid the zipper of his jeans and his fat cock immediately sprang free.

  “I had to change at work,” he admitted sheepishly. “My clothes got soaked, and I didn’t have any dry briefs…”

  “I haven’t been able to keep a pair of panties dry lately, either,” I teased. Then I wrapped my hand around his thick shaft.

  He was too thick for me to wrap my fingers entirely around his girth, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining as I stroked my hand up and down.

  A milky pearl dripped from his tip, and I bent down to lap it up with my tongue. His body seized, and he grunted, gripping onto my hair. I teased him some more, flicking his opening with the tip of my tongue, then following the pink ridged skin all the way to the underside of his head.

  “Your tongue feels amazing,” he muttered.

  I ran my tongue over my lips, then I gripped onto the base of his shaft and brought him into my mouth.

  He flinched as I squeezed all of his head into my mouth and clamped down with my lips, holding him snug over my tongue. Then I started to slide down slowly.

  “Oh, fuck,” he muttered under his breath, panting as I sunk down lower and lower.

  I had only gotten a few inches down when I felt his cock strike the back of my throat, triggering my gag reflex. I resisted the instinct to choke, then I kept going.

  He dug his hands through my hair and tugged. I felt my own excitement building as I took more and more of him in; my pussy was burning for a turn to take all of him in.

  I felt his length fill my throat as I slid my lips all the way to the base of his shaft, and I moved my hand away to take in the last couple of inches.

  Once I had tasted all of him, I moved back to his head and made a few quick, shallow thrusts. I could feel a quiver in his thighs, and his balls were starting to clench up. He was close...

  “Cassidy,” he hissed, gripp
ing onto the handful of hair that he clenched between his fingers, “I need you to sit on my cock right now.”

  I reluctantly released him from my lips. He fell back onto the pillows and reached for a condom while I stripped off my panties and flung them towards the floor. Then he gripped my hips and guided me to straddle him.

  I positioned myself over his bare cock and he gripped his shaft. He pressed his head through my lips and teased my clit with his head, flicking up and down. Each flick sent a wave of pleasure through my body.

  When neither of us could take the teasing anymore, he slipped on the condom and grabbed hold of my hips, then he pulled me down.

  His cock spread my folds apart and forged a path through my tight walls. I rolled my hips back, controlling the angle so that it was all pleasure and no pain.

  As I thrust up and down, he planted his hand over my pelvis and used his thumb to work my clitoris.

  “Brady, I-- I--” before I could finish that sentence, it was all over: my body was dissolving into a million tiny fragments of euphoria, and it took everything I had to keep riding his cock.

  When the room finally stopped spinning, I realized that he had pushed me onto my back and hoisted my legs up around his waist.

  “That was only round one,” he grinned down at me. “You’ve gotta come two more times if you want dessert…”

  “What’s dessert?” I breathed weakly. I couldn’t imagine anything beating the orgasm I had just experienced.

  “There’s only one way to find out…” he winked.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN | BRADY

  After several rounds of sucking, touching, squeezing, and fucking, Cassidy and I had both collapsed under the covers, utterly exhausted and depleted. She had curled up at my side and we had both fallen asleep almost instantly.

  And several hours later, when the sun popped up in the sky and the morning alarm beeped from my cell phone on the nightstand, I woke up to find us both in the same position that we had been in when we fell asleep: naked and tangled together.

  I didn’t want to leave that spot, but I had to go to work. I reluctantly slipped out of the bed, moving slowly so that I wouldn’t disturb her.

  She sighed heavily in her sleep, clenching onto a pillow to replace my chest. I watched her sleep, admiring how beautiful she looked. Her breathing was a soft hum, and her face looked peaceful and content.

  For a split second, everything felt perfect. Then she cracked open her eyes.

  “Hey,” she murmured groggily as she blinked up at me. “You’re watching me sleep?”

  “Maybe,” I grinned.

  “Creep.”

  “I can’t help myself,” I shrugged. “You look so beautiful.”

  She rolled her eyes as she stretched out her limbs, treating my eyes to a display as she pushed away the sheets.

  “That’s the best sleep I’ve had in ages,” she purred, coiling back up around the pillow.

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “Maybe I should get out of my parents’ house more often. When I try to sleep there, all I can think about is cancer and chemo and… other unpleasant realities.”

  Unpleasant realities. My heart sagged in my chest as I remembered Josh’s angry tirade from last night.

  “But not with you,” she said. “With you… I feel like I can just be free, and be myself.”

  I knew she meant it in a good way, but somehow the kind words just worsened the heaviness that I felt.

  “Hey,” she said softly, placing a soft hand on my thigh. “You make me really happy, you know that?”

  “I’m glad,” I smiled weakly. Then I sighed and stood up from the bed. “But I’ve gotta go to work now. You should get some more sleep.”

  “I should get up, too…” she sighed. “My mom and I are visiting the wedding venue later today.”

  “Sounds fun,” I said. She just rolled her eyes.

  “What’s the venue?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she winked. Then she rolled around in sheets and asked playfully: “What if I’m still right here in this bed when you get home tonight?”

  “Ahh… I’ve gotta work late tonight,” I said. “I’d hate to keep you waiting…”

  “Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. Then she shrugged. “Ok, well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow? Or…”

  “Yeah,” I nodded dismissively. I pulled a fresh pair of briefs from my dresser and slipped them on, then I pulled up my discarded jeans from last night. “Something like that.”

  Her frown deepened, but she didn’t say anything.

  I leaned down on the bed and planted a kiss on her forehead.

  “Catch ya later, Ladybug,” I said softly.

  The full force of guilt and confusion didn’t hit me until I’d made it down the stairs and out to my truck. By the time I turned the key in the ignition, my mind had gone to work juxtaposing everything that happened this morning with everything my brother had warned me about last night.

  She said I make her happy… she said this is the best sleep she’s had in who knows how long… I rubbed my throbbing temple as I drove down the neighborhood street towards Firehouse 56.

  What am I doing?! I asked myself. What if Josh is right? What if we’re both just caught up in this lie we’ve created… what if I can’t be the man she’s looking for? What happens if this all blows up in our faces? What happens if I break her heart?

  The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Cassidy. But I also couldn’t stand the thought of losing her.

  I slammed my fist onto the steering wheel, trying to distract myself from all of the thoughts that were racing through my head.

  For years, I had avoided commitment like the plague. I would abandon ship at the first sign of settling down: leave a toothbrush at my place? I’d stop returning your calls. Leave a tampon in my truck? I’d stop texting back. Ask me to meet your parents? I’d ghost like Patrick Swayze.

  Cassidy was the first woman who hadn’t triggered my flight instinct. Being with her felt good… and the thought of having a future made me feel excited, instead of scared.

  So why did that all change because of what my stupid brother said? Why had all of those fears and reservations come sneaking back so suddenly? What was I suddenly so afraid of?

  Cassidy had made me so happy… and I knew that I made her happy, too. So why was I wondering if this was all one big fat mistake?

  My mind was still doing circles when I pulled up to Firehouse 56 and parked my truck behind the station.

  The crackle of bacon frying greeted me when I stepped into the firehouse, and I found the guys cooking up a breakfast in the kitchen.

  “Brady!” Bryce cheered, slapping my back as I walked into the room. “It’s the man of the hour!”

  “What are you talking about?” I groaned. “Did someone write another story about me in the newspaper again?”

  “You wish,” Duke scoffed.

  “Actually,” Logan said, “We were just putting our heads together and planning your bachelor party!”

  “Guys, that’s…” I groaned again, “You don’t have to…”

  “I tried to talk ‘em out of it,” Josh said flatly, glaring up at me from the stove, where he was stirring a skillet full of scrambled eggs with a spatula. “But they insisted.”

  “Of course we insisted!” Troy said, ruffling my hair. “It’s not everyday that one of our own cuts off his own balls and submits himself to a life of torment and monotony.”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘monogamy,’” Logan corrected him.

  “Same thing,” Troy shrugged. “Either way, we need to send you off with a bang.”

  “Well I appreciate the effort, but I really don’t want to make this into a big deal…”

  “Why not?” Josh narrowed his eyes at me. He was still seething from last night. “You only get married once… right, brother?”

  I returned his glare as I reached
for a piece of bacon and popped it into my mouth.

  “Anyway, January,” Duke was saying. “You really shouldn’t be a selfish little bitch about this. This is the first wedding we all get to celebrate, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that we want to do things the old-fashioned way: lots of booze, lots of strippers, and a weekend of antics that are sworn to secrecy. So, don’t ruin this for the rest of us by making it all about you.”

  “Jesus, Duke,” I rolled my eyes. “You really need to get out more.”

  “Relax,” Bryce said, cupping his hands over my shoulders. “Duke isn’t on the party planning committee.”

  “There’s a party planning committee for this thing?”

  “Just a few of us,” Bryce shrugged. Then he leaned in and hissed: “Ok, it’s literally everyone but Duke. But don’t tell him that…”

  I shook my head.

  “Well whatever you’re planning,” I said, “Keep it low-key. I really don’t want this to turn into something--”

  “Ok, I just found flights to Vegas for $100 bucks a head,” Logan announced, flicking his eyes up from the screen of his iPad.

  “No way,” I shook my head. “We’re not going to fucking Vegas.”

  “That’s not up to you,” Troy reminded me. Then he waved his finger around the kitchen and said: “That’s up to the party planning committee.”

  “I can’t do Vegas,” Bryce said meekly. “Who would watch my daughter?”

  “Hire a fucking babysitter,” Duke shook his head in annoyance.

  “Vegas is off the table,” I said firmly. “And so is anything else beyond the tri-state area. We’re not flying anywhere.”

  “Someone get rid of January,” Duke said, pushing me towards the door of the kitchen. “Before he tries to sign us up for a sober weekend of furniture building and Bible reading at some Amish compound in Pennsylvania…”

  “Actually, that might not be such a bad idea. I’ve always wanted to learn how to make furniture…” Bryce said thoughtfully. That was the last thing I heard before I was banished from the kitchen, with the door slammed in my face.