by Teagan Kade
I’m close to orgasm again, my hips rising and falling and his fat cock moving to match.
As usual, my cheeks flush with shame at the realization of how much I’m enjoying this. I’ve moved past the point of no return. All I want is to come.
He places his head on my shoulder, his cock finding a new angle inside me, eliciting new and alien sounds from my slack mouth. “Do you like this?” he asks, breathless. “Do you like my cock in your ass?”
“Yes,” I reply, breathless.
“You want me to let you come?”
“Yes,” becomes my mantra. “Yes. I want to come.”
He’s fucking me harder now, pounding hard into my ass and with every stroke, he’s driving us closer and closer to the edge.
He draws all the way out before plunging further, using his thumb to hold me open and gain more ground, never quite getting deep enough.
I cry out and dig into the quilt with my nails, caught there as my core twists and pulls together tight. We’re completely in sync, completely one.
I can’t hold it off any longer.
I find the words. “I’m going to—”
It’s right at that point Dane stiffens and holds himself inside me, his cock pulsing deep in my ass. We come together, my release so hard that infinite darkness becomes light behind my eyelids, a trail of heated sensation everywhere at once.
Spent, Dane collapses to the side. I go with him.
We lie hand in hand in the afterglow, that tenderness I’ve come to know so well radiating throughout me.
Dane hits the switch to the blinds, the vista revealed as they open.
The moon, bright ahead, has lit up a single path down the center of the ocean. You can hear it from here, the shift and crash of the swell below, the sound mirroring my own, torrid release.
*
Dane comes through the door of the house first, placing down the suitcases he’s carrying and surveying the space. “Home, sweet home.”
The kids dash in around us, dragging their own bags upstairs to their rooms stuffed with toys and candy. We’ll be lucky to see them again until tomorrow.
We’re back in Merit, back to the simple life—as simple as it can be with three small kids.
Once we’ve taken our suitcases upstairs, the kids busy unpacking, I join Dane for a much-needed coffee downstairs. He turns the old wireless radio on the kitchen counter on, just like Dad used to when I was a kid. It’s funny, but Dane’s become quite a fan of the local radio station and its eccentric, country ways.
“…closed for up to a week, maybe more,” comes through the speaker.
We share a look, Dane reaching over to increase the volume. “It’s Jerry,” he says, recognizing the voice.
“The weather boys are telling me this storm’s going to be a real shocker,” continues the Sherriff. “Once that ice comes I can’t imagine anyone’s going to be coming into, or leaving, town anytime soon.”
I look out the window. It is getting cold out there. “Did you know anything about this?” I ask Dane.
“First I’ve heard of it,” he shrugs.
“That’s right,” says the Sheriff, responding to a question. “Buckle down, folks, and break out the Monopoly board. Looks like everyone’s going to be stuck indoors for a few days.”
Dane places down his coffee and takes me around the waist, pulling me into his hard body, his face lit with excitement. “You heard the man. We’re going to be stuck inside for a while… days even.”
I place my hand on his chest, still can’t figure out how I got so lucky. “However will we pass the time?”
Blaze
Teagan Kade
* * * * *
Published by Teagan Kade
Edited by Sennah Tate
Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Kade
COPYRIGHT
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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DEDICATION
For Kit. You’re still the king of my north.
CHAPTER ONE
LACEY
Judging by the décor and general lack of warmth, I don’t know if this is an esteemed fire academy or a state penitentiary.
A guy, quite naked, goes running past us down the hall.
Make that a zoo.
Captain Jennings shakes his head beside me. “First week and the Kool-Aid’s out already. A lot of these guys think this is some sort of frat-house freak show, but come tomorrow morning they’re going to find out it’s anything but.” He stops by a door. “Here we are.”
I note the number on it is sixty-nine.
Figures.
The Captain slides a key into the lock and opens the door, ushering me through. The room is small, utilitarian, but given what I grew up in it may as well be the Taj Mahal.
“So, what do you think?” asks the Captain, framed by the doorway.
“It’s great. Thank you,” I smile back.
The Captain leans against the doorway playing with a loose thread on the brim of his Pemberton Fire Academy Instructor cap. “I have to apologize again about the arrangements. We had a room on the other side of campus all prepped, but this year’s intake was bigger than expected.”
I pull the curtains open and look out the window. “It’s fine, really.”
“I know you’re stuck in Testosterone Land here,” continues the Captain, “but there’s a female bathroom down the hall that’s all yours—ten or more showers you can take your pick of. Besides, any of these assholes give you trouble, you just come knocking on my door, okay?”
“Yes, Captain,” I reply. “I grew up in a town where males outnumbered females three to one. I think I’ll be okay.”
He flicks the brim of his cap. “That’s the spirit. Do you need a hand bringing your things down?”
“No, sir.”
He hands me the key. “Alright then, Miss Nelson. Welcome to the Hot House.”
He nods and leaves.
I close the door and take a seat on the bed, the excitement of others echoing down the hallway.
I breathe in. I breathe out.
You sure about this, Lacey?
Now I’m here, I’m not so sure.
I take out my cell, my finger hovering over the screen. It would only take one call.
No. Not today.
I slide the cell back into my pocket and stand, heading back out into the hallway, and bang smack into…
Penis.
Like, a lot of penis. I’m talking the Empire State of shlongs, the Pecker King. There’s no other way to describe it.
Penis Dude stands there with his hands on his hips, looking down where I’ve just collided with his appendage-slash-trouser snake, and he’s grinning. His smug, chiselled, surprisingly perfect features are actually grinning at me.
I literally leap back in shock.
He continues to stand there in his birthday suit like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like I should get onto my knees and worship his Adonis-like perfection.
I punch him in the chest instead.
I have no idea why I do this. It’s simply a reflex.
There�
��s only one problem: he’s got a brick wall for a body.
It’s like I’ve tickled him with a feather, his smirk widening.
He looks down at his eight-pack and lifts his head, honey-amber eyes aflame. “If you wanted to touch, all you had to do was ask.”
My mouth actually drops. “Excuse me?”
He takes hold of his dick and shakes it at me. “Don’t be scared. He doesn’t bite… much.”
And he winks. This arrogant, mold-cast caricature of a man actually has the balls to wink as if it’s a kind of kinky punctuation mark.
Oh, no. No, no, no you don’t.
I step up to him, which is to say his pecs given I’m half his height. I poke him right in what appears to be an eyes-with-wings tattoo, though it could be Spongebob Squarepants for all I know, and do my best to avoid the swinging pendulum that is his super-penis. “Look…” I realize I don’t know his name.
“Payton,” he grins, “but you can call me whatever the fuck you want.”
“Look, Payton. I don’t know why you’re naked—”
“I heard you’re the only female in the intake this year.” He glances down at his cock. “I thought you’d appreciate a personal introduction.”
I ignore him. “I don’t know what kind of Sigma Alpha asshole-fest you’re fresh from, but none of this is going to fly with me, comprendo?”
He lets go of his dick to throw his arms wide. “Or what? Hate to tell you this, but you’re no million-dollar baby. That jab was foreplay where I’m from.”
I’ve met my share of entitled jocks before, but this guy is taking it to a whole new level.
I take a step back before his thing takes my eye out. “I’m here to study, train… You know, like an adult.”
He shrugs, his eyes dropping to take me in. “That’s a shame, because a body like that was built for adult activities.”
I look down at his cock and immediately begin to blush, averting my eyes.
Why must you betray me so, body?
‘Payton’ thrusts his hips out. “No, go on. Take a nice, long, hard look.”
I step back into my room and prepare to slam the door. My stuff can wait. “Goodbye.”
He places his hand on the door, holding it open. “Nice to meet you too, neighbor.”
He lets go and I manage to close the door, standing with my back against it breathing hard, my little ham of a heart beating wildly, but why? Because of Mr. Universe out there?
Never. Going. To. Happen, I tell myself. Never. Ever. Ever.
I hear the door to the room next door and suddenly catch the meaning of his last word.
Crap.
It wasn’t a figure of speech.
A double knock on the wall confirms it.
“Feel free to pop over any time,” comes his muffled voice. “The first one’s free.”
I look to the ceiling, but there’s no divine being there to save me.
Lacey, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?
*
The zoo becomes a jungle come night. Given the thump, thump beside my head, I’m pretty sure my delightful neighbor is mating some poor girl, but the question is who given I’m the only female joining the academy this year.
You sure it’s a girl? my head questions.
But there’s no doubt. The alpha-hetero vibes Payton were giving off were practically impregnating me standing still. And the way those golden eyes slid over my body, eye-sexing me like a pro. No, he knows what he’s doing, alright.
Not to mention his… organ. I close my eyes and it’s all I see, like my own personal, glowing penis night light to lull me to sleep.
But penis or not, I am here to learn. I’ve never been defeated by anything or anyone, and Pemberton Fire Academy is not going to be the first thing to beat me. I cannot be broken. It’s simply not in my nature. In sixteen weeks, I’m going to leave this place top of my class. I’m going to be a firefighter if it’s the last damn thing I do.
I wake early and hit the cafeteria before the masses, heading back to my room to run through the course material one final time. As Dad used to say, ‘By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.’
I’m first into the hall, standing patiently at ease while the rest of the class filters in—twenty guys of varying levels of physical fitness. I ignore their glances and whispered conversation. Let them joke. We’ll see who’s laughing in a week.
A blown whistle snaps everyone to silence.
A familiar face enters. Captain Jennings has to be close to seven feet tall and solid. He wears a black shirt and cargo pants, combat boots tied high around his ankles.
He stands before us and scrutinizes a clipboard. “The following names, please step forward. Martinez, Anderson, King, Harris, and Cox.”
Four guys step forward looking between one another.
The far doors swing wide, Payton entering still pulling on his tee.
“And who might you be, son?” queries the Captain.
Payton comes huffing to a stop beside me. “Payton Cox, sir.”
“You will refer to me as Captain, or the Stairmaster 5000. I don’t really give a shit which.”
“Yes, Captain,” corrects Payton, standing right beside me with that perpetual smirk on his face.
The man-giant checks his watch. “You’re eighty-six seconds late, Mr. Cox. Want to tell me why?”
“I was brushing my hair, Captain. I wanted to look my best for you.”
Sporadic laughter follows from the others.
The Captain stands with his legs apart. “Step forward, smartass.”
Clipboard behind his back, the Captain stalks the line of five guys, speaking in tight, punctuated syllables. “Welcome, Class 2B, to the Pemberton Fire Academy, AKA the Hot House. We are the Top Gun of US fire academies, which means you’re going through the wringer five ways to Sunday.” He takes a step forward. “We are a pa-ra-mi-li-ta-ry organization. We are not the Navy SEALS, but come week sixteen you’re going to wish you had signed up for frogman school, because being a firefighter is the greatest calling on earth. Be damn sure we’re not going to let just anyone into that hallowed company.”
Payton turns and winks at me. It takes all the willpower I have not to flip him the bird.
“Now,” continues the Captain, pacing before the guys who have stepped forward, “I hear you bitches,” he spots me in the line, “no offence to our female recruit, had a bit of fun yesterday in what would appear to be a freshman ritual of some sort, partying and horsing around. Well, wake up call, boys. This is not college.” He stops before a spindly-looking redhead. “What’s your name, son?”
“Jackson King, Captain Sir Master Chief Sir,” he barks back, saluting as he says it.
The Captain nods calmly. He looks to the rest of us. “We’re still in the first five minutes and we’ve already established a class clown.” He looks back to Jackson. “You’re going to regret that, son. Get down and give me twenty.”
Jackson looks confused. “Twenty?”
“Push-ups!” yells the captain. “On your fucking hands NOW!”
I’ve never seen anyone hit the ground so fast.
“You other shitheads,” the Captain barks to the four remaining guys, “get down there and join him.” He points to Payton. “An extra ten for you for showing up late, and another ten on top of that for the wise crack.”
Payton gets down and starts doing push-ups one-handed, smiling as he does it.
The Captain doesn’t pay him any attention, speaking to the rest of us. “You want to fool around, you do it on your own time, but while you are here you are mine. Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes, Captain,” we reply.
“Hands behind your backs, feet apart.”
We get into position.
The boys finish their push-ups, Jackson struggling through it.
“Back into line!” The Captain begins to pace again. “Firefighting is not a solo game. You are in this together. Should you make it through these next sixteen
weeks, you will go on to join a new family, but you will never forget the family standing around you right here, right now. Take a good, long look at one another.”
Payton looks down my cleavage. “Yes, sir,” he whispers.
I stare straight ahead, my cheeks quietly burning.
“You will all be assigned a partner to train with. You will have their back and they will have yours. One of you fails, you both fail.”
Payton leans over, his hot breath enveloping my ear. “You better stay out of sight.”
“Why’s that?” I whisper back, not about to be intimidated by this sorry excuse for a human being. “Scared I’ll show you up?”
His smirk widens. “Because training’s going to be tricky if you’re giving me a hard-on all day.”
I’m about to give him another knuckle sandwich, but I manage restraint.
“Something you two want to share with the class?” says the Captain, looking at us.
“No, Captain,” Payton replies. “We were just acquainting ourselves.”
“Good,” the Captain replies, “consider yourself partners.”
“No!” I protest, louder than I mean to.
“No?” the Captain laughs. “Recruit, ‘no’ is not a word we use around here. Bra and panties or not, you’re not going to get any special treatment from me.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Enough!” he shouts.
I stand there fuming. If this idiot beside me has just jeopardized my place here, I’m going to tear him limb from limb, starting with that fire hose of his.
“Works for me,” Payton purrs.
The Captain walks over, lowering his voice and checking his clipboard. “Ms. Nelson, is it?”
I clear my throat before speaking. “Yes, Captain.”
“You’re going to have to head down to the admin office.”
“Now?”
“That’s right. Come back to class when you’re done.”
I nod and start to walk away.
“Ooooo,” comes the coo at my back, soon silenced by the Captain.
The woman behind the admin desk looks up at me when I arrive. “Lacey Nelson?”
“Yes.”
She places a slip of paper on the desk between us, stabbing at it with a pen. “There was a problem with your first payment here.”
