by Lisa N. Paul
By the time he threw the truck in park, Julie was coming down from her first climax.
“Mmm, you could teach a course on one-handed-orgasm-giving while driving,” she said.
“Sure the DMV wouldn’t look too kindly upon that, babe.” Danny smiled, unclicking his seatbelt.
Julie’s eyes settled on the bulge in her husband’s jeans. The man was sex personified. Just his heated looks got her wet and ready.
“That lower lip has always been your tell, Jules…want. Question is, how do I want you to take me? In that sexy mouth of yours or in that tight pussy?”
Either one was perfect to her. She found pleasure in giving him his.
The driver’s seat slid back. “Fuck me, baby. Now.”
Excitement traveled through her blood as she moved from her seat to his. Her jeans had already been unbuttoned and pulled halfway down her hips. She just needed to slide them off one leg and move her panties to the side. He felt so heavy in her hand, so thick, she almost wished he’d chosen a blow job—until she lined him up to her entrance and sank down. Then she thanked her lucky stars he’d wanted to fuck.
“Oh oh, God, Danny. You feel so…”
“Ride me, honey, ride my cock.” He grunted, thrusting his pelvis into hers.
His hands felt amazing on her skin. His tight grip on her ass would no doubt leave marks, marks that they’d admire when they made love later that night. He pulsed into her, and she tightened around him, her release within her grasp.
“Can feel you, baby, so close. Tight little cunt is squeezing me. Fuck, Julie, fuck…”
His thumb swiped at her clit, and bliss hit, stealing her breath and pounding her heart. His orgasm reignited hers as he held her tighter until his tremors stopped.
“You were right,” she teased, lightly touching her lips to his. “The windows are steamed up and we both came.”
Chuckling, Danny nuzzled her nose. “You, more than once.”
###
LAUGHING, SHE UNLOCKED their front door while he carried their luggage over the threshold. “I could have carried a bag or two, you know.”
“First of all”—Danny dropped the overstuffed duffle bags and roll-away suitcase on the tiled entrance floor—“my woman doesn’t carry heavy shit; you know this. Second”—he waved at the collection of luggage—“the fact that we even had this much crap for a four-day trip is in-fuckin-sane, honey.”
Julie stared at Danny. His jeans were unsnapped, shirt unbuttoned, hair screaming that he’d just gotten fucked in the front seat of his truck. The man was so sexy it was sinful, and it was natural. “Not all of us can wake up in the morning and look like that.” She pointed at him.
“What do you mean?” A slow smirk creased his mouth, the smirk that said he knew exactly what she was talking about but wanted to hear her say it.
Danny wasn’t stupid or blind; he knew he what he looked like, but he wasn’t arrogant about it. As he’d said in the past, “Being attractive is good and all, but having the woman I’m in love with look at me with such carnal desire, like she could pull out a spoon, drag it across my flesh, and taste only hot sex and sweet promise, is better than a hundred women vying for my attention.”
With answers like that, how could she ever deny the man anything?
Shaking her head, she pressed her lips together, trying and failing to keep her smile hidden. “I mean, you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Seriously, you’re gorgeous, sexy…” Danny’s grin widened, so Julie decided to rein his ego in a bit. “Hell, you’re pretty, sweetheart. You’d make a beautiful girl.” When Danny’s brows snapped together, Julie saw his intensions and dropped her purse. But even as she backed away from what was sure to be relentless tickle torture, she continued to tease, “So pretty with your long lashes and big hazel eyes. I’d call you Danielle if you were a girl.”
“Run, Julie,” Danny warned.
Julie screeched and complied, running through the hallway and up the stairs. She didn’t get more than a foot into their bedroom before she was lifted off the floor and tossed onto the bed.
“Hope you don’t have to pee, honey,” Danny warned as his fingers met her bare skin and the tickling began. Peals of laughter danced between them as they rolled around the mattress. “What’s the matter, baby? This girl too strong for you?”
After minutes of playing and Julie struggling to keep her bladder from giving up, the phone rang. “D-Danny. Danny, the phone,” she stammered between rounds of hiccups and giggles. “The phone’s ringing.”
“Oh no, you started this. You think I’m gonna let the phone finish it? Tell me I’m the supreme master, and I’ll stop.”
“Never.” She attempted to roll to her side as the answering machine clicked on.
“You’ve reached the Marcus’s. We’re probably avoiding you, so leave a message and we’ll call you later,” the outgoing message recited.
“Danny, Julie, are you there?” Danny’s father’s voice was wrong. The sound of terror in it was so present, it felt tangible. “Please, if you’re there—”
Danny lunged for the phone and yanked it off of its cradle. “Dad?” His voice echoed, the answering machine playing both his voice and his father’s.
“Daniel, oh, God, Daniel…oh my God.”
“Dad, what’s wrong? We just left you this morning…literally just got home.”
A knot formed in Julie’s stomach, one she hadn’t felt in over six years, but one she recognized immediately. On her knees, she crawled to Danny’s side, resting one hand on his back as the other twisted in the bed sheet.
“Neal…it’s Neal,” Allan said.
They’d said good-bye to Neal the night before because he’d had to report for his shift at the station. Forty-eight hours on, one-hundred-twenty off was the rotation Neal was on for the month. Danny’s schedule had an extra twenty-four hours off built into the rotation, making the trip to North Carolina convenient. So they’d said their “see-ya-laters,” and off Neal went. Apparently a two-alarm fire broke out in the early morning. Faulty Christmas lights, old batteries in the smoke detectors—the age-old recipe for disaster. Julie saw the stories on the news every year, and every year her heart broke for the families who’d lost everything on Christmas. Every year she prayed for the firefighters, including her husband, who got called out on the holiday, wishing them a safe return home.
***
“WHAT ABOUT NEAL?” Danny’s flat tone was colder than the temperature outside.
“They got the kids out.” Allan sounded detached, matter-of-fact. “All four of them. They got the mom and the new puppy to safety…but when he went back in for the father…” Allan’s voice cracked.
“What the fuck?”
Danny knew his brother like the back of his hand. He knew Neal had probably been one of the first into the burning house and searching for life. Where some of his coworkers’ excelled at caring for the rescued, Neal’s gift was searching out victims. His brother was thorough, and if the knowledge that Neal could have missed someone sliced through Danny, he could only imagine what it must have done to his brother. Blood rushed through his ears, muting the sound of his father’s voice, words he needed to hear but prayed would stop.
“Who’d he take with him?” Firefighters never entered a burning building alone. The answer would tell Danny if Neal had known how bad the situation was before reentering the building.
“Took Tommy Jones with him.”
Tears burned Danny’s eyes as his hands balled into fists. His brother had known. Tommy was one of the best in the battalion; he’d been Neal’s mentor. Neal knew if anything went wrong, Tommy would be there to get the victim to safety.
“Why’d they let him go back in? He’s just a kid,” Danny screamed.
“He’s one of the best, Daniel. Don’t you dare take that away from him. Besides, it was two houses, son, all hands on. Neal and Tommy went in with backup on the ground working their balls off to put out the flames.” Allan’s voice trembled. “
Got into a Mayday situation.”
Danny gulped air, trying to swallow around the lump in his esophagus. “How?”
“Tommy and the victim were already out, on the first rung of the ladder…second story. Floor gave out under Neal. Fucking floor gave out, Danny. He never had a chance; my boy never had a chance.”
Warmth seeped from Danny’s closed eyes as the phone dropped from his hand. His baby brother, his comic relief, his closest friend…gone.
“Dad?” Julie’s voice was thick with emotion, but Danny still couldn’t open his eyes. “I’m so sorry… just so, so sorry. We-We’re heading back down. Okay?”
“Jules,” his father croaked, “I don’t know how this happened. Two of my boys…gone. Please drive carefully. I love you both. Take care of my son, please.”
“We love you too.” She sniffled. “Be there by tonight.”
The sharp tone indicated that the answering machine had stopped recording. It also reminded Danny that the entire conversation had been taped, therefore there would be no way to convince himself that it didn’t really happen. Julie kneeled before him, her palms on either side of his face. He knew her hands were always soft and cool, but he couldn’t feel her touch. He saw her lips moving but couldn’t hear her voice. He was numb, cold, dazed.
“…Then I’ll get you and we’ll leave, okay?”
He nodded, not knowing what he’d agreed to and not caring as long as he could stay in the darkness that had taken hold the moment his father told him his brother was gone.
“Be careful, sweetheart. Sit tight.”
If seconds ticked by, then they could have been minutes. If they were minutes, they could have been hours. Time didn’t exist in the black where his mind had traveled. The scales no longer balanced between life and death with his mother and both brothers in heaven and he and his father in hell. How could he make sense of a life where those who saved others perished so young, their existence fading before their lives ever truly began? What made him so fucking special that he still stood when both of his brothers had fallen? He fought in war. He fought in fire. Why? Why?
“Danny, sweetheart? We’re here, baby.” Julie’s warmth penetrated his skin. “We’re back at your dad’s.”
Back in North Carolina? How in the hell? “How…when?”
“We just got here. I got us packed with fresh clothing, made sure you were re-buttoned, then walked you to the truck. Once the house was locked up, I drove us here. That’s how.” Her eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears, but her tone was strong and fearless. “As you like to say, ‘We took vows, baby,’ for better or worse. This is worse, this is indescribable, but I’m here with you, Danny. I’m not gonna let you down, and I’ll never let you go. It’s gonna be horrible, but we’ll get through this together.
His mind spun with awe, with shock, with pain, but also with the inability to form words. He squeezed her hand, brought it to his lips, and gave it a simple kiss. That was all he had left to offer in that moment, so he gave it to her.
“Come on, your dad’s probably waiting on us. Although judging by the car in the drive, I can see he isn’t alone.”
The late-model Mercedes belonged to Anita, his father’s girlfriend. Allan had formally introduced her to Danny and Julie just a few days prior, but they had spoken over the phone over the past few months. Anita was the first woman Danny’s dad had gotten serious with since Danny’s mother died, and Danny was happy his father had moved on with such a kind woman. Seeing her car in the drive made him feel lighter. He couldn’t stand the thought of his dad being alone, not even for a minute.
With Julie’s cool fingers laced through his, they entered his childhood home. How could it be that they had left the house only that morning? After loading their car and having coffee and waffles with his dad, Allan had given them tight embraces and made them promise to call the minute they arrived in Baltimore. He said he’d miss seeing their faces, and Danny joked that Anita was probably waiting around the block for them to leave so she could come over and spend the day making merry since Allan insisted the woman didn’t spend the night while the kids were under his roof.
Smiles. Laughter. Warmth. Things that had stayed in Danny’s mind during the long ride home. But as he walked through the same doors they’d exited no more than fifteen hours prior, the place felt smothered in a dank chill. Shards of broken glass glittered on the tile floor, crunching with each step he and Julie took, announcing their presence without any need for words. The bookcases that Danny, Neal, and their father built just months after Jeff’s death and his mother’s suicide—“much needed father-son time” his dad had called it—were lying face down and splintered. The dry wall where the cases used to stand held fist-sized holes with streaks of crimson.
“Dad?” Danny croaked, having never witnessed a breakdown of such violence.
When word had come of Jeff’s death, his father drank, cried, and mourned. He explained to Danny and Neal that a real man felt his feelings, dealt with them, and continued to live. When his mother took her life, Allan grieved for his first love and helped his sons mourn the loss of their mother and deal with the fact that she had chosen to leave them. But this…Danny wasn’t certain how much more loss his father could take. How much more loss he himself could bear.
“Son. Oh, God, son…you’re here.”
Wrapped in his father’s loving arms, Danny knew he had reserves of strength left. He just needed to tap into them. For his dad, he could do it. Julie squeezed Danny’s hand, and he realized they were still connected. Just as she’d promised, she hadn’t let go. She nodded before releasing his hand.
Embracing his father, Danny whispered, “I’m here, Dad. We’re gonna get through this and continue to live. Cause that’s what real men do, yeah?”
***
“HE WAS ALREADY dead,” Danny snarled at Tommy Jones, the firefighter who had gone back into the townhouse to rescue the last victim the night Neal died.
Julie reached out, attempting to calm Danny, but he brushed her away and jumped out of the chair he’d been sitting in. Tommy had called the Marcus house earlier that morning and requested a visit with Allan and Danny. It had been two days since the fire, two days since they arrived home in Baltimore, made love in the Ranger, and chased each other around their house until her sides hurt from laughter. It felt like months, but it was two damn days.
The funeral was planned for the following afternoon—no viewing, just a service followed by the burial. In the meantime, Julie and Anita took turns fielding calls and turning away visitors at Allan’s and Danny’s requests. The men had insisted that the day of the funeral would be a circus and they didn’t need to “entertain the monkeys” until then. But Tommy’s request to visit was honored since he was the last one to see Neal alive. So there they sat—Allan, Anita, Danny, Tommy and Julie—around the kitchen table, full but untouched coffee cups, loaded but unspoken questions.
“Yeah,” Tommy confirmed, “the victim was already dead when we got to him.”
“Explain,” Allan, a retired fire chief from the very station where Tommy and Neal worked, demanded.
“Apparently the husband and wife had been sleeping in different bedrooms. He was a drinker, situation wasn’t pleasant, divorce was in the cards, but they hadn’t yet told the kids.” Tommy shook his head. “Fire broke out when everyone was sleeping. Mother woke to the smell of smoke and started screaming. She thought she woke everyone. A neighbor must have called 9-1-1, thank the Lord, ‘cause by the time she got up, the entire back of the first floor was consumed in flames.
“We got there, got in, and Neal grabbed two of the kids right out of their beds. They couldn’t get out of their rooms—fire was right outside their fucking door. The mom was stuck in another bedroom with the two other kids. Got them out. The kids started talking about the puppy who was stuck in the crate in the front of the house. Two guys went in and got the dog...in and out fast, no worries. That’s when the wife screamed for her husband.” Tommy’s eyes drift
ed between Danny and Allan. “You know Neal would go back in.”
Allan nodded woodenly.
“He’d been on the second floor, seen the devastation there,” Tommy said. “The minute he screamed he was going in, I followed. According to the wife, the spare bedroom was in the back of the house.”
“Where the fire started,” Danny stated the obvious.
“Yeah,” Tommy nodded, swallowing hard. Julie could see the man was reliving each minute as he spoke.
“We got in quick enough, or so we thought. The victim was lying on the bed, unresponsive.” Tommy looked at both men. “You know how it is—we didn’t even try to wake him. I just threw him over my shoulder and headed back to the window. The floor was so fucking hot, it was beginning to buckle and smoke was pluming through the vents. We thought we had time, Neal and I. I hurried. I just needed another step or two, and he could have gotten out. I was on the second rung when I heard it…I felt it… the whole damn house shook. The fucking floor caved in.
“The mayday call was executed flawlessly, but the fall was too bad, the fire too out of control.” Tommy rubbed his hands over his face. “Thing of it is, the father must of had a heart attack and died before the fire ever started. The family’s already received the preliminary autopsy results. There was no smoke in his lungs, but he did suffer from a massive cardiac event.”
“So what you’re telling me is”—Danny paced, his hands clenched into tight fists—“my brother died trying to save a fucking dead man?”
Julie gasped as Danny’s fist went through the wall, retracted, and punctured the drywall a second time.
Allan rose slowly, rounded the table, and stopped in front of his remaining child. “No, son, what Tommy is telling us is Neal died doing what he lived to do. We’re firefighters. We protect those who need us when their lives are in the balance. Those little children didn’t know their daddy had died. They only knew he was stuck in their house and couldn’t get out. Neal got him out, son. Dead or alive, that man was rescued.”
