by Cassie Cole
Leading him by the grip I had on his hair, I stood and pulled him onto the couch so he was laying on his back. I threw one leg over his head so that I was straddling his face, then lowered myself until I felt his nose pressing into my ass.
“Mmm,” he said, gripping my hips with both hands and squeezing me to him. I sighed as his tongue shot up into my lips, licking up and down.
Not content to be the only one pleasured, I turned my attention to his cock, which was resting flat against his belly. Hard and waiting. He had no pubic hair, which I’d never seen on a guy before but was insanely hot on Christian, allowing the veins in his pelvis to stick out against the skin. Smooth and hard.
I leaned forward and ran my fingers along it, teasing him with my touch. He shuddered and continued moaning into my pussy so I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, feeling its warmth. Slowly I began stroking him up and down. That simple motion caused him to squeeze his thighs together, the muscles contracting like snapped rubber bands.
With his grip still on my waist, he pushed me off his face long enough to say, “You taste so good.”
“Then don’t stop,” I said, pushing back down. He continued his meal eagerly.
Everything was hitting on all cylinders: doing this in the common room where we could be caught at any moment, sitting on this gorgeous man’s face, having his hands squeeze me tight while he pushed his tongue as deep inside me as it would go. Fuck, it was good. My climax was a raging inferno, consuming all the oxygen in the room. I lowered my head to his cock and took it quickly, pushing my lips as far down on it as I could until I was almost gagging.
“Ugh!” he moaned into my lower lips.
I sucked on him as quickly as I could, up and down like it were a race, but this was one I was going to win. Soon I was gasping and biting my lip to keep from screaming as I came, his lips sucking on my clit at that perfect moment while I squeezed his head between my thighs and put a hand on his chest for leverage.
Somehow I avoided making too much noise while coming all over Christian’s face. Like an angel carrying me to heaven he lifted me off him and turned me around, kissing me sensually on the lips so I could taste myself.
“You enjoy that?”
“Mmm hmm,” I managed to say.
His smile was wolfish. “My turn.”
He took over, lifting me again and dropping me onto my back like the way we’d started, spreading my legs wide. I was soaked from my own juices and the work of his tongue, so when he guided the tip of his cock into my lips it slid in like a hand into a glove.
“Oh!” I breathed, running a hand over his muscular chest. He pushed steadily inside me, taking me the way I knew he wanted. I arched my back with pleasure when he was fully inside, his thighs touching my inner thighs, warm against the cool room.
He smiled lustily down at me while pulling back slowly. “I can barely hold back,” he said in a husky voice.
“Then don’t,” I whispered.
He thrust hard, catching me off guard and burying himself to the hilt. A yelp escaped my throat and he put a finger to my lips. I kissed the finger, then wrapped my lips around it and began sucking on it like it was his cock, from the fingernail down to the base. This caused Christian to thrust faster, slamming into my pussy roughly, sending shockwaves of ecstasy through my body and making his eight-pack of abs ripple back and forth.
“Is this what you like?” he said with half a smile.
“Yes!” I breathed.
“You like being fucked like this?”
“Yes! Yes!”
He didn’t last long. He kept his pace steady but I felt his body tremble, and his face twisted with so much pleasure it looked like he was in pain.
“Amy, oh Amy!”
“Come for me!” I pleaded as loud as I dared.
I loved watching a man come. His eyes clenched shut and his mouth opened in a silent howl, accentuating the hard planes of his cheeks. He buried himself as deep as he could inside me and I tightened my lips around his shaft, squeezing him like my life depended on it. All the while he gripped my legs, the muscles in his arms bulging with effort.
11
Christian
I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard before.
Seriously, it went on forever. Like my dick was stuck on replay, spasming and spasming. There wasn’t a drop left inside me. Hell, my mouth was now dry.
She fucked me so good I’m dehydrated.
Amy kissed me on the cheek, said a lusty, “Sleep tight, Christian,” and disappeared into her room, leaving me nude on the couch and wondering what had happened.
I was too spent to move for several minutes.
Amy had gone to bed. No cuddling, no chit-chat after. Just wham bam thank you Sam. I guess that wasn’t surprising. She seemed like a strong woman who unapologetically took what she wanted.
Still, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Sleeping with your colleagues was always dangerous, regardless of the industry. For firefighters the danger was magnified by the way we had to work as a team. Needed to have each other’s back at all times, or else someone might die. Literally die. That’s what we dealt with on a daily basis.
Anything that disrupted that dynamic was bad.
I’d slept with fellow firefighters before. Julia, the spunky little Cuban woman at our last station was a fling that lasted a few months. Then there was Amanda. She and I hit it off after a long shift, and since neither of us wanted a serious relationship we’d kept it strictly physical. Meeting up after shifts for beers, then back to her place (or mine) without a word. For two people who needed to blow off steam, it was a good arrangement.
Then one night Sparks joined us for a beer after work. Someone made a joke about him coming home with us, and we all laughed a little too hard at it. We laughed some more when he crowded his way into my back seat with Amanda, and then before I knew it she was going down on him in the rear-view mirror.
And holy shit it was hot.
I wasn’t the jealous type. I appreciated boundaries: Amanda wanted to keep things physical, which was just fine by me. So when we got home I was practically ripping off Amanda’s clothes, and bending her over in front of Sparks so she could please us both at the same time.
It was more than just a one night thing, more than just a drunk threesome between people who wanted to try it once. A few days later, after yet another long shift, Sparks joined us for post-work beers again. That time we really got freaky—multiple partners really brought out the wild side of her. Us too. Even Angel joined in every now and then, though not as often and Sparks and I. And for the next month or so before she moved home to Indianapolis, we had a good thing going.
Amy had been making a joke tonight when she said one of the other guys could join us. But it was a joke that hit close to home, and it reminded me of all those other nights. It made me want to do so much more than what we’d just done.
“Fuck,” I whispered to myself. As good as it had been, I’d never done it with someone in the same unit before. That was the dynamic that had to be protected at all costs.
Then again, I’d never had the opportunity. I’d never had a woman in my unit before, let alone a woman like Amy.
My only warning was Angel cursing; it sounded like he stubbed his toe in the other room. I grabbed my pants and shirt and pulled them over me like a poor imitation of a blanket as his door opened and he wandered into the common room.
“Oh,” he said, glancing over at the couch. “You still up?”
“Yeah, fell asleep on the couch,” I said. The backrest of the couch blocked his view of me as he went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I waited as he pulled out the jug of milk, poured himself a small glass, and drank it down.
“Night,” he said as he wandered back into his room.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I hastily put my clothes on and went to my own bedroom to sleep, my mind still racing about the beautiful woman one room over.
12
Amy
I slept great. I always slept great after an orgasm, and especially so if it was from someone else rather than just a night with my vibrator. Sex was an activity. I woke up feeling achy in all the right ways. Down there, of course, but also a nice tightness in my calves and core.
Even with all the weight lifting I did, sex exercised different muscles.
But as well as I slept, the morning brought with it the terrible overthinking that came after having sex with someone new. I went to the bathroom, changed into my workout clothes, and slowly opened the bedroom door.
Nobody was awake yet. Just me.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I went out for my morning run. It was chillier this morning, another reminder that winter was here. Miami had bipolar winters; sometimes it would remain in the 70s through January, and other times we had sweeping cold fronts that dropped the temperatures down into the 40s for a few days before jumping back up. As a firefighter, the chill in the air held a sense of foreboding for me. We got more calls in the winter. Fireplaces started getting used; heated blankets and space heaters were pulled out of closets. Winter wasn’t that dangerous, but across a population of half a million that meant an uptick in calls.
But hey, at least it made for good running weather.
This time I headed west and followed the main road until it intersected with the highway, then doubled back and weaved through the neighborhoods until I’d accumulated 6.22 miles on my Garmin watch. That was enough to take my mind off things because I strode into the station without fear of seeing Christian or feeling awkward about anything.
But again, nobody was awake.
I didn’t mind that. I liked being an early morning person because it meant having some quiet time to myself. And this morning it would give me extra time to think about what to say to Christian.
I showered, changed into my casual uniform, and went into the kitchen to get breakfast ready.
Never sleep with your unit mates. That was the advice given to me by Captain Maise Andrews after I graduated from the Fire Academy. I could still hear her words today: “You’re hot. They’re hot. Everybody is hot, and hormonal, and eager to blow off steam. Take it from me: you’re going to look like a juicy steak to those boys. Resist the urge. As a woman, the onus is on you. That’s unfair, but it’s how it is. Never sleep with your unit mates.”
It had been easy at my old station. Like I’d said, everyone in my unit was like a brother to me. We’d come up through the Fire Academy together, like toddlers growing up. I didn’t see them any other way.
Christian, however…
I stirred pancake batter in a bowl and wondered how I should feel. I didn’t feel guilty—not yet, at least. I didn’t have that cringe-worthy shame of making a mistake.
If anything, I felt excited about what had happened.
Excited. Yeah, that was the right word for it. It felt like Christmas morning, except I’d already peeked at one of my presents but still got to open it later. I was excited to see Christian, to work with him, to get to know him better.
Last night made up for the other setbacks at my new station. At least, a little bit.
I was scraping the first batch of pancakes out of the pan and onto a plate when I heard the first bedroom door open. I waited, nervous with anticipation to see who it would be.
“Pancakes,” Angel said. “Nice.”
“They’re my specialty,” I said over my shoulder.
He appeared next to me in the same casual blues I was wearing. He picked up the box and said, “Your specialty comes from a mix?”
“Well, yeah,” I admitted. “But I stir the ingredients really good.”
More footsteps. This time I knew who it was by their scoff before they spoke. “Pancakes?”
“Got a problem with that, Sparky?” I asked.
“Pancakes are garbage.”
“Hah!” I said. “You must be the only person in the world who doesn’t like pancakes.”
“Don’t get him started,” Angel said with a groan.
He leaned against the fridge to my right and crossed his arms. The sneer made the freckles on his face dance. “Out of all the breakfast foods, pancakes are the weakest.”
“How do you figure?”
“The purpose of a breakfast carbohydrate is to deliver butter and syrup,” he lectured. “Waffles are the king of this, obviously. English muffins have nooks and crannies too, and French toast is nice and absorbent for all that buttery, syrupy goodness. But pancakes are just flat and boring. Everything slides right off, leaving a mess.”
I turned around and aimed my spatula like a sword. “Pancakes are just as absorbent as French toast. You cut them up, then everything soaks into the side.”
“French toast gets a pass for being delicious,” Sparks said. “Pancakes are a waste of time. Might as well dip white bread in a cup of Pepsi.”
“I’ll eat his share,” Angel said.
“Me too,” said Christian. The sound of his voice sent a tingle up my back. He appeared next to me, leaning out over the pan where the next batch was cooking away. He took a big whiff and said, “Those smell delicious.”
“They taste delicious, too.”
His grin deepened. It was the grin of someone smiling about something other than pancakes. “Can’t wait to taste them.”
He grabbed plates and forks while I tried not to blush. Angel and Sparks seemed oblivious; the former accepted the first batch, while the latter popped some English muffins in the toaster to make his own breakfast. But I caught him eying my pan when he thought I wasn’t looking. Maybe I could win him over in the future.
I sat across from Christian while we ate. He kept sending looks my way but said nothing flirtatious or suggestive. I guess that answered my question about whether or not we should tell the others.
We were cleaning up as our shift officially began, and we didn’t have to wait long. The station alarm blared at 8:01, sending us scrambling into the garage with our plates still sitting in the sink.
“Station 47. 10th Avenue east. Office building fire. Time: 8:01. Station 47. 10th Avenue east. Office building fire. Time: 8:01. Station 47…”
“Another call on 10th,” I said as I hopped on the back of the engine. “Hope this one’s a false alarm too.”
I remembered to turn on my helmet radio this time. Halfway to the fire Christian spoke on the shared channel: “Same location as yesterday. The call center office building.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sparks grumbled. “Another fucking false alarm.”
“Hope they catch the smoker this time,” I said.
“I hope they do more than just catch him,” Sparks said, and I got the impression he didn’t mean that he hoped they got fired.
But as we turned down the road into the office park we were greeted with a different sight. The same employees were gathered outside the doors in small clusters, but now they wore expressions of fear instead of annoyance. Behind them a pillar of black rose into the sky from the fire along the side of the building, tall and foreboding.
Not a false alarm after all.
“Fuck me,” Sparks said.
I could only nod. There was no room for teasing, now.
It was a repeat of yesterday, although with an added layer of urgency. Angel brought the engine to a stop and I hopped out, unloading one of the folds of hose and carrying it to the familiar hydrant. I wrapped the house around it once then used my wrench to open the valve, nine-to-three again.
“Same point of origin,” Christian said on the radio. “Angel and I will be the two-in. Sparks and Amy two-out.”
That was an unusual tactic, but he was in charge, not me. “Roger that,” I said at the same Sparks said, “We’ve got you.”
I untwisted the clamp and ran the same checks as I did yesterday: visual inspection for trash blocking the interior, then allowing a trickle of water free to verify functionality and no blockage.
While I worked, I could hear Christian and Angel running through their gear checks.
“Straps tight?”
“Check.”
“SCBA airflow?”
“Check.”
“PASS equipment check?”
There was a short, high-pitched screech in our radio. The Personal Alert Safety System being tested.
“PASS check!”
Using both hands I screwed our hose valve onto the hydrant, stopping only when I couldn’t turn it anymore. I picked up the wrench, stood in the safe spot behind the hydrant, and said, “Requesting permission to wet the intake hose.”
“Do it!” Christian said.
I crouched down and leaned my weight into the wrench. The water valve moved easily, bringing with it the gurgling hiss of water pressure. Within seconds I had it open all the way. The intake hose quickly went from a flat ribbon to a fat cylinder.
“Hose wetted!”
I checked the line to make sure there weren’t any snags while running back to the engine. Christian and Angel were already at the front door to the office, Christian leading the way with the hose nozzle while Angel fed the line five feet behind. There was a spray of water as he tested the pressure, then they disappeared inside the front door.
Sparks already had the secondary line unfolded and dragged halfway around the side of the building, yelling at employees to give us a wide berth. As the two-out, our job was to serve as backup to the two-in in case anything happened. If one of their PASS alarms went off we would rush inside to give assistance.
Hopefully giving assistance rather than carrying out a body.
But while serving as backup for them, we could use the secondary hose to attack the fire from the outside. Sparks had the nozzle so I picked up the slack hose a few feet behind, carrying it along while he marched toward the smoke.
“Interior visibility is low,” Christian said on the radio. “But point of origin appears to be the break room.”
“Confirm visual from side of building,” Sparks said. “Fourth window from the front.”
“How’s it look out there?” Angel chimed in.
I cleared my throat and said, “Origin window is busted already, so no risk of backdraft there. Two adjacent windows are also smashed.”
