Burnin' Up Memphis: Firehouse 69, Book 1 (2 page)

Chapter Two

So maybe Christa had been right about him just letting it all out—a suggestion he hadn’t acknowledged with more than a glare at the time. But crying had lifted a little of the weight that sat like a rock on his chest and shoulders. When he awoke on the bare mattress, he was clear-eyed and refreshed. Perhaps ready to reenter his world. And hungry. The sorrow was still there, but he could push it to the back of his mind. He even smiled as he made a peanut butter sandwich with the last two slices of stale bread—he and Danny had eaten worse when they’d roomed together before Danny had married.

After he’d satisfied his hunger, Coop roamed his empty apartment, shaking his head at Christa’s thoroughness. Not even a sofa to sit on, just a rickety camp chair he pulled from his closet. The quiet when he seated himself in his living room was deafening.

It was then he remembered the invitation. One passed in whispers among the men. Issued by Billy Sorensen, another firefighter on their shift whose lifestyle had become part of the rumor mill whirling around the firehouse. Billy had moved into a house along with a pretty blonde and a cop. The rumor was they were more than friends. That both men shared the woman’s bed. Danny had shrugged it off. “It’s Billy’s business,” he’d said. “And he seems happy.”

And he wasn’t the first inside their firehouse to have an unconventional living arrangement. Aiden Byrne, who’d recently transferred to another house after making lieutenant, shared his place with his longtime girlfriend and now, another man. And rumors were that the men shared more than the woman.

The invitation to the private club had been given late one night when the men sat around the table in the kitchen area. Billy was usually quiet about his love life, but that night he’d spilled the news his girl was pregnant, and that the child’s parentage was a mystery that wouldn’t be solved until the birth. If it was fair-skinned when it was born, it would be Billy’s, if dark-skinned, Beau McIntyre’s.

The men had gulped on their coffee, waiting, intensely curious until Billy had offered more. Pansy worked in a BDSM dungeon. A private club called La Forge. And Billy was a member, played there often, learning the intricacies of domination from Aiden who was one the club’s masters. Pansy was submissive to both Billy and Beau.

After the long silence that followed, Billy had aimed a glare around the table. “Don’t judge if you’ve never tried it.”

Instead of censure or even laughter, Noah had cleared his throat. “And…how does a guy get an invitation?”

Billy had straightened his shoulders, a small smile playing on his lips. “If you’re serious, and you can manage to be respectful, I’ll get you in.”

Plans had been made, but then Danny’s death had pushed the visit back. Tonight, those who were interested would meet in the foyer inside the club.

What the hell. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He’d go stir-crazy in his apartment, and drinking with strangers didn’t appeal. After weeks of isolation, he wanted the company of his friends.

Half an hour later, he regretted the restless impulse to come. After he got past the beefy guard at the door, he slipped through the teak double doors and stood staring. Whatever he’d imagined, it wasn’t this.

What the hell am I doing here?

In the foyer was a tall reception desk. Nothing too out of the ordinary there. His buddies were crowded around a sexy redhead who sat smiling on a tall stool beside the desk. His gaze followed the length of her long, nicely muscled legs. He guessed she was pretty enough…

Who was he kidding? She was drop-dead gorgeous with a catlike smile and green almond eyes. Her mouth was painted red, and it was likely that every man standing near her was wondering what those full lips would look like wrapped around their dicks. He imagined it and then caught himself. Hell, Christa’s perfume still haunted his house.

Coop pulled his gaze from her and gave the room beyond the foyer a longer glance, wondering if he could slip back out the door before his friends noticed him standing there, his feet getting colder by the minute.

The room beyond the foyer was a huge open space. He tried to ignore the people crowded into the room, instead concentrating on the decor because it was far less disturbing. Subdued lighting cast by crystal chandeliers shone above. Brighter lighting surrounded three stages tucked into distant corners. There was a bar, but he didn’t see a line of booze bottles behind it, just juice and a wide variety of bottled water. No beer, for sure. Inside, he sighed.
So
not his kind of place.

The center of the room was decorated like a historical movie set—Persian carpets, furniture covered in plush red velvet, old-fashioned carved arms and backs, S-shaped sofas where men and women leaned toward each other to whisper and kiss, flirting with their eyes and fingertips—and wearing the most outlandish gear that he felt a blush burn his cheeks. Ignoring the people was kind of impossible, and he gave up trying. Despite his internal warnings, his pulse quickened. On longer sofas, every imaginable sex act or precursor to a sex act was happening. He felt as though his senses were on overload there was so much to take in.

His gaze snagged on a couple parading through the room and he jerked, because he recognized the man—Mondo Acevedo—a cop who played regularly in their friendly Saturday police-against-firefighters football games. Tonight, Mondo was dressed in black leather pants and boots, but the pretty woman beside him was completely nude and wearing a thin black collar around her neck, her pretty Asian eyes avidly curious about everything around her.

Coop backed up a step and turned.

“Hey, Coop!”

A hand clapped his shoulder, and Coop pasted on a quick smile before turning to look at a grinning Noah.

“Glad you could make it, buddy. Gage and I thought we’d be the only ones walking around with hard-ons.”

Grateful Noah didn’t make more of a big deal out of the fact he’d come, Coop offered up a wry smile. “Sorry to tell you, but there’s a big ole room full of hard-ons out there.”

Noah raised his eyebrows and laughter gleamed in his green eyes. His sun-streaked brown hair was spiked with gel and he was wearing an earring in one ear. Otherwise, he looked pretty much like Coop, dressed in casual slacks with a soft jersey tee and boots.

Noah leaned closer to whisper, “Well, what do you think?”

Coop shrugged. “We’re barely inside. I don’t know.” He pointed his chin toward the larger room. “Not sure this is for me.”

“Billy’s going to be here in a minute. Moira went to tell him we’re all here.”

“Moira?”

“The redhead at the desk. She’s filling in for Pansy, Billy’s girl, since she’s playing tonight.”

Playing? His mind whirled at all the possibilities that word encompassed. Good Lord, were they going to get an eyeful of pretty, pregnant Pansy? How would he ever manage to look her in the face again? Or Billy.
This is a really bad idea.

Billy’s personal life was his own business. What was he thinking opening himself up to the rest of them? Guys in the firehouse weren’t exactly polite. Did he want his reputation in shreds? Coop winced. Hell, wasn’t he risking his own just being here? But then again, why did he care?

Noah pointed toward the desk. “You have to sign some paperwork. Moira left a copy of an agreement on the desk. Your promise that whatever happens in La Forge stays in La Forge.”

“Including my self-respect?” Coop quipped and then went still. He hadn’t made a joke or given a quick comeback in ages. It felt foreign. And just a little like a betrayal. Not of Christa. They were done. It felt as though that little flicker of humor rising up cheapened Danny’s death.

Noah’s smile widened. “I’m glad you came. Whatever happens, bro, I’ve got your back. Now let’s go get that waiver signed.”

Coop held his breath. Ready to refuse. To tell him he wanted to leave, but then Gage turned and gave him a crooked smile.

As they approached the other firefighter, Coop nearly laughed. If possible, the large man looked even more uncomfortable than Coop felt.

He gave them both a growl as they approached. “Did you see the chick with Mondo?” Gage asked in his gravelly voice. “Holy fuck.”

A throat cleared behind them. They all turned to find Billy standing beside Moira, wearing a smile that seemed just a little strained.

Maybe he was worried about what they were all thinking about him right about now, and whether they would keep their opinions to themselves.

Billy’s pale blue gaze went straight to Coop. “I’m glad you could make it.” Then he swept the group with a warning glance. “This isn’t a porn show or a strip club. Mind your manners.” His eyes narrowed. “No stuffing bills in G-strings. If you have questions, ask me or Moira—no topic’s off-limits. I’m going to walk you around, explain some of what you’ll see, but for the most part, you’re here to observe. Please keep in mind these folks aren’t here for your entertainment. Most of these people are professionals, needing a place to unwind and be completely free. Somewhere they can be themselves. Don’t be too quick to judge. You might find something that sparks your interest.”

Coop hoped the tour was quick and that then he could talk the other two into hitting a bar afterward for drinks. His glance fell to Moira, who stood beside Billy, large eyes studying the group. She was dressed in a short red tartan skirt and a demure white blouse that was unbuttoned to just below her bright red bra. His glance swept down a fine pair of slim legs to a pair of black patent shoes with straps across the top and chunky four-inch heels. The schoolgirl look worked for her. And made him horny as hell. One good thing about this place—it sure took his mind off his problems.

Moira tossed back her hair and sidled up next to Coop.

Something he wished she wouldn’t do. Looking at her from afar was one thing. This close, he could smell lemon and vanilla. She smelled like a damn pastry, and suddenly, he was hungry.

She gave him a sideways glance and small flirty smile. “I’ve already talked to your friends. Is it your first time too in a BDSM club?”

Coop cleared his throat. “How’d you guess?” he muttered.

“I saw you try to escape.” She laughed and then gave him another speculative look. “Don’t be so quick to make up your mind. Not everything you see will be to your taste. Not everything is to mine. But there’s something empowering about being able to experiment and find your own way.”

He liked her slightly husky tone and the odd way she looked at him, her silver-gray gaze somehow direct while she peered up at him from beneath her thick black lashes. Coop felt a twinge of shame at his attraction for the redhead. Christa was barely out the door. How could all his cylinders be firing, revving as he stared down at her? She seemed…interested. Which was flattering. Or was he only hoping that was interest? For sure, this was the first time he’d felt fully alive since the roof had fallen out from under Danny’s feet.

She slipped her hand into his and jerked her head toward the open salon. “Come with me.”

He glanced around at the other guys to find them staring. Gage’s brows were lowered. He didn’t know Coop was a free agent. One of Noah’s brows was arched—no judgment there.

Coop felt a tug and stepped out, following Moira as she led him deeper into the room that smelled of perfume, cologne, leather…and sex. She moved quickly, something he appreciated because he didn’t know how he would have managed to keep from staring at the people he passed.

She took him to a stage in a far corner. Bright canister lights aimed downward from the ceiling. Beneath one golden beam, a man stood to the side, dressed only in dark leather pants and combat boots. His head was shaved clean up the sides and the black top was gelled to stand up in spikes like the teeth of a saw. There was more black eyeliner ringing his eyes than a hooker on Beale Street. In the center of the stage was a naked blonde whose arms were held tightly against her sides by thick black bands as she bent over a padded bench. Small hooks in the bands were fastened with clasps that attached to the bench.

As Coop watched, the man with the spiked hair kicked the dais she rested on and it turned, giving Coop a view of her in profile, her heavy breasts jiggling. Light trailed down the slope of the center of her back and then up the curve of her lush bottom. The wheel continued, turning until that pretty, generous bottom faced the audience gathering around the stage. More than just her cheeks were displayed. Some sort of black metal bar kept her knees spread. Her shaved pussy and anus were there for anyone to ogle.

Coop, raised a polite Southern boy, wanted to glance away. Staring seemed invasive, but no one around him seemed to have the same qualms.

Certainly not Moira. Her slow inward hiss drew his gaze. Her teeth bit her bottom lip and the cups of her lacy red bra rose and fell with a deep sigh. Her gaze darted to him, and she gave him a small smile. “I didn’t know he’d accepted Britney for training.” Her chin lifted a fraction and she cleared her throat. “This is my favorite part. I love to watch Anton work.”

“Anton?” Coop asked, and then felt his cheeks heat because his voice was thick. So was something else, but he hoped like hell she didn’t notice. However, the woman on the stage wasn’t what aroused him. Watching Moira’s breathless excitement tinged with what appeared to be irritation did.

“Anton’s the Dom on stage. Dominant,” she added and shot him an asking glance.

“I know what a Dominant is,” he murmured. She didn’t need to know that was the extent of his knowledge of BDSM vocabulary.

A movement on the stage drew his attention. Anton moved behind the woman, standing slightly to the side so as not to obstruct the observers’ views.

Anton parted Britney’s folds, widening them so that everyone could see the gaping hole of her pussy. With dramatic flair, he rimmed her opening with his forefinger and then held it aloft to rub the moisture he’d gathered with his thumb. His gaze darted quickly to Moira and one side of his mouth kicked up.

Coop gave Moira a quick glance, but other than a stiffening of her shoulders, Moira’s expression gave away nothing of her thoughts. Coop wondered if there might be something going on between Anton and Moira, but he shrugged off the thought. It wasn’t his business. Still, a pang struck his chest.