Burnin' Up Memphis: Firehouse 69, Book 1 (3 page)

Anton swirled inside the woman again and then widened her folds. Thick cream clung to her sex. How the woman felt about his treatment was revealed by her deep groan and sinking shoulders.

Coop felt her humiliation, but it didn’t have the effect on him he would have expected. Rather than grimacing with empathy, a secret thrill of excitement zinged through his veins. His attention riveted again, he watched as Anton moved away and toward a cart where he flipped up a cover on a tray.

There stood three tall candles in glass jars, like prayer candles, which Anton lit and set aside. Then he picked up a paddle and flipped it from one side to the other. One side was padded with red furry fabric, the other waffled and wooden.

As Anton approached the woman, he hid the paddle behind his back. When he stood beside her, he used his left hand to pat one side of her bottom. “Sweet slut, I’ve promised you something special tonight, but only if you’re very, very good. Do you need to know what your reward will be?”

She shook her head and blonde hair slid over her shoulders. “No, Sir,” she said in a small, slightly high-pitched voice. “I trust you to determine what reward I’ve earned.”

He moved his hand over to her other cheek. “I’m going to warm your pretty ass, slut. Then I’m going to make it burn.”

Coop jerked at the term slut, and this time, he did cringe inside, but he couldn’t quite manage to drag his gaze from the scene unfolding in front of him. He wasn’t alone. More were gathering around them, crowding him and Moira, who was snuggled next to his arm now. Her heat burned his skin.

Anton withdrew his hand and, without another word of warning, quickly brought the fur side of the paddle down across Britney’s buttocks.

The woman gave a muffled gasp, but otherwise gave no other reaction.

Anton’s gaze narrowed, and he delivered several more blows, directed to different areas—buttocks, upper thighs, a lighter swat directly over her now-reddened and glistening pussy.

The woman was clearly aroused. Her pussy was engorged and wet. Her breaths were ragged, and she moaned lightly.

Coop had given girlfriends friendly, fun spankings, but never anything this targeted and deliberate. And while he’d found those paddlings arousing, they hadn’t riveted him like this purposeful punishment did.

When Anton flipped the paddle and delivered a sharper slap to Britney’s ass with the waffled side, Coop forgot to breathe. The woman jerked and moved her buttocks side-to-side to evade the harsher blows that landed in rapid succession, but again, she made no complaints. Her skin became deeply flushed and fluid trickled down her inner thighs. When Anton paused his strokes to trail his fingers through her soaked folds, Britney whimpered.

“Such a dirty slut,” Anton said, his soft, approving tone at odds with his harsh words. “Such a pretty, slick pussy.” He flattened his hand and gave her pussy a slap.

The crowd around Coop was so quiet the wet slap felt more intimate, felt closer—as though he were standing next to Anton. Suddenly, he wished he was. Coop sucked in a deep breath at the realization.

Anton strode back to the cart, placed the paddle on the cover and wheeled the cart closer.

Flames had melted the uppermost inches of wax atop the glass-enclosed candles. There was a red, a blue and a green candle. And Coop knew exactly what Anton intended before he reached for the red candle. He was going to make Britney burn.

Coop drew in a swift breath and his body tightened.

Moira tugged Coop’s sleeve, and he leaned down, giving her his ear.

“The level of heat depends on how high he holds the candle,” she whispered. “He won’t cause her any more pain than what she wants. He won’t really hurt her.”

Coop nodded, although now that Moira had drawn his attention again, he stayed bent toward her, aware of her shortened breaths as he’d never been before with another woman. Moira appeared enraptured by Anton’s sensual torture, something that made Coop’s body tighten even more and his heart race. Her growing arousal seemed to tug his right along.

The first drops of hot wax fell over the highest curve of Britney’s ass, and she cried out and jerked upward, pulling against her restraints. However, Anton ignored her distress and continued to drip wax, coating her fleshy buttocks with a thin dripping curtain that followed the curve of her lush bottom, and then dripped it down the backs of her thighs.

He put down the red candle and picked up the blue. This time, he reduced the height, but the blue wax fell on the hardened red wax, not stinging the skin but keeping the wax in the first layer warm. He coated both buttocks and then dripped wax into the hollow at the small of her back, making Britney hiss and moan. Her bottom eased eagerly side-to-side. Red and blue mixed into fiery purple that framed either side of her bright-pink, engorged pussy.

When Anton picked up the green, Coop grew still. Something in Anton’s expression, the narrowing of his eyes, the deepening curve of his mouth, alerted the watchers he was about to push his submissive harder.

He dripped the wax over the center of her buttocks, letting it drip slowly down her crack. Her hiss was harsh and instant. The tightening of her asshole was visible. For a moment, the wax puddled there and then ran down again. Another drop trickled between her slick folds that were so wet the wax slid to the platform between her spread knees.

Britney sobbed; her shoulders shook. Still, Coop wasn’t moved to make a sound to intervene. He stood rigid, anticipation gripping his entire body. Her thighs shivered, but her ass began to move in tiny pulses up and down and then tilted upward to capture the next thin stream of wax that trickled down her crack. This time, the wax followed the curve of one side of her labia.

“
Ah
,” Britney sighed. “Oh God, Anton…Anton.”

Anton tilted the candle upward, cutting the wax. “What did you say?”

Britney’s response was a groan and then a slurred, “Sir, I spoke out of turn.”

“Yes, you did, sweetheart.” He tipped the candle and gave her more of what she obviously craved, coating her sex. Moments later, Anton gave her leg a pat, a signal, because in the next breath Britney came, keening loudly.

Shock at the fact she’d come without being rubbed or fucked, but from the painful heat, shivered through Coop. At her final cry, he blinked. He was brought back to where he was and the fact the woman beside him with her catlike features was pursing her lips to hide a smile. He cleared his throat and glanced around, looking for another avenue of escape, but the crowd was dissipating too slowly. “That was interesting,” he muttered, but quickly added, “But this isn’t for me.” God, he was a fucking liar.

The corners of her mouth fell a fraction. “How disappointing,” she murmured—so softly he almost didn’t hear her. “Like I said before, it’s not for everyone.”

Coop’s gaze went to the stage again. Anton was gone. A man wearing a leather thong was peeling away sections of hardened wax from Britney’s pink buttocks. “I don’t understand why she would put herself in that position.”

“What? Bent over a bench with her ass pointing toward a crowd of strangers?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Anton’s been working with her, obviously, earning her trust. It’s not like he hasn’t been building her up to this moment.”

There was a hint of bitterness in her voice. But Coop was overfilled with emotions and didn’t want to think about why the beautiful woman beside him seemed upset, although she was fighting hard to hide it. “But for what purpose? Why does she need to be built up to do something like this?”

Moira’s mouth twitched. “You’re not going to understand. But some subs need to be pushed—beyond pain, beyond humiliation—to find something raw and primitive and real. It’s not just about pleasure or sex. It’s about what they are at their core.”

Coop had to fight curving his hands into fists. “You’re right. I don’t understand, but I can see what Anton gets out of it.”

“Do you really?” She shook her head, her expression doubtful.

His response had disappointed her again, he could tell because her mouth was straightening into a narrower line. He waved a hand toward the stage, anything to get her from giving him that look, like he was a damn liar. “Is that something you enjoy?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Not so much the public display. I’m a bit of screamer.”

He blinked but assumed she was joking because her grin eased back. Still, her quip had put an image in his mind that was pretty hard to erase—her trussed up, her pretty bottom exposed and pink…

Coop shook his head. He wasn’t ready for this. “I think I’ve seen enough. Thanks for the tour.”

“You’re leaving?”

As quickly as he could. Unsettled to the point he was beginning to sweat, all he wanted was out of there.

“I’ll lead you out.”

“I can find my way. Thanks.” He knew he ought to offer his hand, give her a polite farewell, but he didn’t want to touch her. He was afraid she’d feel a tremor. So he kept his hands in his pockets, gave her a slight nod and strode away.

So he’d been rude. She likely thought he’d been put off by everything he’d seen, and part of him was. The part that had always been so careful with a woman revolted against treating a woman with anything less than gentle respect. It was what he’d been taught by his father, by his actions and his lectures about how to treat the opposite sex. But another part had felt as though a doorway had cracked open, letting in a sliver of dark delight.

Best to slam it shut right now. He’d felt something resonate inside him as he’d watched the couple on the stage. And although he’d never laid a harsh hand
or paddle
on a woman’s skin, he’d envied Anton’s freedom to do so.

Once outside and sitting in his car, he turned on the radio and dialed up the volume to drown out the memory of the sounds the woman had made as she’d climaxed. He’d never heard anything like it, a wild keening that had sparked a flush of heat across his skin. That Moira had been there, standing next to him, bothered him. He doubted she’d missed his fascination. Or his arousal.

Worse, he’d lied to her face when he’d told her this wasn’t for him. And she likely knew it. Probably thought he was a coward. But how could he admit to anyone, much less a stranger, that he’d wanted to trade places with Anton. That he’d wanted to apply hard strokes to a tender ass, wanted to make a woman squirm and beg and then run his hands over silky-hot skin.

That he’d felt a spark of instant lust at the sight of slim wrists restrained with rope made his stomach knot. He wasn’t that guy. The fact he’d been aroused by that and more, by the slow, steady drip of hot wax, made him wonder about everything he’d thought about himself. What the hell kind of man was he? What did his fascination make him? Simply human? Was it only curiosity? Or was he a perv with a secret need he wasn’t ready to admit?

He reached between his legs and gave his stiff cock a rub before adjusting himself. But there wasn’t any comfort to be found.

He wished he was as free and easy as Noah. Noah hadn’t seemed to think there was anything wrong with what was going on. Likely, he was eager to learn more. And Gage? He never knew what was going on inside Gage’s head because he was a very private man. If his curiosity was aroused, they might never know it.

Wrapping both hands tightly around the steering wheel, Coop leaned his head against the headrest and willed his body to relax. Better to forget about La Forge and pretty Moira. Forget about stinging strokes and hot melting desire. His life was already complicated. Too much so for him to sort through any additional baggage that involvement with Moira and her world might bring. Better to forget.

God, he wished he could.

Chapter Three

Moira rolled her shoulders to ease the strain and sighed. An ache had settled between her shoulder blades, probably brought on by rolling a three-hundred-pound man from the EMT’s gurney to the treatment-room bed. Not that she hadn’t had help, but after a long shift, she was tired.

She leaned her elbow on the nurse’s station and willed herself not to stare at the clock. She didn’t have much longer before she could leave. Her weekend could begin, and she was dying to rest, catch up on laundry and hit the club again on Saturday night.

Thinking about the club brought to mind the handsome firefighter she’d escorted through La Forge’s main salon the previous evening. She’d been unsettled by him. Excited but unable to say exactly why. She often assisted Pansy or Jenn when newbies showed up eager to explore. She was experienced in training both subs and Doms, a skilled switch, but at heart she was a sub looking to find the one man who could rule her heart.

Something about the dark-haired man with his sad eyes and hard face had made her pulse skitter and thud. But he’d been repulsed by what she’d shown him. Perhaps she should have whisked him away to a more private section of the salon to talk about what his needs were or show him something a little less shocking. But he’d given off such a strong vibe, she’d been drawn to him the instant she’d seen the way his gaze had darted over the crowd inside the salon, snagging on Mondo and his new sub. His body had straightened and he’d curled his hands tightly at his sides. A feral edge had hardened his jaw. Even if he wasn’t aware of what he really was, she’d certainly tuned in to it.

The way he’d watched Anton’s every move on the stage, the reddening of his features when Britney had keened wildly, released by Anton’s soft pat after he’d given her the punishment she’d craved… Well, Moira hadn’t missed Coop’s instant response. His nostrils had flared. His fingertips had curled as though he were the one who’d delivered strokes.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part.

“You’re not finished yet,” Doreen said, slapping her clipboard on the counter beside Moira.

Moira jerked and straightened. “I won’t look at the clock. Do we have long?”

Doreen flashed her grin, startling white teeth against dark skin. “If no one comes through the doors, we’re out of here in ten.”

No sooner were those words out of her friend’s mouth than the double doors at the emergency room’s entrance whooshed open. Two firefighters pushing a gurney entered.

Shock rattled through her. Despite the soot-covered faces, she recognized both men in an instant. Noah and Coop. Her gaze slammed into Coop’s. His blue eyes widened for a fraction of a second and then narrowed. His expression shuttered.

He didn’t appear happy to see her, and her stomach plummeted at his rejection.

“Guess I jinxed it,” Doreen muttered.

The two women rushed toward the gurney holding a woman who was covered in grime and choking behind an oxygen mask.

“Smoke inhalation. Kitchen fire,” Noah said.

“I’ve got it,” Doreen said, her dark gaze going from Moira to Coop. “Call for that intern. I’ll put her in twenty-two and start a drip.”

As Doreen and Noah wheeled the gurney to the treatment room, Moira stiffened her shoulders and tipped her chin toward the desk. She placed the call and then turned back to Coop. “Hi there,” she said and winced. Couldn’t she have come up with something better? Something less breathless? And where was her voice? Her throat had tightened like a rubber band around the words. She swallowed.

Coop grunted and aimed a glance around the open area, at the nurse’s stations, the treatment rooms. Was he looking for another escape route? Was her presence that annoying?

Moira cleared her throat. “Guess you know what I do when I’m not wearing my little schoolgirl outfit.” That was better and earned her a quirk of one dark brow. Her pulse did that little skitter and a hop, just like it had the previous night. Confidence returned with the barely perceptible blush she witnessed chasing across his cheeks.

“Didn’t know you were a nurse,” he said, his voice gruff.

“We barely made it past introductions.”

He drew a deep breath and released it between his pursed lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude last night…” His gaze dipped to her ID badge. “Nurse Blessing.” His lips twitched as he read her last name. “Moira really your first name?”

“Think I need a pseudonym at the club?”

He grunted again. A sound she rather liked. It was masculine. Succinct. And it wasn’t irritation tightening his jaw. His gaze was raking her frame.

Her scrubs were wrinkled but a dark blue that hid a multitude of sins. They also made her figure appear dumpy because the curve of her waist was hidden.

However, the narrowing of his gaze said he remembered quite well what her baggy clothing concealed.

Heavy tread and the whir of wheels behind her warned her that Noah was returning. She pasted on a smile and cast a glance over her shoulder.

Noah gave her a grin and Coop a sharp stare. “She’s going to be all right. And Doreen said you don’t have to stick around, Moira. She’s got it handled.” With a waggle of his eyebrows, Noah strode away. When he drew abreast Coop, he whispered loudly, “I’ll stow the gurney. Might take a minute or two.”

Moira and Coop remained quiet until the doors whooshed again.

Coop cleared his throat. “Uh, I usually ride on the fire truck. Noah’s cross-trained as EMT…and we were shorthanded today.”

“So your being here is pure serendipity.”

His gaze narrowed again, and she almost laughed. “Kismet. Fate.”

He shrugged. “It was dumb luck.”

“Whatever you call it, so long as you think it’s something…nice.” Moira took a deep breath and wished like hell she could stop her jabber mouth from jabbering quite so much.

Coop’s mouth twitched and then he released another sigh. “Look, I was giving you the straight stuff last night. That place…it’s not me.”

“I understand.” And she really did. Some guys needed privacy. Needed space to come to terms with their innermost needs. Some never dared explore them because they didn’t consider them safe or have a partner they were willing to risk.

Moira stepped closer until her chest nearly met his and raised her face. This close, she could see the crystal and navy of his irises right before his pupils dilated. His nostrils flared.

Her body responded to the signs of his heightened interest, softening and leaning closer. “You don’t have to learn about what you need, or what you are, at La Forge…”

His gaze whipped around, but they were alone. He dipped his head toward hers. “You offering me private lessons?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Can we do this a little more organically? Doesn’t have to be BDSM 101. It could be a dinner with a friend. We can talk. Get to know each other.”

His jaw eased side to side. “I just ended a relationship.”

Her chest constricted. “Were you in love?” she asked softly.

He shook his head.

And the regret she read in his eyes said he wasn’t proud of the fact he hadn’t found true affection with the woman. She relaxed. “Then there shouldn’t be a problem with dinner between new friends.”

“I don’t want complicated,” he whispered.

Another pang tightened her chest. He was warning her away. Telling her not to expect this to lead to anything.

But what she felt, being nearly scorched by the heat coming off his chest and stripped by his sharp gaze, couldn’t be denied. So she had to play this light. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t eventually realize the error in his thinking…

“Doesn’t have to be…complicated,” she said softly, lying through her teeth. She was already wildly attracted. Future Dom or not, she wanted to get to know him better. “I’m off for the weekend.”

His mouth curved into a crooked smile. “You inviting me to spend the weekend with you?”

Her own mouth curved. “Just telling you so you can work me into your schedule.”

“Ah.” He caught his lower lip between his teeth and then let it go. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. In the morning, my friends have a friendly game of football, beer follows. Then I’m free until Monday.”

“You inviting me to spend Saturday and Sunday with you?”

His gaze remained steady on her, his mouth was tight. “Just synching up our calendars.”

She raised a brow. “I like football.”

“Bring a lawn chair.”

She reached for a notepad and pen and slid them across the counter. “Tell me where. I’ll meet you there.”

He reached for it and hovered his hand over it for a moment while her heart stuttered. But he picked up the pen and quickly scribbled on the pad and handed it back. His gaze raked her again before he turned and strode away.

She watched him until the doors whooshed closed.

“Whew,” Doreen said from behind her.

She turned to see her friend fanning her face.

“Wasn’t just me burnin’ up in here,” she said with a sly twist of her full lips.

Realizing her cheeks were red, Moira laughed. “Looks like I have a date.”

“No, sweetie, you have a whole damn weekend with that hell of a hot fireman.” Her eyebrows shot up. “You two met before? And you didn’t tell me?”

Moira laughed. Doreen didn’t know about her extracurricular activities, not that she’d judge her. But some things were best kept quiet.

Doreen pursed her lips. “What about that handsome fitness trainer you been steppin’ out with?”

Moira carefully kept her eyes lowered. “Anton and I aren’t exclusive.” How did one explain a D/s relationship that wasn’t a romantic one? “And he’s working tomorrow.”

Doreen shook her head. “Hardly seems fair,” she said tsking as she strolled away. “Two handsome men…”

Moira wrinkled her nose. Anton could become an issue. Not that he wouldn’t understand. But what would the straight-arrow fireman think about her agreement with Anton?

Maybe she should have been honest. Told him up front. But they barely knew each other. Some things couldn’t be blurted. Things like getting naked and whipped by a Dom while seeking another deeper relationship with someone else wasn’t the norm in a vanilla world. Once she and Coop knew each other better, once he’d walked in her world for a while, then maybe she’d find the right way to approach what she really wanted. What she needed. Until then, Anton was still necessary. And he knew the score. He wouldn’t be hurt by her defection. All they had was a contract. One that could be broken with a single word. And despite her twinge of jealousy last night watching Anton work Britney over, she knew the score as well.

The word
uncomplicated
echoed in her mind. Her world was anything but. A knot settled in her stomach. She couldn’t leave Coop clueless for long, but she didn’t want to risk his walking before they had a chance to explore the possibilities. Anton could help them both.

The image of Anton dripping wax over a tender backslide flitted through her mind. He’d been so sexy the previous night while onstage delivering sensual torture to Britney, and then later, listening with a devilish curve of his mouth as she’d talked about having met someone.

He’d been doubtful. “A firefighter? Sweetheart, are you reaching? Guys like that—they aren’t usually wired like us.”

“Billy and Aiden are firefighters.”

“Aiden is a born Dom. Billy came into this because he loves Pansy.”

She’d pouted her lips and thrust up her chest, relishing the way his body hardened as his gaze skimmed over the flesh revealed between the winding ropes he’d used to restrain her arms against her sides. Soft nylon bit into her skin under and above her nipples. Not hard enough to hurt, but wound just tight enough to remind her she was at his mercy. Something she needed desperately after the wild seesaw of emotions she’d encountered with Coop. His quick departure from the club—and her—had somehow stung. They’d only just met. Why did she feel as though something precious had slipped between her fingers?

Her nipples spiked at the memory of the bulge in Coop’s pants that had grown while he’d watched the couple on the stage. Arousal trickled down her inner thigh.

Anton reached down and glided a finger between her folds. “Huh. That for me or for him?”

She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. He expected the truth. Always. Even when it embarrassed her. Her pussy tightened, making a moist sound. “Does it matter?”

Anton’s gaze narrowed. “It does since we aren’t about fucking. But you just met the man. Sure he’s even safe to be around?”

“Billy vouched for him. Said he’s been through a rough time. Lost his best friend in a fire. And Coop said himself he just ended a relationship.”

He rolled his bare shoulders. “So he’s looking for rebound sex. I don’t like it,” he said, his voice a low growl.

Moira lifted her chin, warning him not to make fun of her. “He’s looking to be loved, Anton. I can sense it in him.”

Anton’s eyelids flickered, but then he bent and kissed her forehead. “All I’m saying is take this slow. You don’t know him. You can’t know whether he’s what you need or whether there will be any compatibility beyond the fucking. You need someone who needs everything you’ll bring.”

She sniffed and nodded her head. He was right. Settling for something less, something vanilla would kill her soul.

He kissed her again, this time on the tip of her nose. “What was with the glares when I worked with Britney?”

Moira rolled her eyes. “You didn’t tell me you were working with anyone else. And since you used the wax, I know you’ve been doing it for a while. She wasn’t just a demo-girl you picked up on the floor.” She dropped her gaze because her jealousy embarrassed her. “I know we aren’t about fucking, but I was afraid for a second that you wouldn’t want to work with me anymore.”

Anton slid a finger down her cheek and his intense gaze bored into hers. “We have a friendship that goes beyond our contract, Moira. For as long as you need this, with me, I’m here for you.”

He chucked under her chin with a bent finger and jerked his head toward the bed in the corner of his private room in La Forge. “Now, go lie over the edge of the mattress on your stomach.”

He was using
the voice
. The one he reserved when subs were being shits and when she needed punishment, which obviously she did. He hadn’t liked her questioning him about Britney when the other sub wasn’t any of her business.