Burnin' Up Memphis: Firehouse 69, Book 1 (7 page)

Although he’d found his own dark pleasure while spanking her, he wasn’t sure he could stomach doing it often. “Is it something you have to have to reach orgasm?”

She shook her head. “My friend thinks it’s like opening a door. That I have to trust my partner enough to let it happen. That inside me, I’m always wondering if he’s going to turn on the pain or not. It keeps me…edgy…excited.”

He licked her seam, enjoying the way her cunt spasmed, tightening against his tongue. “Makes you wet,” he muttered.

He reached for the rope, loosening one side enough to release her hands. Then he turned her onto her back. Lying beside her, he smoothed a hand from her breast to her mound and kept his hand cupping it, warming it. He nuzzled her ear. “Would I be an ass to order you to blow me now?”

Her breath caught. “You would.”

“But you like that.”

“I do.”

He sat up and leaned against the headboard. Then fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her up. The sight of her, his tie tight around her eyes, head canted to ease his grip, pleased him. Maybe he was one of those who had a drop of Neanderthal somewhere back in his genetic line, but he liked her wince. Loved the way her neck arched and her breasts thrust out. The tips were erect. An invitation. He leaned toward her, tongued one and sucked it deep into his mouth, teething the base and sucking more of her breast inside until his mouth was filled and he was groaning with the pleasure.

Moira wished she could sink her fingers into her pussy. He already had her hot. Had her channel rippling, ready to accept his thrusts. But here he was, taking his sweet time as he burrowed against her breast, shaking his head like a puppy at a bitch’s teat, trying to take her deeper.

She wished she could see him sucking her there. She’d like to know his expression, figure out what he was thinking…about her…but knew he needed her blindfolded. It gave him the freedom to act out his fantasies, to experiment without having to worry about whether he betrayed any doubts or indecision. And it wasn’t as though she wasn’t delirious with the pleasure he was giving her.

When he pulled free, she was sobbing again, little whimpers at the end of each breath. Her breast felt ravaged, raw and deliciously used.

Slowly, he tugged her face downward. “I want it deep. I want to feel your lips pulling like a damn Hoover.”

She held back a smile and when her lips met the end of his cock, she latched on to him, greedy for a taste. But the hand in her hair only let her sink so far. So she teased him, rimming his head with her tongue, around and around, her lips fastening just beneath the ridge of his glans and suctioning gently, just enough, she was sure, to drive him crazy, but not enough to give him nearly the sensation he craved.

She was good at this. The best. Or so Anton had often told her, and he’d had plenty of women sucking him off to know.

He curved his fingers, pulling harder on her hair to the point tears burned her eyes and seeped into the silk, and then he slowly released her. “Use your hands. Touch my balls.”

Freed, she went to work, sinking down and then up, touching the back of her throat against his cock head before darting back. Yes, she could deep throat him, but she wasn’t hungry enough to try. Not just yet.

She came off him and trailed her tongue down his length, licking at his base. She moved on to his balls. They were as hard as steel Ben Wa balls and cloaked in a velvety sack. Her hunger built, and she licked and sucked them, drawing them into her mouth to tug and mouth until his thighs shifted and she knew he was ready for her to move again. Reluctantly, she let them pop free.

With a secret smile, she lifted them, bent lower until her cheek was against the mattress to lave the tender skin just behind his balls. She licked it, sucked it, leaving a love bite that made him jerk. Only then, when she was satisfied she’d tortured him enough, did come back to his cock.

She knew how she must look. Her mouth and the surrounding skin red and wet. She licked her lips, a slow swipe to draw his gaze and give him a moment to prepare before she bent over him, her fist holding him erect. She sank down his length, letting him glide slowly over her tongue and touch the back of her throat. She swallowed, once, twice, giving his head a sexy caress that had him sucking in a sharp breath. And then she opened her jaw, relaxed her throat and sank deeper, circling to take him inside her, all the way until her nose bumped his groin. Then up and down, up and down she went, her lips getting tighter and tighter. Her suctioning growing gradually in intensity until her cheeks and mouth ached with the effort.

But it was worth it. At last, his hips moved, lifting to spear her mouth. His hands roamed her head, fingers threading gently through her hair, tugging on her now and then as he lost himself to the pleasure.

Moira smiled inwardly, happy to please him, happy to serve, growing hotter and hotter as his scent filled her nose and his taste became the most favorite thing she’d ever savored in her mouth.

At last, she felt him sneak his hands under her mouth to ring his cock at the base, squeezing and groaning. Forestalling his orgasm. She licked his fingers, and he laughed. “Enough. Jesus. Fuck.”

She lifted her head, waiting. He tugged off her blindfold, and she blinked in the brightness of the room.

His cheeks were red, his jaw so tight she’d bet he could chew nails. His acute need was apparent. And she was a nurse, wasn’t she? She soothed away aches.

“Sir, would you like me to ride you?”

His chest billowed, but he held out his arms.

She climbed over him, sliding her breasts up his belly, landing against the nest of soft hair on his chest. She rubbed against him, enjoying the gentle chafing.

“You know you’re killing me?”

She gave him an impish grin. “I was that good?”

“An unexpected treasure.”

She doubted he ever talked to a woman so poetically, so she believed his compliment. “I love your cock.”

“Mind giving it some relief?”

She wrinkled her nose. “The vigorous kind, or something slow and melting?”

“I’ll leave it up to you for a while.”

She made a show of reaching down for his cock, of lifting herself high to fit him against her. She let her head fall back and her hair feathered her back and his thighs before she landed against his groin.

The feel of him, so hard and so deep, filling her empty space so completely, made her next breaths ragged.

Hands cupped her breasts. Callused palms. She jounced once on his cock and gave him a desperate look. “I don’t think I can do this. I can’t…” Hell, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but quiver. Her pussy clenched hard around him and then released, already pulsating. She was close. Too close.

He clamped a hand on her shoulder and squeezed her clit. Giving it a hard pinch. The sting arrested her orgasm.

Rearranging his knees, he bent toward her while keeping her pinned with his cock. He took her down to the bed.

Moira moved her legs, opening them, lifting them, letting them fall as wide as she could manage while her toes curled in the air.

Already deep, he jerked up inside her and began grinding. Friction built a quick, hot fire and juiced up her channel. At the next spill of moisture, he pulled out halfway and thrust forward. His strokes began steady, slow, deliberate. Too measured.

She met his glance, took in his tight jaw and knew he was barely holding on. She kissed his mouth, his cheek, nuzzled his ear. “I’m there, Coop. Right there,” she whispered. “And it’s going to be huge. I promise. Best ever.”

His thrusts quickened and he pushed up, his chest hovering as he pounded her below. Not that she didn’t mind the distance. She liked the view. Loved watching his glistening, thick cock sink again and again inside her. His chest and abdomen fascinated her too. The effort he expended caused the muscles to tense, displaying his male perfection. Unable to resist, she roamed her hands over him.

“Rub your clit,” he growled.

She shook her head. She’d come too fast. The pounding was another punishment, another form of spanking that heightened her pleasure, sent nerve endings tingling.

“Frig your clit or I stop.”

“No,” she groaned. She was too close.

But his expression was implacable. She reached down a hand and slid a finger atop her clit. It was swollen and hot. Rigid to the touch. She brought her finger to her mouth, wet it and did as he’d asked. Frigged it while he watched her, while he pounded harder and faster inside her pussy.

She couldn’t stop herself. She told him so.

“Not yet, baby. Not yet.”

Her head thrashed. “I’m there…fucking there. Please, Coop. Please, Sir.”

“No!” It was a husky bellow, strained.

She rocked her head again, staring up at him. He hammered her with his teeth bared. And then his eyelids dipped, his breath hitched. “Now. Come now.”

In an instant, she came hard, her back bowing. Her fingers drifted to his hips and scraped over his ass to feel the power behind of his final thrusts. Her head felt as though it was exploding, her breathing stopped and she keened between clenched jaws.

Her orgasm was painfully hard, deliriously beautiful. The end…a splash against concrete.

His arms were beneath her, holding her against his chest. His mouth was kissing her hair, her ear, her cheek. When his mouth found hers, their lips rested, not greedy, replete. Until finally, they shared a lazy, sensuous blending of lips.

Coop came up on his elbows and stared down at her. “You okay?” he asked, framing her face with his hands.

Her smile was feeble, she knew, but she could barely keep her eyes open. “Demolished,” she said. “Best fuck ever.”

His grin was wolfish as he waggled his eyebrows. “I have a confession to make.”

Her mouth quirked. “You’re secretly gay?” she said slyly.

“Not even bi,” he growled.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she teased. “I’d share.”

“I wouldn’t.”

She felt her smile freeze, reminded she had an obligation to fully disclose her prior arrangement with Anton. “We still have tonight and tomorrow, right? You don’t have any other plans?”

His eyelids drifted halfway down. “No. What do you have in mind?”

More than he could ever envision, she was sure. Her gaze fell to the finger that traced his flat brown nipple. “I have this friend. She owns a lake house we can use. I have a key…”

Chapter Seven

Coop couldn’t help but notice something was bothering Moira. She seemed uncomfortable, restless. Given they didn’t know each other that well, something he was determined to change, he didn’t ask what was on her mind. He’d give her some space.

Again, she glanced at his profile and bit her lip. “I can’t do this,” she said, tears glittering in her eyes before she looked away.

They were minutes from Horseshoe Lake, their destination, although she hadn’t given him a specific address. Slowing, he found a gravel road leading to a fenced gate and pulled in, placing the car in park before he turned to her.

“Have you changed your mind about spending the weekend with me?” he asked. He hoped for anything but that. The time they’d spent on his bare mattress had been the best sex of his life. And he liked her. Really liked her. Her looks, her humor. The way her silver eyes glinted when she turned her head to the side as she stared back at him…

Was this love? Was he falling for her? He almost snorted. Now he sounded like Danny, who’d fallen for Melody on their first date. But now he understood. Completely. He reached for the hand she had curled into a fist atop her thigh. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to tell you something,” she said softly. Her gaze dropped to their entwined hands.

“You can tell me anything. I won’t be angry.” He couldn’t promise he wouldn’t be hurt. Especially if she said she wanted to go home.

“I haven’t been completely open with you.”

His gaze sharpened. She’d lied to him? He couldn’t imagine anything so bad he couldn’t forgive, unless… “Are you married?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Uh. No.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath, remembering the LT’s phrase. “Rip it off like a Band-Aid, baby.”

She released her breath in a slow exhalation. “Do you remember Anton?”

“The guy at the club?” He relaxed. She was about to tell him they’d been lovers. He didn’t care. Hell, he’d already guessed that by the way she’d been watching him so closely.

“He’s my Dom.”

He sucked in a breath. “He was your Dom.”

“No. Is.” Her gaze met him from beneath a fringe of lashes. “We’re not lovers, if that’s what you think.”

He shook his head. “Not lovers.” He knew he sounded stupid, repeating her words, but he couldn’t quite grasp what she was saying. “Not lovers. Have you fucked?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to fuck him again?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t think you’d allow that.”

“Damn fucking straight.” He let out a pent-up breath. Looked like they had more to say to each other, and he wanted to know what she’d meant by
I don’t think so
, but first, he needed her naked and under him. “That all?”

She gave a vigorous nod but still looked nervous.

“How far to the lake house?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Long enough.”

He turned forward, switched on the car, and then gave her a hard look. “Take off your jeans and your panties. And then I want you to finger yourself until we get there.”

Her frown was adorable. So was the way her lower lip protruded.

“Your upholstery will get wet.”

“I don’t care about the upholstery,” he said slowly, holding her gaze.

Her tentative smile told him she’d understood he was saying that they were all right. That he didn’t give a damn about her old Dom/boyfriend/whatever-the-fuck he was. And he had plans to prove it to her. Once he was done, she’d never need the bastard’s flogger on her ass again. He’d buy his own. Make sure he got some lessons from Billy. On the sly. He didn’t think he’d like all his buddies knowing he was learning to paddle a woman properly so she’d fall in love with him.

Moira wished she’d had the nerve to tell him the rest. That they wouldn’t be spending the weekend alone. Her worry over his reaction caused her more frustration than her swirling finger. But it was too late to mention it. “Turn here,” she said, wincing because Anton’s truck filled the driveway.

“You better cover up.”

“Don’t have to,” she whispered. “He’ll understand.”

Coop’s eyes widened and he swung his head toward the front porch of a large log cabin. Anton the Dom stood in the center, waving.

“You couldn’t have mentioned he was joining us?” he muttered under his breath.

“I didn’t know if you’d still want to come.”

“Oh, I want to come,” he said again, not worrying his words were biting. “Your little kitty sounds have had me hard the past five minutes. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be watching us fuck.”

“He’ll only watch if you want him to.”

His gaze hardened. “I don’t want him to.”

“Don’t be so quick to decide.” She opened the door and slid out of the car while he watched through the window as she strode half naked up the steps, bold as brass, and straight into Anton’s waiting arms.

For his part, Anton’s expression didn’t change, although Coop did detect the light of challenge in his dark eyes as he stared at Coop. Coop wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into. But he wasn’t giving up his claim. Whatever Moira thought she needed from this guy, he’d provide it.

He yanked open his door and stomped toward the couple. Anton smiled, big white teeth gleaming. At least his hair wasn’t spiked like a saw today. It was pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head, which concealed much of the shaved sides. But his eyes were still rimmed with eyeliner.

Anton held out his hand. “Welcome.”

Coop wanted to ignore the hand, but more than that, he wanted the other man to pry his hand off Moira’s waist. They shook, and Coop gave him a hard squeeze until Moira cleared her throat.

Her gaze dipped to her naked lower half. “Can we take this inside?”

Coop released Anton’s hand and held his out to Moira. She took it, moving quickly from Anton’s side to his. Coop gave the other man a thin smile.

Anton led them inside the house. “Jessica said we’re free to play with the furniture.”

Coop didn’t get his meaning until he stepped deeper inside the living room. The blonde from the club was tied to an X-shaped cross, arms and legs tethered by thick black straps to the beams, and completely nude.

Maybe he was getting used to the fact these folks didn’t have any inhibitions about nudity, and maybe he was starting to enjoy it himself, but other than a quick admiring glance because she was a beautiful woman, he didn’t have to drag his gaze back to Moira. “This what you were nervous telling me?”

“It was part of it.”

Coop raked a hand through his hair. “There’s more?”

“Anton’s offered to train you.”

“You think I need training?” So what if he’d been thinking he needed lessons from Billy, he wasn’t about to accept them from her Dom/boyfriend.

“He’s not my boyfriend. Never has been. There’s no need to be jealous.”

“But you’ve fucked.”

She nodded.

“You fuck men you don’t want to have relationships with,” he said evenly, keeping his emotion out of his tone.

“We have a relationship. He’s my Dom.”

“End it.” He sucked in a deep breath. He hadn’t meant to be that blunt. Didn’t have the right to demand a thing of her. They’d only fucked once themselves. Okay, so the fucking had lasted hours, but… Coop shook his head.

“Confusing, isn’t it?” Anton said with a grin.

“Don’t do that.”

“What? Smile?” At Coop’s curt nod, he chuckled. “Want to plant your fist in my face? I don’t mind you trying.”

He said it with such a cheerful candor Coop’s shoulders dropped. “You’d clean the floor with me, wouldn’t you?”

“He’s a MMA fighter,” Britney called out from the cross.

Anton’s grin widened. “Don’t have to be big to be badass.”

Coop slumped into a chair, still holding Moira’s hand while she stood beside him. Her pussy was level with his face. Had the whole world turned upside down?

“The nudity is something you’ll get used to.” Anton lifted his chin toward Britney who fluttered her fingers at Coop. “But it’s part of the discipline. A form of humiliation that quickly loses its sting unless you’re willing to up the stakes.”

“Was showing her pussy to the crowd at the club upping the stakes?”

Anton nodded. “Exactly. She’d earned a punishment. I gave her what she needed.”

“I can’t do that to Moira.”

“Because you can’t share her like that?”

Coop wanted to say it was because he respected her too much, but he knew Anton would know better. He was jealous of the thought of any other man seeing her intimate parts. Like he was this very minute.

“I’m not staying for the whole weekend,” Anton said, his smile fading. “I was just teasing you, but Moira wanted you to know about me.”

“She could have just said she’d been seeing you.”

“But you wouldn’t have understood. We’re not lovers. Not in love. We’ve shared sex, but only during training or scenes.”

“Training. Scenes. Like the one you and…” He pointed to the blonde.

“Not like that one,” Moira said quickly.

“Because you’re a screamer,” Coop said, letting a little of his bitterness bleed into his tone. Well, he’d made her scream.

Anton sighed. “Coop, Moira doesn’t date. She doesn’t have sex outside the club.”

Coop’s glance cut sideways. Moira’s head was dipped, her cheeks pink. His disgruntlement ebbed away. Again, he shut down the noise in his head, the angry stirring of bees to really listen. “Why not? She’s beautiful. What man wouldn’t want her?”

Anton’s gaze locked with his. “If you’ve already made her come, you know exactly why.”

Because she needed pain, and not every man would understand how to deliver it without really hurting her or scaring her. The realization froze his blood.

Coop stood, turned to Moira and slowly pulled her against his chest. “You don’t tell guys what you need, do you?”

She hid her face in the corner of his shoulder. “Can you imagine me asking a guy to spank me? To gag me? Or tie me up?”

His body grew rigid at the idea. Steeled against the certainty. “Anyone ever hurt you?”

“Once. He thought I wanted to be abused.”

He held her tightly and glanced over to Anton, who was watching them closely. Everything inside him had been so sure he understood what this was all about. Now he felt like a fool. He’d come very close to blowing this. Learning everything he needed to know about how to be with her would require this man’s help.

Coop cleared his throat, and even though it nearly killed him, he asked, “Can you two stay for the weekend? Can you teach me?”

Anton’s smile was slow. “I’ll show you some flogging techniques. How to operate the furniture,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows, “but I don’t have to teach you what it takes to be a Dom. Her Dom. You’re already there.”

He strode away, ostensibly to check on Britney’s restraints.

Coop reached down to gently rub Moira’s ass, his fingers gentling over every raised inch. “What did he mean? I don’t know a damn thing about all this.”

Moira leaned back to smile up at him. “You know me, Coop. You’re willing to experiment. To pay attention to my cues. You’ve already given me the best orgasm any man has ever managed to wring from me.”

“Your ass is pretty tender,” he said gruffly. “What other kinky things make you happy? Please tell me there’s something else.”

“I like to be watched,” she whispered.

His lifted his gaze to Anton, who gave Britney a pat on her thigh and then ambled to a low-backed sofa where he sat, hands clasped behind his head. “Should have made popcorn.”

They were serious. Funny, the thought didn’t bother him so much. “No scoring my moves.”

“Mind a little coaching?”

Coop grunted. Actually, he didn’t mind one bit.

Coop tugged at the chains attached to the manacles around his wrists. “This really necessary?” It was late Sunday night. After a day filled with lessons concerning the application of floggers and paddles, both applied to Britney’s unmarked ass, he was pretty sure he had the gist of it. This seemed like overkill. A chance for Anton to give him a little payback for being an ass when they’d first met.

“How do you expect to truly understand what she feels if you don’t ever experience the joy of a good spanking yourself?” Anton asked, his voice silky and amused now that Coop couldn’t retaliate.

Coop had thought his humiliation was already complete. After all, he was completely nude and Anton had placed a leather harness over his cock, handling his dick like he handled a man’s junk every day. Coop’s cheeks were flushed. “You aren’t going to spank my ass.”

“Do you really have a choice in the matter?” Anton’s eyebrows gave a waggle, but then he shrugged. “I’m going to let your woman have the honor. She’s good. She won’t slap your balls too hard.”

Coop swore. “Who said anything about slapping my balls?” He twisted to glare behind him. “Moira?”

She was standing there, looking like a wet dream. Naked from the tops of her thighs up. Her legs were encased in shiny black boots with tall heels. When she walked toward him, a riding crop in her hand, his stomach dropped with a thud. She struck the patent leather with the end of the crop, producing a sharp sound that made his dick jump. “What about the flogger?”

“What about it?” she asked, trading the crop for the flogger and touching his shoulder with the end of it, and then moving it downward over his back, causing gooseflesh to rise. When she got to his ass, she gave him a light tap.

He gave an unmanly gasp and then tightened his lips. “This is my first time,” he said between clenched teeth, pretending calm when all he could imagine was the shit he’d get the next day in the showers when he bared a striped butt.

Moira’s gaze narrowed on him, but then she shrugged and gave him an impish grin. “Gotcha scared, don’t I?”

Indeed. He shook his head and faced forward, reminding himself he could trust her with anything, especially the wellbeing of his balls, seeing as she loved them so much.

He reached up, gripped the chains and cleared his mind, relaxing his body. Everything she said she did when she entered a scene. The first stroke felt like a feather duster brushing his ass. One side of his mouth quirked up. He could take this. Piece of cake.