Sizzle (St. Martin Family Saga): Emergency Responders (3 page)

When they did reach the window, the ladder was there. The glass had been blown out, and he was easily able to climb out with the child.

When he felt the cleansing fresh air on his face, he breathed deep. He thought his eyes were watering from the smoke and his throat felt thick and knotted. He shook it off. As the ladder descended, he looked over the boy in his arms. His exuberance caused a heavy weight to settle on his chest. He felt close to tears but didn’t want to alarm the child. “What’s your name, huh?”

“Dooper.”

Clay hitched a brow. “Dooper? That’s different”

The boy squealed in laughter. Then he leaned into Clay and clearly enunciated. “Cooper.”

“Ah, Cooper.”

The boy looked around as they were slowly lowered to the ground. Tenants and other bystanders cheered with whistles and claps as Clay exited the ladder bucket with the child in his arms.

The paramedics were ready to receive them but couldn’t get close because the boy’s mother ran up and grasped her son while her free arm pulled at Clay’s neck so hard it made him lean into her.

“Cooper! Oh my God, thank you.” She kissed her son’s head and then she kissed Clay’s cheek.

Ace walked by, reminding him that he needed to speak to Keith right away. He’d heard over the radio that the kid had made it out, and he was relieved, but he’d felt helpless, one man torn between saving two individuals when he couldn’t possibly save them both. And Keith would be hearing about that, about Clay’s fury and helplessness. Mostly about Clay’s fury. And his disappointment in the probie.

“Ma’am.” He nodded at the baby’s mother. “Cooper, you’re a brave boy.” He tousled his hair and Cooper reached for him. He took the boy in his arms and hugged him tight.

When they pulled apart, Cooper pointed to the building and said, “Fire.”

Clay looked toward the apartment. “That’s right, it’s on fire.” The boy kissed his cheek, and Clay handed him off to Jackson, who was ready to check him out, and then Clay jogged over to the engines.

“Say, Ace, have you seen Keith?”

“Over on the far side of the building.” He pointed with his chin.

When Clay found him, the kid was leaning with his hands propped against the brick wall, retching little more than spittle and dry heaves. He’d already hurled his guts—the meal he’d served so elegantly—to the ground.

“What happened in there?”

“I got scared, man. I hesitated.”

Clay removed his helmet. “Yeah, nothing wrong with getting scared. But you didn’t trust me. I told you to fucking stay right beside me. Had you been following my goddam orders, you wouldn’t have had time to think about going in or not.”

Keith spat on the ground and water sluiced down his face. He wouldn’t look at Clay.

Clay turned but he was so pissed, venom ran through his veins. He whirled and stomped back toward the kid.

“Today you were lucky. But if you’d been in trouble, I wouldn’t have been able to focus on both you and the child. If I don’t know where you are, I can’t waste valuable time searching when there are others to rescue.” Clay slammed a fist against the wall. “You little shit, you drew my focus away from the child.”

Keith shrugged. “I get it.”

Clay pushed at Keith’s shoulder, turning him so he’d have to look Clay in the eye. “I don’t think you do. The average person goes to work every day and never once thinks about losing his life. In this job it’s something we think about whenever there’s a call. And you know why? We think about it because it can so easily happen.”

“Yeah, well, you had it all under control. You’re a fucking hero.”

“You’re goddamn right, and if you ever wanna be a fucking hero, you’ll do what I say. Keep your head in the game, and we’ll all be better off.”

Keith’s eyes were on Clay now and they went from wide to beady. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re too goddam cocky. You don’t respect authority or the lives of others. What pisses me off the most is that your death would have been on my hands.” He pushed into the kid’s space and squared his shoulders, calling on every inch of his height. Keith’s jaw dropped as he looked up.

“You’ll sit out the rest of the week.” His voice was quiet and flat. “If at any time you’re out of arm’s reach of the engine, you’re out for good. Do you hear me, probie? And if I for one moment guess that your cocky attitude at this moment comes from anything other than covering up your fear, you’re out. You make a mistake in this field and someone dies. The rules are simple—don’t break up the team. That’s it. You broke protocol and you broke my trust. I’m not sure it can be rebuilt.”

As he turned to walk away, Clay heard the kid vomit again. The dressing down was for his own good. Clay understood being scared—shit, he’d been scared plenty of times—but the kid would need to figure out now if he could stomach the job or not. Lives couldn’t be risked as he sorted out his shit. He’d come around, but until he was ready, he’d sit out.

Clay was wound up tight and craved the only thing that could bring him release. He knew what he needed, where he could get it, and knew he needed it now. After his shift, he’d be making a visit to the Hoodoo Pot, Baton Rouge’s most elite members-only sex club.

***

2

T
hat night Clay
was dressed in his only pair of distressed jeans and a threadbare cotton shirt that had proven to drive the ladies wild. He was en route to the Hoodoo Pot, with plans to meet his best friend, Augie, at the club.

Clay spotted Augie at the bar, a woman hanging on to each arm.

“How’s the sheriff of East Baton Rouge feeling tonight?”

Augie turned and extended his hand. Clay shook it while the girls smiled and eyed him up and down and up again. “There’s the fire chief. Clay, meet Alexis and Brianna.”

One of the girls placed her hand on his chest while the other clasped her palm to his neck. He sidestepped to shake the intimate contact.

“Easy there, we’ve got all night.”

Alexis cooed. Brianna looked up from beneath fake lashes and placed the tip of her index finger between her teeth.

Augie nodded. “I understand Brianna here likes to be bound.”

She smiled around the finger between her teeth. Clay felt his cock twitch. Now he was having to remind
himself
to take it slow because they had all night and he intended to release some pent-up frustration. To calm himself, he took in his surroundings.

The red walls of the club combined with the syncopated techno beat always made Clay think of a womb. The bar was black, with buttoned-leather detailing, and the chairs were the same style, only red leather. The place looked like it had been hosed down in cherry Jell-O.

“How ’bout we take over one of the booths.” Augie nodded in the direction he intended to steer and handed Clay a draft of Good Doctor Pancreas Beer. Good Doc beers were the invention of one of Clay’s brothers and named in honor of his days in med school. The beer was damn good, and Logan had finally gotten it on tap at a few bars in Baton Rouge. Clay was proud of his brother’s success with the brewery and with his personal life. Each of his brothers seemed lucky, newly in love, leaving Clay the exception, a fact that had him thinking too much about his future lately. Several times he’d concluded that if all he ever had were club women, he would make the sex count.

He sat on the red leather, U-shaped booth, and Brianna sidled up next to him.

“So you’re a fireman.” She squeezed his biceps with soft fingers. “That’s my favorite profession.”

It was the same thing every time. The women loved doctors, cops, firemen, and men in power jobs—lawyers and politicians. Or at least they said they did. The girl clinging to him was attractive enough with her bottle-blond hair and tight strapless dress, and he wondered what her story was. Everybody there had a story. Him included.

“I haven’t seen you in here before.”

“Alexis and I drove in from Arkansas.”

“Welcome.” He offered a slight smile. “You know what I do, but I don’t know what you do.”

She scoffed. “Are you feigning interest in me? Because you really don’t have to do that. Say the word, and you can do whatever you want. Augie said you’ve been doing this for years.”

“I have and trust me, I’ll have you trussed up like a blushing maiden at a renaissance fair in a matter of minutes. But tonight I also feel like a leisurely drink and maybe a little conversation.”

Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip as she eyed him intensely. Then she pulled a narrow vial from her too perfect cleavage and opened it. A little white pill popped into her hand.

“What the hell is that?”

“Relax, big guy.” She slung it into her mouth and then had a swig from her wine glass. “It’s prescription Xanax.” She held the vial up. “Would you like one? Might help you relax.”

His shoulders tightened. “No.”

“Well, you definitely could use some pharmaceutical intervention.”

Okay, he officially did not like this chick.

She leaned into him and whispered, “I’m a rep. I’ve got you taken care of.”

He pulled away and pushed his palm out. “No, you don’t. I’m good.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

Clay looked at Augie, who was immersed in his full-on game of cocky, flirtatious big city sheriff. He had his gun out and was teaching the dark-haired Alexis how to aim. Every once in a while he’d lean in and whisper something that had her emitting a high-pitched squeal that Clay swore could shatter bulletproof glass.

As he took a swig from his beer, he hoped Augie set this up according to his parameters. Tonight of all nights he didn’t want surprises. The club had strict rules. If the girls were in, that meant they’d submitted to and passed a physical and medical examination, but had this girl checked out his dossier?

“So you read my profile?”

She nodded and sat up straighter in a pose he imagined she used in professional settings. “You’re not fond of talking, which is why this is so odd. I had in mind someone who would just sweep me off my feet and get down to business.”

Clay choked on a swallow of beer. Sweep her off her feet? He certainly hoped she didn’t imagine a little sex would lead to a happily ever after with a guy she met at the club. Especially not with him.

Brianna took his beer and set it on the table at their knees, smiling.

Damn, usually getting down to business was exactly what he did, what he wanted, but tonight when he’d walked in, he’d felt a little indifferent. As if he knew what he wanted wouldn’t be found at the Hoodoo Pot tonight.

Brianna patted his back, her blows too soft to be effective if he’d really needed her help. “You okay?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Let’s see… you don’t like talking”—she ticked the items off on her fingers—“no screaming, no postcoital care, no virgins, you like it hard and rough, and most important, you like to bind your partner.” She looked him in the eye. “That about cover it?”

He nodded. No one had quite put it like that to him before but yeah, that covered it. Usually when he took women in the club, they would let him do what he wanted, their bodies disconnected from their minds, eyes glazed, empty vessels wanting to be filled.

Had he wanted a real connection tonight? He’d never wanted that before, so he didn’t think that was it. Still the thought of looking into soulless eyes while he pounded one out was not as appealing to him as it usually was.

He took a good look at Brianna. Pretty, long blond hair, strong jaw, athletic figure. He wondered again why she would consent to his demands. “Can I ask you why you want sex like that?”

She smiled and lowered her eyes. “I think I like the idea of being bound, helpless, because during the day I have a pretty aggressive job. I don’t want to have to be the aggressor during sex.”

“That makes sense.” He took her wine glass, placed it on the table, and pulled her toward him on the bench. His gaze was intense, unblinking, but he needed her to know he was serious. “I expect you to abide by my profile rules.” He took a keycard from his pants pocket. “Room 4. Go get yourself ready for me.”

When she stood to walk away, Augie caught his eye and nodded. Whenever he met Augie at the club, things were less intense. He assumed that Augie, whom he trusted explicitly, settled his nerves. Augie was easygoing and undemanding. Right now his index finger pointed up into the air while he held Alexis’s attention, probably regaling her with some made-up bullshit about the stars and astrology. Predictably, she giggled. Clay shook his head and stood.

***

By the time Clay got to the room he’d reserved for the evening, Brianna had done everything he’d laid out in his file. She was naked except for her heels. She didn’t speak when he entered, and he was immediately aware that the spark in her personality, present earlier, was gone. She stood, head down, next to the table that held the eight-piece restraint he intended to use on her.

Since the dawn of his membership at the club, he hadn’t wanted sex to be any other way. At thirty-five, he was convinced he‘d found the answer to his discontent. He worked hard as a fireman and wanted to fuck even harder. For him, a woman who could keep up was a key component of his philosophy. His needs were specific and anything but traditional. And not easily met just anywhere.

He’d been an active member of the Hoodoo Pot for over five years.

Clay had visited some hardcore clubs in Vegas—the local club was mild in comparison. And that was fine with him. His desires, once fulfilled, allowed him to conduct his daily life within the boundaries of acceptable society.

He bound the women in a variety of positions using the equipment available at the club. What he did amounted to binding and restraining, a hard fucking, and light slapping, if they wanted that. Most did.

He’d not had any luck finding a woman in the community who enjoyed taking it hard and rough while being restrained. To please him they would say they wanted to try being bound, to try rough sex without strings and affection, but afterward they’d cry and want to snuggle and, heaven forbid, maybe even want to talk about why he only wanted sex in that fashion. And then there was the issue of his girth. Most women were scared of his size, and so he revealed that in his profile just so there would be no surprises.

In the past, his worst breakups had the women spouting about his brand of loving all over town. It wouldn’t do if rumors ever got back to his family, so he’d had to devise an alternate way of getting his needs met. The club offered a perfect solution and hooked him up with women who wanted to be fucked in the manner he wanted to give it to them. And he didn’t have to worry about disease or pregnancy, because all members were subjected to monthly testing.

Clay looked to the narrow table that he’d be using. He motioned for Brianna to set her ass on it. He preferred Japanese bondage because of its aesthetic appeal, but at the club it just wasn’t practical—too time consuming and pretty intense for the woman. He didn’t want to deal with any aftercare, so he used a simple cable system.

He picked up a fur-lined cuff and slid it across her silky thigh. She slowly closed her eyes. He put one hand on her bare chest and the other on her back to brace her as he guided her down. The table was short, so she had to bend her knees to position her feet for leverage. Her head hung slightly off the end. It didn’t ever seem comfortable, but he’d learned the women who came to the club weren’t looking to be comfortable in quite that way.

He fastened the restraint cuffs to her wrists and ankles. Using straps attached to each ankle cuff, he tugged them behind her head, effectively pulling her legs wide and her knees up to her ribs. Her wide gaze darted from him to the cables. She seemed a little frantic, but he guessed it was because she was flat on her back, fully exposed, as a large and basically unfamiliar man loomed over her. He next fastened the wrist and ankle straps to D-ring hooks in the floor. With her ass hanging at the table edge and her legs spread, she was at his mercy, forced to sit and wait for whatever pleasure or pain he chose to bestow on her.

He would make her take him in her mouth first. He walked to the side of the table nearest her head, where he unfastened his pants and pulled out his cock, fisting it in his hand. Brianna tested her restraints as he arched her head until it hung off the table. He placed his hand around her throat and brought his cock to her mouth. He swirled the tip across her lips, and her tongue darted out to swipe at him. When she opened wide, he pushed through her lips. He pulsed in and out of her mouth with shallow thrusts while she moaned around him.

Truth be told, Clay had grown extremely bored. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, forcing his head back into the game. The woman with his dick in her mouth was pretty— beautiful even. When she increased the suction, he pushed his full length into her mouth. She was taking him in her throat—he could feel himself using the hand he had on her neck. Her eyes filled with liquid, and it wasn’t long before tears spilled over and ran into her hair. She gagged. He pulled out half his length, but the tears steadily streamed down. While some men might get off on that, whenever a woman became upset, Clay released her immediately. He pulled his cock free and then unfastened the restraints.

She sat up and wiped her eyes while he stuffed himself back into his jeans.

He crossed his arms and forced himself to stay calm. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head and inhaled on a gasp. “N-n-no.” Her voice was high pitched and squeaky.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know.” Her face contorted in a grimace, and she began to cry huge salty bullets.

He sat down next to her, not knowing what to say. “Have you actually done this before?”

A shaky hand covered her mouth as she coughed “No. I lied when I filled out the paperwork.” She stood. “I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Hey, don’t sweat it. Are you going to be okay?”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Yes. You’re a really sweet guy.”

Her whispered words bounced around in his head as her retreating heels clicked on the hardwood floor.

The women were supposed to be screened and prepared and ultimately ready for his needs. Hell, he’d been made to undergo training before he could become a member, and he knew the women did too. Still, had Brianna told him this was her first club experience, he wouldn’t have restrained her. He guessed that was why she didn’t mention it. He wasn’t a Dom—he didn’t know that lifestyle. He just liked sex to be a certain way and didn’t want to answer questions about why he enjoyed what was still widely considered taboo. While he wasn’t opposed to traditional vanilla sex, he’d come to learn he couldn’t have both bondage and traditional sex with the same woman. And he could survive without the vanilla, but not the mint chocolate chip.