FireWolf (2 page)

She rolled over and stretched lazily, showing about as much
consciousness of her naked body as a member of his wolf clan. Could she be? He
wondered for a moment. No. She smelled human, and besides, she’d be allied with
a clan if she was like him.

He watched her fingers drift to her nipples and begin to
pluck at them. Her eyes opened and a dreamy smile drifted over her face as she
found his gaze.

“You’ve still got it,” he told her. “Near stranger to lover
in less than twenty minutes.”

“Mmmm. I’m glad I stopped by.”

He looked down. “The hell with a few minutes, you’ve already
got me hard again, you witch.”

Banging at the breakroom door alerted him to the presence of
others in the firehouse. Somehow, Olivia had made him forget all about his
coworkers.

“Dude, c’mon! The game’s about to start!” shouted another of
the firefighters.

“I guess that’s our cue,” Olivia said ruefully.

“Sorry. They’ll just break the door down if I tell them to
leave. That new big-screen TV is calling.”

He gathered what was left of her clothes and handed them to
her then grabbed his sweats and hopped into them while trying to remember which
of the new cabinets held Ladder Company One T-shirts. When he found one, he
handed it to her. “Sorry I ripped your shirt.”

She nuzzled his nude chest for a moment. “Never apologize
for passion. It was seriously hot.”

“Yeah?” He scratched his chin.

“We’re going to do this again real soon, okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

She flicked one of his nipples. “I’ll call you.”

“Great. We can, ummm, do dinner?” She raised a perfect
eyebrow, as if sensing he wasn’t completely willing to pursue anything with
her. And maybe he wasn’t. Fucking Olivia Bilson was one thing, but dating her?
He doubted she was looking for that from him. “Or a booty call?”

She raised the other eyebrow.

He shrugged as the banging intensified. “I’ll think of
something.” After making sure they were both somewhat covered, he went and
unlocked the door.

Somebody sniffed at the air then his buddy, Duke, grinned at
him, though he was careful not to look at Olivia. Smokie realized the air was
loaded with the scent of sex. The last thing he did before following Olivia out
of the room was open a window.

When he shut the door behind him, he heard the guffaws of
his fellow firefighters. “Sorry about that,” he told Olivia.

She shrugged. “I asked for it. But in my defense, despite
all these years of visiting my cousin here, surrounded by his hot coworkers, I
never propositioned anyone until today.” She waved her fingers at him. “See you
around, Smokie.”

He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, trying to
look casual as her hips swung away from him. The best sex of his life and he
couldn’t find the words to invite her back to his place for round two.

* * * * *

Olivia smoothed her tomato-red jersey dress, which was low
cut enough to display the leather strap that was stretched between her breasts,
and checked her appearance in the mirror. Since she wasn’t wearing panties, the
material hugged her lower half like a second skin. A good thing, since she felt
ready to jump out of her flesh. The arousal and excitement and strange new pain
just killed her.

Sure, she’d intended her acrobatics with Smokie Monahan last
week to be a one-time deal and he probably felt the same way. He was too young
for her to consider him as more than a plaything, even if a mere glance at him
at firehouse social functions these past two years had made her pussy cream in
excitement. But then she’d stopped in at the Greek deli and restaurant at the
edge of town yesterday. Shamsky, a volunteer firefighter and deli employee,
hadn’t stopped smirking at her the entire time Asta, the owner, had been
preparing her takeout order.

He knew. She could tell from the way he muttered to Asta as
she’d left that she’d been a major source of gossip around the firehouse. Sure,
she’d pretended she didn’t care what they were thinking when she left the
breakroom that day, but she did. Men were worse than women about gossip.

Her mirror image looked a bit defeated, so she raised her
head and stared straight at her reflection. She was taking her power back from
men. Her hands crept to her breasts and she smiled.

The first step was to see if this thing with Smokie could be
more than a one-time hook-up. So, last night, glass of white zin in hand, she’d
called the firehouse and asked to speak to him then invited him over for
dinner. No bachelor would resist a free meal, unless the woman who was inviting
was thoroughly repulsive.

He’d said yes.

The doorbell rang and she widened her smile at the mirror,
flashing her freshly whitened teeth. As she stepped into heels and walked down
the steps, she rubbed her tense jaw with her fingers.

She hadn’t cooked for a man since her divorce eight months
before. And her ex had always said she was a terrible cook.

Her smile had all but dropped off her face by the time she
answered the door. Smokie stood on her porch, a tissue-wrapped bundle in hand.

His initial smile faded when he saw her expression. “Am I
too early? I can come back later.”

She pasted her smile back on, which wasn’t hard to do at the
sight of well over six feet of prime firefighter in front of her. God, he was
hot. “No. Sorry. I was thinking of something else. Are those for me?”

Smokie held out a rainbow bouquet of wildflowers. “Yes.
Thanks for inviting me.”

She took the flowers. “And thank you for coming. I’ll just
get these in some water.”

Smokie, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that had molded to
his chiseled torso, followed her down the hallway and through the swinging door
into the kitchen. Woefully out of date, just like the rest of the house, but
even with prices so low right now, this was the best she could afford with her
divorce settlement.

“Hasn’t been updated since the early eighties, I’m afraid.”
She gestured at the peeling burgundy-and-blue-swirled wallpaper. “I’ve focused
most of my efforts on the outside, so far.”

If she centered her attention on him instead of the room,
she could see they’d never get to dinner. Why was it that women felt the need
to dress up, but men definitely looked best in the most casual of clothes?
Those worn jeans were cupping him in all the right places. Firefighters prided
themselves on the hard bodies they needed to do their jobs and save themselves
from tricky situations. Smokie had trained himself into calendar-worthy
condition. Even his short black hair looked ready for action. How could she
ever have thought once with him was enough, even if the point had been to
bandage her bruised ego?

Heat pooled in her belly. How would he respond if she jumped
him, simply latched her legs around his waist and pulled him to the floor? Hey,
that might be a good thing, given her cooking skills.

“Are you going to remodel inside too?” he asked, seemingly
oblivious to the sexual drift of her thoughts. “The outside looks fantastic,
like the house is brand new.”

“Thanks. I already started with the upstairs bathroom.” She
raised her heels out of her high sandals to grab a crystal vase on a top shelf.
The movement had the skin of her breasts going taut against the breast binders
she wore. Her nipples hardened as the circular spikes bit deliciously into her
tender skin. She held back a tiny moan.

“Here.” She felt his fingers taking the base of the vase and
she released it to him.

“Thanks.” God, just the feeling of his calloused fingers
against hers almost gave her an orgasm.

“Sure. Doing all the work yourself?”

“Not the plumbing, but I can manage painting and tiles and
that kind of stuff. It’s kind of fun to get my hands dirty.” She turned around
and found him closer than she’d expected.

“That’s sexy,” Smokie said, staring at her chest. “I like a
woman who’s good with her hands.”

She blushed and held back the urge to rub against him. What
was she, in heat? “Speaking of hands, I’d better check the chicken. Could you
put water in that?”

“Of course.”

Behind her, she heard the faucet turn on as she opened the
oven and stuck the thermometer into her five-pound bird. She’d basted it in
butter and spices. Hopefully the recipe was foolproof.

Her menu included a bagged salad and pre-made garlic bread
from the store. No ambition here, just a solid meal. And one firefighter for
dessert.

As she closed the door, Smokie asked, “What are you smiling
about?”

She licked her bottom lip. “The difference between the
sexes.”

“Meaning what?”

She touched him lightly between the pecs. “I bet you didn’t
think twice about what to wear tonight.”

“And you did?”

She plucked at the side of her dress. “I’ll have you know, I
went on a special shopping trip for this.”

“You only invited me over last night.”

“Exactly. I’ve been in a tizzy all day and I’ll bet you’re
only thinking about a free meal.”

“Not exactly. That’s not what I’ve been thinking about at
all.” He put his hands around her sides, just under her breasts, slid them down
to her waist, and lifted her until she was sitting on the cold edge of her
double sink, the rounded metal divider between digging, not unpleasantly,
between the globes of her ass.

“Power move,” she said, feeling her breath speed up, as if
she’d been the one weight-lifting.

“What did you assume I was thinking about?” Smokie asked,
finding the hem of her dress and inching it north.

“Ummm, food?” she ventured, wanting to close her eyes, throw
her head back, and sink into the sensations of his rough fingers brushing her
legs.

His fingers found the tops of her calves, squeezed softly,
then moved to her knees and pulled them apart so he could nestle between them.
He pulled her closer, rubbing the sensitive insides of her ass cheeks along the
cold metal.

She felt herself grow damp against the cold surface, but she
was warm everywhere he touched her. His fingers were at her thighs now, still
lifting the fabric.

“How long until the chicken is done?” he asked, pushing the
vase safely to the side.

“Huh? Chicken?” He grinned, but she wasn’t sure why, lost as
she was in his amber gaze. “You have too many clothes on. And you’re really
tall.”

“All I have to do is unbutton and slide right into you,” he
murmured, when his fingers found the bare top of her hip. “Naughty girl. No
panties again.”

“I wanted to fuck you.”

He pulled back in what she could tell was involuntary
surprise and was afraid she’d gone too far, but then he laughed. “I want to
fuck you again too.”

She let out a breath. “Whew. That’s a relief.”

“What kind of bra are you wearing? I’ve been staring at it.”
He pulled down the top of her dress, imprisoning her upper arms in the jersey.
“Damn, girl, what’s that?”

She’d tightened the leather strap across her torso until her
small breasts were plumped together. As he stared, she tilted one of the round
disks, exposing the marks on her breasts.

He put his fingers to the top of one breast and stroked the
pattern. “Show me your nipples.”

“I can’t, you’ve got my arms trapped.”

His answering grin was devilish. “Forgot about that. You are
so sexy.” He bent and nibbled the curvy tops of her breasts. His teeth, along
with the sensation of the spikes, had her creaming.

When he came up for air, he pulled down her dress so she
could undo the strap of the binder. He moaned low in his throat when he saw how
ripe her nipples were.

“You bought this for me?”

“You seemed to be really into my breasts. I’ve never even
gotten my ears pierced, much less my nipples, but I thought this would feel
good.”

“Does it?”

“I’ve been wet ever since I put it on, just before you got
here,” she confessed.

“I like, and I’d like to unbutton and show you just how
happy this makes me.” His voice was a wisp of sound against her ear.

She leaned forward, settling her lips against his mouth. One
of his hands found her hair and tilted her into a kiss while her fingers
fluttered down his chest, searching for his belt. When she found the raised
surface of his belt buckle, she got the contraption open then unbuttoned his
jeans.

“Your skin is so soft here,” she said, dusting her
fingertips around the surface before teasing down the treasure trail. No
resistance met her fingers. “Oh, you bad boy. Nothing but jeans here.”

His tongue explored inside her mouth and she could say
nothing more as their lips moved together. She struggled to undo the buttons
and push his jeans down his thighs. He reached into his back pocket and pulled
out a foil wrapper just as she freed his massive erection. His hands spread her
legs apart before lifting her just enough to press the juncture of her thighs
against his cock.

She pulled her mouth from his. “Patience, big boy.”

When she held the condom wrapper to his teeth, he tore it
open and she put the condom to his already-damp cock head then rolled it over
his shaft. He ripped off his shirt.

“Goody,” she said, finding his mouth again, tasting mint and
man. His lips spread wide and she felt his chuckle.

“Do you like this dress very much?”

“This old rag?” she countered.

Before she knew what he was doing, he’d somehow ripped the
neckline and split the jersey open in one smooth move.

He muttered something too low to hear and found one
distended nipple with his mouth. The way he suckled had her writhing on the
metal edge until she covered it with more cream. His fingers plucked at her
other nipple.

She wriggled against him. “C’mon, Smokie, put your cock in
me now.” If she could impale herself she would, but her feet were dangling
above the floor. Even so, she tried to pull his hips closer. His smooth muscles
flexed under her fingers.