Forty-Eight Hour Burn (2 page)

And drove himself friggin’ nuts in the process. He walked away from her taking with him the lingering scent of her lavender shampoo, of her acute arousal, of the heat that burned a raging fire within her. He would be smelling her for the rest of the night, right along with picturing her long blond hair falling around her angelic face and desire-filled blue eyes.

“Good man.” Randy slapped Gavin on the back as he double stepped to keep time with Gavin’s longer strides. “Think you’re going to need some help controlling her?”

“I think she wants you to help.” Gavin struggled to tamp down the jealously that rose at her response to the idea of Randy touching her. He doubted she even realized the way her breath had hitched or the way her nipples beaded to points tight enough to poke holes through her blouse. He noticed, though, and he enjoyed the reaction even as the green demon of envy reared his ugly head. He shared women with Randy before. They made a helluva good team at flying a woman to the sweet island of pleasure.

His cock stirred at the thought of delivering Georgia such pleasure. The only woman to ever instill in him the want to keep her all to himself while, at the same time, driving home the need to take her to levels of ecstasy he could never do alone.

“If that’s a problem, Lieutenant, I’ll back off. Can’t say I’ll be happy about it, but you staked first claim on her long before I came to town. You’re calling the shots here.”

Gavin’s respect for his fellow firefighter and friend grew. “Isn’t it our job to see to the woman’s fulfillment? Protect, serve, and pleasure, they’re all part of the vow, aren’t they?”

Randy laughed. “Saying it like that makes us sound like part of some teenage boy frat club.”

“Never said guys like us can’t be pretty immature at times.”

Randy pushed a breath through pursed lips and glanced over his shoulder. Gavin didn’t have to turn to know Georgia still stood exactly where he left her. “I’ve gotta be honest, man. There’s nothing immature about the things I want to do to that woman.”

“Same here, buddy.”

“I gather you gave her a small dose of what she’s asking for just now.”

“You could say that.” Gavin curled his fingers into a fist. He still felt the electricity of her natural warmth on his fingertip. “I call the shots, huh?” He angled Randy a look. “Well, the first round gets fired at seven thirty.”

Randy’s expression turned surprised. “Getting started a bit early, don’t you think?”

“I figured that’s about as long as either of us will be able to last now that the signal has been sent and accepted.”

“You got that right. It’s gonna be a helluva night.”

It wouldn’t be the first one Gavin spent with his cock in his hand, imagining Georgia’s sweet lips stroking up and down his shaft. The way he figured it, jerking off a few times in the night would only make his control over his own release stronger, allowing him the ability to dish out the pleasure that he had in mind.

* * * *

Wear something blue. I like you in blue. It matches your eyes
.

“Lucky for me, I have a closet full of blue,” Georgia muttered as she shuffled hangers back and forth on the bar in search of the right outfit. “Unlucky for me that most of it is conservative, drab, and long.”

None of which, she knew with absolutely certainty, would please Gavin. His instructions explicitly stated something short and easy to get off.

“Which leaves you out,” she told the cotton, ankle-length dress that buttoned all the way down the front. Visions of Gavin becoming frustrated enough to tear the dress from her, sending buttons flying through the bedroom, flashed through her mind. “Tempting and fun, but we better save that for another day.”

She pushed several more articles of clothing aside before her fingers latched onto the perfect dress. A deep river blue as instructed, short enough to brush her legs at mid-thigh, and a cinch to remove seeing as it wrapped around and tied with a sash at the waist.

“Perfect.” She pulled the dress from the closet, reaching with her free hand for the cup of coffee she put on the shelf, and sipped while she turned. She grimaced at the assault of tepid coffee but swallowed it anyway. She'd drank three cups since sunrise. If she didn’t stop soon, she would risk caffeine overload.

“That’s what you get for not sleeping.” A tummy full of rioting butterflies and nerves strung so tight she wondered she didn’t snap made the night seemingly endless. Rather than sleep through it, she tossed and turned, paced, ate, and burned. She couldn’t get the feel of Gavin’s possessive touch, of his rock-hard body, of his claiming kiss out of her memory. It lingered in the forefront of her mind. It teased and tormented her until she grew so wet and hot and ready she couldn’t help but relieve the pressure, even if only by the smallest of amount.

She ran a tub of nearly scalding water, added bubbles of a strawberry-mist scent, and let her imagination fly. In her mind, Gavin pressed the pad of his palm over her clit as his fingers found the tender entrance to her pussy. Randy’s hand curved under her breast, his thumb flicking her nipple to a hardened point that pulsed in time with her clit as Gavin applied a delicious pressure to the swollen nub. Three long, strong fingers plundered her channel. More fingers on her breast rolled and squeezed her nipple until together they turned the sensations to lightning surges of pleasure. She exploded in a jerky and mindless, screaming orgasm. An orgasm that did very little to quench the true burn.

She masturbated twice more in the night, each with the same outcome of a vigorous release that left her unsatisfied and wanting more. She wanted them, their hands, their mouths, their cocks, and nothing else would suffice.

“And soon, very, very soon, you will have them,” she told her reflection in the mirror over her dresser.

She dropped the towel she wore sarong style and retrieved the black lace bra and matching thong panties she bought for this very occasion. Forget that she purchased the lingerie over two years ago in a moment of attempted defiance toward her father that she never carried through. Jordan Cooper wanted only the best for his adopted daughter. Georgia understood that. She admired, respected, and loved her father for it. She also knew their beliefs and definition of the best collided when the names "Gavin Scott" and "Randy Pope" came up.

Through the mirror, her gaze found the picture of her father on her nightstand as she donned the dress she picked out. Jordan Cooper’s smiling face lit the room. She doubted he would be smiling now if he knew what she intended to do.

“They’re what I want, Daddy,” she told his picture. “They’re what is best. I’m a big girl. I know what I want, and I’m going after it.”

The doorbell chimed. Her eyes widened as twin slivers of excitement and apprehension stabbed the lining of her belly. She allowed herself a second to run a brush through her hair—left down, her face with no makeup as instructed—and bounced down the stairs.

She opened the door to a stern-faced Gavin Scott still dressed in his navy fire department T-shirt, jeans, and boots, looking no less sexy than he had hours before. A streak of what appeared to be soot or some other black dirt streaked his left cheek. She started to wipe it away when his expression changed.

Gavin nodded slowly, his eyes glinting with approval as his gaze caressed her front in a leisurely slide that milked a layer of wetness from her channel to soak her pussy. He stepped inside, his front bumping into her and not stopping until he backed her against a nearby wall. He didn’t touch her, not with his hands, but the feel of his body proved enough to draw a small whimper from her slightly parted lips.

“I like the dress.” He spoke low, his tone raspy and sexy as hell just like the man it belonged to. “Good choice. What are you wearing under it?”

“Bra and panties.” Georgia managed to speak without drooling on herself or him. He stood so close she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. Heat and arousal formed an almost tangible bubble around them. “Both black lace.”

“Mmm, and the panties, are they thong?”

“They are.” Somehow, she took him for a thong man. She was immensely pleased to discover she had been right.

“Open the dress, and let me see.” He moved back a fraction to allow her room to do as he bid.

Georgia untied the sash that held the dress closed with quivering fingers. Breathing deep, she slowly parted the material to reveal her lingerie.

“Damn, that’s hot.” He whispered the words, following them with a low growl that sounded as if it came all the way from his balls. “The contrast of the dark color against your pale flesh, I like it. Take them off.”

Georgia blinked. “I…” Confused, she stopped. Didn’t he just say he liked them?

“You won’t need panties or a bra for the next twenty-four hours. Take them off, and leave them here.”

Georgia started to argue but decided against it. She would save her fighting power for other more important battles she knew would come later. She didn’t care if he kept her stark naked for the next twenty-four hours. Well, okay, maybe she did a little. The idea of going to his house where she would parade around without a stitch of clothing for a full day brought her an impious sense of embarrassment. Forget she wanted it. Forget she asked for it in a roundabout way of bonfires and sultry innuendos. Giving in, however, didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with it.

She looked at him from beneath the brush of her lashes. “Are you challenging me?”

“Are you defying me?” he countered in a tone of cool authority that sent a thrill dancing through her womb.

Deciding not to risk pissing him off, she reached behind her back, thrusting her breasts out as she pretended to fumble with the clasp of the bra. She wanted to see if his gaze would follow the movement of her breasts. It did, and a primal growl left his throat.

“Your nipples are hard.”

“I’m cold.” His lips almost slid into a grin. Almost.

She wanted to see him smile. God, the man’s smile could make her nearly as wet as his touch. She peeled the bra from her breasts, lowering it slowly until she let it drop to the floor at her feet.

“You’re toying with me, Georgia.” His cool warning told her she might be pushing him a little too far. That didn’t stop his gaze from following the slide of her hands down her sides to the thin strip of lace on either hip. “Is your pussy wet? Have you soaked those panties already?”

Georgia didn’t answer as she wiggled out of the thong.

“You are. I can smell the sweet, warm scent of your juices.”

Georgia felt her face heat with a blush. She couldn’t say why his blunt words embarrassed her. How could they make her feel so uncomfortable but heavily aroused at the same time?

“There’s no need to be ashamed.” His tone boarded gentle even as it held the unyielding power she knew. “I want to know if you are wet for me, baby. I want to hear you say it. Tell me you’re creaming for me, Georgia.”

“I am.” She bit her lower lip and struggled to find a bit of the bravado she started with. “I’m wet for you, very wet.”

“How many times did you finger yourself after I left last night?”

The heat in her cheeks intensified, rivaling that in her channel. “How many times did you jerk off after you left here last night?”

A muscle in Gavin’s jaw jumped, but he didn’t say anything. He simply stared at her and waited. The man could wait out a dead man. She knew that and didn’t bother wasting either of their time.

“Three times.”

“Three? Did you come all three times?”

“I certainly didn’t leave myself hot and bothered without an orgasm like you left me last night.”

“Who gave you permission to come?”

Georgia swallowed hard.
Permission
? The question threw her for a loop. She blinked at him, once, twice, and still her brain couldn’t quite compute an answer.

“You did not have my permission to come.”

“I didn’t know I needed it.” She bristled and narrowed her eyes. “You’re being difficult. You never told me I had to ask for it.”

He expected her to go the entire night with a pulsing clit and throbbing cunt so slick and burning that insanity threatened to claim her very soul? Not a chance! She did what she needed to do. Not that it did much good in the overall scheme of satisfaction. That didn’t change the facts. She couldn’t have held off until this morning if she tried.

“I didn’t tell you,” he agreed, “which is why I’ll go easy on your punishment this time.”

Punishment
? Before she could question, he went on.

“Take this and insert it in your pussy.”

Georgia’s gaze shot to the egg-shaped object he held out for her. Refusal warred with the need to obey. The submissive in her wanted to do anything and everything he asked of her. The strong-willed soul in her wanted to prove to him she wouldn’t be so easily controlled.

She licked her lips again, loving the way his attention followed the path of her tongue, the way his eyes turned to darkened pools of lust. “I don’t suppose you could make it sound a bit more romantic.”

“Take this in your pretty, little hand and slide it through that syrupy cream I can see glistening on those bare, pouty lips. Put it inside you, and know the next thing that invades that weeping cunt will be a hard, thrusting cock fucking you to oblivio