Wilde Fire (7 page)

“Have you ever thought about this while touching yourself?” Her legs weren’t fighting me anymore, so I let go of her thigh and moved my other hand to her opening. My fingers barely skimmed her and came away coated in her wetness.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

The thought of her touching herself while picturing me giving her head made me groan. My mouth was back on her, though, and her body shuddered when the noise of my groan vibrated against her. I kissed her sweet pussy before leaning back.

I gazed up at her, but she was already staring down at me. She looked so close to coming, I knew if I just sucked on that spot another moment, I’d feel her come all around me.

It made me wet my lips to taste her. She was perfect. In every fucking way a woman could be, right down to the way her pussy tasted on my mouth. “Well, after tonight I’m going to make you feel so good, you’re going to be ruined. You’ll never be able to fuck yourself again because it just won’t compare.” That’s when I started circling my finger outside of her opening. I wanted to plunge it inside of her so badly. I moved it away because my finger would not be the first part of my body to fuck her there, but she flexed her hips against me when I stopped.

She wanted it. She wanted something deep inside of her. God, I didn’t know how I was holding on to the restraint I’d never been a big fan of, but I reminded myself of who she was and what she deserved. Tonight, this was all about her.

When her hips flexed against me again, I rewarded her by circling my finger around her wet opening. She sighed, driving her hips down like she was trying to finger-fuck herself. I moved quicker though.

“I’m the only one who will be able to make you feel good,” I continued, moving my wet fingers back to her inner thigh to spread her legs back apart. “The only one who can give you the type of release you need. Your hand just isn’t going to do it anymore. The only way you’ll be able to enjoy it is if it’s my cock or my head buried between your legs.” She groaned again, like this time it was my words driving her closer to her orgasm. “No more touching yourself when I’m close by. Not when I could never ever get tired of pleasing you.”

When she realized I was waiting for her to agree, she nodded. “Only you,” she breathed, angling her hips closer. “Stop teasing me. Please. I’m going to come if you keep talking dirty to me like that, and I want your mouth to be fucking me when I do.”

A tilted smile moved into place. “Dirty girl,” I grunted, then I did as requested. She gasped so loudly I could feel it in her pussy, and when I started flicking my tongue against her again, she buried one hand in my hair, holding me against her.

“God, Jake. Make me come.” Her voice was so throaty and consumed by a primal need, I wanted to pull my cock out and stroke myself at the same time. I wanted to come with her, to spray my cum all over those wet, glistening lips, but tonight, this was for her. All of it.

I’d have mine soon.

And once I had her, there would be no slowing down or stopping. I’d want to fuck her every night. Every morning before I let her leave for work, I was going to hike that short little skirt up and slam into her until she’d be walking funny the rest of the day. I’d never be able pull myself away from her. To stop myself from taking her. So this was why tonight was so important. So she’d know. Her first. Me second.

Always.

When she fell back onto the mattress, arching her hips against me, I knew she was on top of her orgasm. I slid my other hand just outside her opening again, barely touching her there. I wanted to feel her wetness drain out of her when she came—I wanted to feel my finger coated in it. I wanted to give her the greatest pleasure she’d ever known.

She grabbed my hand holding her lips apart and splayed it across her breast again. She showed me how she wanted to be touched there. She forced my fingers to pinch and grope at her and bury themselves deep in her soft flesh. Her nipples were as hard and firm as the part I was licking on her, and when I felt the first shudder roll through her body, I slowed the pace of my tongue and sucked her gently inside of my mouth.

“Right there,” she moaned, tweaking at her nipple with me. Her hand buried in my hair pressed harder against me, encouraging me.

I sucked her harder, my fingers still playing around her opening, my other hand pulling on her nipple like she wanted.

My cock was leaking so damn bad I’d probably just spilled my load without the getting off part, but damn, that was okay because this was the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced.

“Jake . . .” she moaned, pumping her hips against my face, her body writhing against me, fighting me. I didn’t stop sucking, I didn’t stop pinching, I didn’t stop circling . . . not until the last shudder spilled down her body.

When I pulled back, I found my finger coated in her juices, my mouth tasting like her, and the rest of my body felt as if I was being consumed by her. She consumed me. In every way a man wanted to be consumed by a woman.

I stood up and towered over her body, reveling in the view of what I’d just done to her body. Her neck and face were flushed, her limbs looked useless, her pussy was still wet and pulsing from the aftershocks.

That’s when I knew I loved her. That’s when I knew I always would. I could make her feel things that made it look like she’d found heaven on earth.

“If that’s what you can do to me with your mouth, I really can’t wait to feel what you can do with your cock.” Her eyes were still closed, but she smiled.

I could tell she was tired, and with everything I had planned for us in the days to come, she was going to need her rest. Tightening the towel around me, I crawled into bed beside her, snagging a pillow and settling it beneath her head. I kissed her on the lips, tasting the sweetness of both sets of her lips on my mouth.

“Neither can I,” I whispered, before falling asleep with her in my arms.

THIS TIME IT wasn’t just my world on fire. It was the rest of it.

At least that’s what it felt like.

As the whole team at the smokejumper base had been equally dreading and predicting, a lightning storm hit a week ago . . . and all hell broke loose. With it being one of the driest summers on record, accompanied by the number of lightning strikes that had touched down, over a million acres of Alaska’s wilderness had gone up in flames.

The man I loved was in the middle of that.

Jake got the call last week with the rest of his team, and they were in the air and off to parachute into the middle of it. The waiting was the worst part. Not so much the knowing he was leaving, or even waiting for the word that he’d made a safe jump and was on the ground. It was the waiting that wore on my every nerve. The waiting that made me so crazy with fear I was about ready to strap on a pack of my own and go find him.

It wasn’t just one forest fire they were fighting. It was a dozen different ones, converging on one another. Of course, being the big bad Spartans that they were, the smokejumper’s job was to be at the center of it all, scouting the front lines and prepping what they could for the hotshots to come in and do the rest. The safe (by comparison) part.

Why couldn’t Jake, for once in his life have gone with the safer job option? Why did he always have to be the first to raise his hand when one of his high school friends issued a dare? Why did he have to sign up for the most dangerous missions when he was in Iraq? Why did he have to fight fires in the very most dangerous position?

I knew why, though, of course. Jake lived life big. Every single day. He wasn’t happy unless he was pushing the envelope, riding the line between life and death, and as much as it stressed me the hell out, I knew it was one of the things I loved most about him.

He didn’t love life, or the people he cared about in life, halfheartedly. He loved them with all of it, down to the last beat and fiber.

Having the love of a man like Jake Wilde didn’t come cheap. It was expensive. The price was always worth the reward, but sometimes it was difficult to remember that when I hadn’t heard anything new in three days.

I was in the kitchen again, making another gazillion batches of cookies to distract myself, but it wasn’t working like it had last time. I needed another distraction on top of the cookie making.

Grabbing the remote from the kitchen counter, I flipped on the old box television set Jake had settled into the far corner of the kitchen. It didn’t get used very much, and he didn’t get anything more than the basic channels, but the noise would be a welcome distraction.

The news was on . . . every single channel. So news it was. I settled on a local station and got back to spooning cookie dough onto baking sheets. I smiled when I remembered what had happened the last time I’d made cookies in this kitchen. Maybe tonight I’d be just as lucky.

Although I would have been perfectly content just to have him back. I knew he was going to be exhausted being out this long. Those guys took shifts sleeping, but resting wasn’t the priority when they were fighting a forest fire.

Before Alaska decided to light itself on fire, Jake had made a date for our first time. He’d made dinner reservations at the nice seafood restaurant on the water and booked the nicest cabin at one of the nearby resorts. He’d even gone out and bought a suit. I’d never even seen Jake put on anything close to a suit, even back in high school for formals.

The electrical charge surging between us those few days before we were going to see to my “virginity issue” meant we had to keep our distance. At least as much as we were capable.

Which wasn’t much. I didn’t know how he’d been able to restrain himself. Guys were supposed to be hormone-driven beasts, right? Living and dying for their next orgasm?

He was insistent though. No matter how many looks of anticipation I sent his way. No matter how demandingly I rubbed my body against his, kissing him and sucking his tongue into my mouth. No matter how many times I straddled him when he was racked out on the couch, rubbing myself up and down on him until I’d made the zipper of his jeans wet.

The only time he had reacted to me trying to get him into bed again was when I dipped my fingers inside of my panties while I’d been dry-humping his lap. I’d been wound so tight that all it would have taken was a few slow, lazy circles around my clit and I would have been moaning his name into the next zip code over.

He’d pulled my hand out before one finger brushed my pussy, he tied it behind my back, and told me I was not allowed to fuck myself anymore. Not now that I had him.

I agreed. Only after making him agree to the same. He promised.

So after experiencing the single best orgasm of my life, gifted by the single best man in the world, I was cut off.

Those three days that passed were hell. For us both. Waiting for what we knew was coming made it that much harder. Unable to pleasure ourselves to diffuse the amassing tension made it unbearable.

But then the day had come. Dinner reservations were set for five. We were checking in to the cabin right after. And Jake made it clear we would not be staying for dessert. When I’d asked why he’d made dinner reservations so early, he’d told me he was in a hurry to get me back to the cabin.

I was all for skipping dinner and showing up two minutes before check-in time, but Jake had planned out this perfect night, and he wanted to give me that. It was adorable. In a sexually frustrating type of way.

I’d waited twenty-three years of my life to have sex with this man; I wasn’t excited at the prospect of waiting another minute.

But it was important to him, so it was important to me. I could wait.

We were almost out the door, him in his suit, me in my fitted black dress I’d failed to slip undergarments under, when the call came in.

He had to kiss me goodbye a minute later.

That was a week ago. Seven long days without him. Nothing to keep me busy. All of the guys at the base were gone, so there wasn’t much research to be done. I spent my time walking around the facility, taking pictures, making notes of memorabilia hung on walls, restocking the fridge, and cleaning the dishes that had been left when the team had been sent out.

I’d just finished spooning the last glob of cookie dough onto the pan when something the news anchor said caught my attention.
Smokejumpers.

I dropped the spoon and grabbed the remote, turning up the volume.

“Three Alaskan smokejumpers are missing. It’s feared they were caught on the North Ridge of Crimson Peak when the winds shifted, sending the Canyon Creek wildfire their direction. Searches are being carried out by helicopter, the safe return of the men is by no means a certainty.”

I was still holding the remote, but my hand started shaking. My arm followed, along with the rest of my body.

“The names of the missing men have not been released, but I’m told we’ll know them once the families have been informed.”

I was shaking. Hard. I knew it was him. He was one of the missing three. The remote fell from my hand and clattered onto the floor. The batteries spilled out of it and it just lay there.

He’d be okay. I knew he would. He’d find his way out. He had to. He promised he’d be here for me. To take care of me. To love me . . . with his heart, soul, body . . . he promised.