Lauren Dane - What Happens In Vegas...

He smirked and pushed away from the fire truck, took a menacing step toward me. “Now, who’s full of shit? You want to fuck me. Not Vernelli. Not Ryan. Not any other goddamned man or a set of men. Only me.”

I gasped at his arrogance. I liked my men cocky but, Christ, he was seriously pushing it. “I don’t want to fuck only you, you arrogant bastard. If I wanted to be with just one man, I’d be engaged to Hank.”

He laughed uproariously. “Liar. Even if you weren’t scared shitless of relationships, you would never have agreed to marry Hank. He was wrong for you in every way possible.”

And what? Jack was right for me in every way possible?

Even if I wanted to ask the question, which I didn’t, I wouldn’t have had a chance to get it out. He covered the few feet between us in an instant, then spun me around and pushed me face forward toward the fire truck.

As it had when he’d pushed me against the car hood last night, the breath whooshed out of me. Only this time I had farther to go and the landing was that much harder because of it. My hands hit first, bracing for impact, so I didn’t do a complete face-plant. Then I made the mistake of taking the time to steady myself. It was all the time Jack needed to get his hands back on me and show me exactly how kind he’d been in his handling of me last night.

One hand coiled around my forearm, fingers biting into my flesh, while the other moved beneath my skirt. The warmth of his fingers brushed my rear end, and then he was yanking aside my panties, exposing my ass to the kiss of the air.

My eyes widened with the hiss of his zipper. Fear and—Christ, there was obviously something wrong with my head—uncontainable excitement coiled in my belly as the plump head of his hard cock pushed against my crack. He jammed two fingers inside my pussy, which had been ridiculously and shamelessly wet from the moment I’d witnessed his possessive rage. He fingered me just long enough to get his fingers coated in my juices and then shoved them in my asshole. I sighed with the forceful entry. Sighed louder as he started pumping.

Once.

Twice.

He pulled free and shoved inside again. Only this time not with his fingers. His cock filled me in a violent thrust.

Tears spilled from my eyes as pleasure pain so exquisite I could barely breathe rippled through my body. I curled my fingers tight, gripping on to the truck’s side rails as he pounded into my ass like some feral beast.

“Jesus Christ, Jack!” It was all I could say. It was all too much. Too forceful. Too raw. Too damned good.

Past the rage of a blossoming orgasm that promised to be one of the best of my life, I became conscious of voices. Men talking. Men laughing. Every guy in the firehouse was probably watching Jack take me in the ass.

Like the dirty girl I was, I’d never been more excited in my life. Or shouted so loudly, as my pussy contracted with spasms and I came in time with Jack’s cum spilling into my ass.

He pulled out of me seconds later, spinning me instantly in his arms. Regret over his behavior filled his eyes and I had no doubt the same would come out of his mouth if I gave him the opportunity. I wasn’t about to do that. I didn’t want apologies from Jack. The naughty part of me wanted a repeat of the violent coupling. Fortunately, the girl that knew when to walk was back to calling the shots.

I pushed my palms against Jack’s chest and sent him stumbling backward a few steps. Without another look his way, I started for the front door, settling my drenched panties back into place and managing to strum my still aroused clit in the process. I wasn’t quite able to stop the moan that slipped from between my lips, so I simply went with it.

I gave the dozen or so guys—thankfully Ryan wasn’t among them, though I knew he’d hear all about it soon enough, along with every other person on the crew not present—who stood ogling and more than likely sporting some major wood, my dirtiest smile. “So, what do you say, boys? Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

Leaving them to stare and grin and give childishly inane wolf whistles, I walked through the firehouse door in search of the nearest cab and then a bottle or two of Bombay Sapphire, hold the vermouth.

As days from hell went, this one topped the charts.

I’d thought my possessive explosion over Carinna and subsequently taking her in the ass in front of the bulk of my coworkers had been bad enough. But that had been only the beginning. Shortly after arriving home from the tournament play that night, I’d gotten an emergency backup call.

I watched in abject horror as the members of the Ladder 19 crew still inside the blazing chemical plant raced out as it exploded for what had to be the eighth time since we’d made the bad call of going inside. A sick sense of foreboding had been with me since the first explosion, when I, along with several other members of the crew, had been lucky enough to get out. That foreboding threatened to overtake me as I counted heads through the billow of wind-caught black smoke turning the early-evening sky dark as night.

I came up one short and my stomach went queasy.

Ryan.

No, I couldn’t make that assumption. Dressed in the heavy, yellow protective fire gear the way they were, it was nearly impossible to distinguish one person from the next.

I yanked off my helmet and face mask. Others followed suit. Ryan’s face came into view and, though I hadn’t realized I’d held it, my breath came whizzing out.

It sucked back in on a painful note when I realized who was missing. “Where the fuck’s Axe?”

A few guys shook their heads, their faces revealing a mix of loathing and unshed tears, but no one offered words.

Finally, Ryan approached, sorrow filling his eyes. He laid a hand on my arm, speaking quietly. “He didn’t make it out, Jack. The roof gave away when he was on the middle of it.”

Bile rose up in the back of my throat. I gulped it down and drew in a hard breath.

Didn’t. Make. It. Out.

They were the words every firefighter feared and the ones no one would voice. Until the time came when you had no other choice. Even now, only Ryan had been able to get them out.

I shook my head, not wanting to accept that possibility, refusing to believe it. The undeniable grief in my brother’s eyes told me it was a stark reality.

My throat burned in a way smoke inhalation could never replicate.

Jesus, Axe. Tony Lorent to his family.

His family.

He had a wife. Kids. He was fucking thirty-two years old.

My tears came fast and hard. I swiped at them with the back of my hand, wiping soot into my eyes that had them stinging like a bitch.

“Goddammit!”

I loved these guys, they were my family, but that didn’t change the facts. I had to get the hell out of this job. My father had been a fireman, as had his father and so on. My father had been killed in the line of duty when I was four and Ryan one. I wouldn’t let that happen to my kids. And I would have kids. With Carinna.

Maybe I hadn’t been successful in surfacing her emotions last night, but what happened at the firehouse today, how she’d been able to find pleasure in a moment that should have been humiliating for her, proved how thoroughly we were involved. It proved, despite everything she did and said, she loved me.

One more day in the poker tournament and I could put this life behind me. Unlike every other facet of the day, my luck in the tournament had been better, brought me back up to fifth place. All it would take was a few good hands to come out the winner, or at least close to it. I would get those hands and get the fuck off of a fire truck.