Vonnie Davis - How to Seduce a Fireman

Christ . Cassie leave Clearwater because of him? This was where her family lived. Where she grew up. Where her clientele resided. Loneliness crept in and wrapped its cold, gnarly hands around his gut and squeezed. She’d been part of his world for three years. The sunshine of his existence. What would his life be like without her in it?

A group of guys moved in, surrounding Cassie and her friends on the dance floor, their playful intent obvious.

Quinn took a long swig of beer. The horny bastards merited watching.

The blond guy with hair past his shoulders stepped behind Cassie and grabbed her hips, rubbing his groin against her ass. She flashed the sumbitch a smile over her shoulder, and Quinn’s gut clenched.

His fingers coiled tighter around the bottle. Hadn’t he so much as told her to move on? Still, he hadn’t expected her to get drunk and allow the first asshole that came down the pike to put his damn hands all over her.

The music stopped and Cassie sauntered toward a table with her friends. A slow tune started and blond guy grabbed her arm, pulling her into an embrace. His grimy hands slid down her back to cup her ass.

Someone turned off the strobe lights during the bump and grind music, which gave Quinn a clearer view of the dance floor and blond guy’s touchy-feeling dance style. Evidently, holding a conversation while dancing was out. Asshole was practically chewing on Cassie’s neck.

Possessiveness rolled and burned in Quinn’s gut. No one had the right to touch his angel like that, dammit. Not that she was exclusively his. She was the angel in her family and at the fire station, too, if his co-workers’ anger at him after he’d blown her off was any indication.

God, his feelings for her jumbled his emotions and created havoc with his mind more and more every damn day. Breaking things off with her before they started had been wise. It was his method that sucked raw eggs. That’s why he was here, to explain…what? Why? Hell, he could never explain why.

He expelled a curse and jammed his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Spinning on the barstool toward the bartender, Quinn slapped a bill on the bar. “Shot of Jim Beam and a beer chaser.”

Goddammit, some motherfucker had his hands on Cassie’s ass! Wildness burned so hot in him it nearly seared all rational thought—except for murder. Hell, murder was rational, wasn’t it?

Shot glass in hand, his gaze ricocheted back to Cassie. She reached behind her to ply the man’s hands off her bottom and place them higher on her back. Good girl. Words were exchanged. Blond guy acquiesced. Evidently he wasn’t as dumb as he looked. Quinn tossed back the shot, hissed a breath through his teeth and ignored his stomach’s protest.

If he didn’t soon make his move, blond guy would have her out the door and on the way to who knows where. He downed a few swallows of beer and stood. As Grandpa Hudson was prone to say, “Eating crow never comes easy.”

By the time Quinn shouldered his way through the crowd on the dance floor, blond guy had his hands on Cassie’s ass again. Quinn slowly circled the couple. Her dance partner was too busy getting his rocks off by rubbing up against her to take notice. Cassie, on the other hand, caught sight of him and her eyes widened. Her mouth silently formed his name. She knew his work schedule at the fire and rescue station. Seeing him here must have really shocked her.

So, what was it to be? Option A? Act like a gentleman and tap blond guy on his shoulder, asking to cut in? Or option B? Belt the bastard in the jaw?

Possessiveness could be a volatile bastard, uncontrollable as hell and prone to rear its head at the worst times. The thought of tossing Cassie over his shoulder and carrying her to his Wrangler appealed, which totally went against what he’d told her back at the station.

The band announced they were taking a break and the ensuing silence birthed another option. One Quinn liked even better. Option C for crazy. “There you are, Dominatrix Cassie.” He took her hand, bowed over it and kissed her knuckles with feigned reverence.

She jerked her hand to her chest and narrowed her cat eyes. “What are you doing here? Why are you speaking to me now?”

“Is this the submissive you’ve chosen for our ménage à trois tonight?”

Blond guy’s eyes lit up. “A ménage? Hell, yeah!” His head bobbed, teeth gleaming in the semi-darkness.

Oh, this was going to be fun. Quinn extended his hand to the man. “Hi, name’s Georgio, but most guys just call me Donkey, ʼcause of the size of my dong.” He grabbed his crotch. “Not to worry, though. I’ll lube you up good first. Your name is?”

The kid’s smile dimmed and he shuffled his feet. “Ah…Dustin.” His gaze flicked from Quinn to Cassie. “Look, I’m not sure what all’s going on here. Maybe you better fill me in.”

“Georgio?” Cassie’s eyebrows rose, folding her forehead, and her hands went to her hips. “ Georgio ? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about those release papers. Did you have Dustin sign them? We don’t want another lawsuit.” Quinn looked at the blond guy who shook his head and shrugged. “I’ll handle this, Dustin.” Once again, Quinn captured both of her hands in his and bowed over them. “Dominatrix, at the risk of angering you, need I remind you what you did to Pepe, the last guy you chose for our threesome?”

Her jaw was agape. “The last guy?”

Quinn shook his head once and tsked a couple times. He clasped a hand on Dustin’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. God this kid smelled like the make-up counter at Macy’s. “You see, Dominatrix Cassie is enamored of hot wax play. After Pepe got naked and stretched out on his stomach, she shoved the unlit end of a candle in big Pepe’s ass and lit the wick. While waiting for the wax to melt, she cranked the torture rack—”

Dustin’s eyeballs bulged. “Torture rack?”

He nodded. “After she clamps restraints on the man’s ankles and wrists, she cranks his legs and arms out until he screams. If they aren’t loud enough, she cranks a little more. Truthfully, she likes it when their shackled hands and feet meet.”

“Fuck.” Dustin wrapped his arms around his chest, pushed his knees together and scowled at Cassie.

“Liar! I would never hurt anyone like that.” She kicked Quinn’s shin. “Don’t piss me off, bucko. I’m running out of places to hide the bodies.”

He fought the urge to laugh. She could be damn comical when she was pissed. “Thank you, Mistress Cassie. I do love it when you discipline me.” He winked. “You know how it turns me on.” He faced Dustin again. “Back to my story about Pepe. She’d crawled beneath the torture rack so she could force the man’s cock and balls into a cage.”

“Cage?” Dustin squeaked, his head whipped toward her and he stepped back.

Quinn nodded. “A little one, wired for electrical shocks.” His open hands mimicked the size of a coffee mug. “Poor Pepe was screaming, first in English and then in Spanish. Or was it Portuguese? Mistress Cassie thought they were shrieks of ecstasy.” He shrugged and lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “How was she to know Pepe had farted and shot the candle from his ass onto his back, setting his hair on fire.” He shook his head again. “Pepe was a hairy bastard. The poor sumbitch went up like a roman candle.”

Dustin gasped. “Holy hell.”

Cassie jerked the bill of Quinn’s ball cap. “Listen you lying idiot. I’m so mad at you right now, I could ram your balls into a cage. Although I’d need a bigger one than you claim I used on Pepe.” She pointed to his crotch. “See his jeans, Dustin? They look like his crotch has the mumps.”