Light Her Fire Page 9

  Had she? She couldn’t remember. All she could focus on was the feel of his fingers sliding over her, drawing nearer to the point he’d discover her panties weren’t just pink, but incredibly damp. “Did it…work?”

  “You know it did. You wearing pink around me amounts to waving a red flag in front of a bull. I see it, and I automatically think about every soft pink part of you. Every peak and crevice. I think about touching, tasting…sinking into those soft pink parts until you shudder and scream. When you wear that color around me, you’re saying, ‘I want you to fuck me.’ Understand?”

  His hand stilled, and she realized he was waiting for a response. “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  Yes, what? Holy crap, what did he want her to say? “Yes…I understand?”

  He slapped her backside. Need tore through her. “Please,” she whispered, and her eyes fluttered shut.

  “Yes, what?” he prompted again.

  Inspiration struck. “Yes, I want you to fuck me.”

  A second later his fingers hooked into her panties. Another tug, and her underwear landed around her ankles.

  Even though she couldn’t see him, she knew he was taking in the view. Her skin prickled under the heat of his gaze. A hard, calloused palm slid down her spine, over her bare cheeks, and squeezed. Those long, sure fingers angled between her legs.

  “Please,” she said again, and brought her hands up to hold the column in front of her, then leaned in and let the post take her weight. Stabilized, she went up on her toes, but instead of delving deeper, he moved his hand to her thigh.

  “Stand up straight and spread them.” His voice vibrated in her ear. Her heart raced. Her legs trembled, but she managed to give up the support of the post, step out of her clothes and plant her feet hip-distance apart.

  “Like this?” Every nerve ending in her body protested the new position. Open. Aching. Desperate for relief, and denied the small comfort of rubbing her thighs together to relieve the unbelievable pressure.

  He stepped between her and the column. His eyes gleamed and a smile played across his lips. Keeping his gaze on her face, he knelt in front of her. “Very good.” He slid his hands up the backs of her thighs. “Hold on to the post.”

  She gripped it so hard her knuckles ached. Nobody who saw her at this moment would mistake her for a good girl.

  The feel of warm lips on the point of her hip sent her thoughts scattering. “Show me more pink, Bluelick.”

  She wanted to, so badly, but before she could work out the logistics, he slid an arm between her thighs and lifted one leg onto his shoulder.

  She sucked in a breath and tried to prepare herself for what came next…her, God willing…but then lost the hard-fought oxygen when he slipped a finger inside her.

  “God, yes.” Her back arched. Her hips bucked, blindly seeking a way to ride what he’d given her as fast and as far as she could. But he wouldn’t let her get far. He held her there, balanced on one leg, wide open before him, impaled on one finger.

  She flung her head back and stared at the moon, wondering how much more she could take. As if he’d read the thought, he dipped his head and seared a hot line of openmouthed kisses up her inner thigh. Higher still. Into the freshly waxed territory she’d carefully prepared for just this contingency. And then, sweet heaven, into her folds. His tongue traced the tender flesh stretched around his slowly thrusting finger…and moved on, flicking closer and closer to the bundle of nerves quivering for his attention. Instead of giving it, however, he paused there for a suspended second, breathing her in.

  Sweat coated her skin. Shivers racked her body. Whatever thread of control she had left unraveled. A sound embarrassingly close to a wail exploded from her mouth, and she didn’t give a damn. She tightened her grip on the post and rocked her hips forward—shoving herself into his face.

  A hard hand at her hip kept her still, and Josh’s deep voice washed over her anguished flesh. “Looks like you’re ready to count.”

  “Wha…?” He thrust his finger deep and dragged his tongue over her—quick, hard, and straight down the center.

  A white-hot bolt of lightning shot through her, burning a path from her sex to brain and exploding behind her closed eyelids. Another powerful bolt built behind it, just beneath the point where his tongue rested. And then, holy crap, he withdrew his tongue.

  “Oh, please. Damn you. Oh, please.”

  “Count for me. That was one.”

  She couldn’t get her breath. Couldn’t form a thought, and he wanted her to count? “O-one.”

  Like a miracle, his tongue returned, and stroked her again.

  “Two,” she sobbed as the lightning speared through her again. The world spiraled away into a swirl of heat and light. Only two fragile things anchored her—her fingernails digging into wood, and the tip of Josh’s tongue pressed to the center of her universe. From somewhere across the chaos of oblivion, she heard herself begging, “Three. Three. Please give me three…” Then he raked her again and she went flying, twisting, falling…

  Apparently actually falling, because when the last blissful shudder worked its way out of her system, she blinked her heavy, strangely watery eyes open and realized Josh still knelt on her porch, with her now draped over him like a rag doll. Knees on either side of his hips, breasts smashed against his chest, and her head lolling on his wide, solid shoulder. Somebody sobbed, and his arm tightened around her waist.

  “Shhh. Enough of that, Bluelick.”

  She lifted her head, intending to ask him what he meant, but to her utter dismay a hiccuping sob burst from her throat. She clamped a hand over her mouth and drew back. Sure enough, there was a big wet spot on his white shirt, complete with a couple smears of mascara.

  “Sorry. I made a mess of you.” She scrubbed at one of the black smudges and only succeeded in smearing it more. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ll pay to have that dry-cleaned.”

  He caught her chin in his hand and lifted her face to his. “A long-overdue and well-deserved orgasm is what came over you, and I don’t give a fuck about my shirt.”

  Long overdue? Try looooong overdue. But still, she couldn’t believe she’d lost control to the point she’d bawled. She scooted off him and picked up her dress. “That’s gentlemanly of you.” She stepped into her dress and got to work on the buttons. “I’m not one of those girls, I want you to know. I don’t usually…” She fluttered her hand around her face.

  He stood, grinning, and then reached out. His quick fingers beat hers to the last button. “You don’t usually come so hard you cry?”

  “I don’t usually get so emotional about a…a…physical release.” Not on her own, at any rate, which was how all her other orgasms had occurred. But the things Josh had done to her, the sensations he’d unleashed, had been so overwhelming. “Honestly, I’m not a crier. Haven’t cried after sex since my first…” Abort. Do not mention Roger right now. “Um…in a long time.”

  He stared at her for three full heartbeats, and then gently ran his thumb across her cheek, which made her wonder what kind of catastrophe her face was, with mascara and tear tracks everywhere. “That’s okay. Who says I didn’t cry my first time, too?”

  “Did you?” She didn’t quite keep the surprise out of her voice. She had a hard time picturing him anything but in total control of himself.

  “No.” His smile slid back into place, and he stepped closer. “But technically, we haven’t had our first time yet. I’m willing to let you take your best shot at making me tear up.”

  .

  Chapter Eight

  Josh went for a dive in Melody’s wide blue eyes while he waited for her answer, and then swore when his phone chimed from his back pocket. The station. He knew from the ringtone. Which meant there was an emergency, or at least something the guys on shift considered an emergency.

  “I’m sorry. I have to answer that.”

  She shook her head, dismissing his apology. “No. Of course you do.”

 
He hit answer and said, “Bradley,” into the phone, and then listened while Cooper summed up the situation—Civic versus Kenworth on the double A. Full response requested. And that was that. He caught Melody’s concerned gaze as he said, “I’m on my way.”

  “Bad?” she asked when he disconnected.

  “There’s a pileup on the highway. We’re first responders, and I’ve got more extrication experience than any of the guys on duty tonight. They’re on their way, and will get things started, but I need to go.”

  “I understand. Be safe.”

  He appreciated her grace in the face of the interruption. “When can we reschedule this? All of the sudden, I could use a good cry.”

  Her smile nearly knocked him on his ass. “Tomorrow? Around six-ish?”

  “Great. Bluelick?”

  “What, Chief?”

  He grabbed a handful of the front of her dress and reeled her in. “Let’s aim to take things inside next time.” So saying, he brought his mouth down on hers. Yes, it was the kind of kiss that brooked no objections, but she made it equally clear she had none. She held on tight and drank it in. Drank him in. Her hands raced down his back, along his sides, and back up again, as if she couldn’t stop touching him. “See you tomorrow.”

  Her lips found the corner of his jaw and nibbled. He groaned as his schedule flashed across his mind. “Fuck it, I’m covering a shift tomorrow, so Rusty can go to his parents’ wedding anniversary or something. I don’t get off until late.”

  “Late’s okay with me, but we can play it by ear.” She drew back and shrugged. “How about you call if you’re up for company?”

  The “call me after your shift if you want to have sex” arrangement usually worked for him. Ideal, really, in his not-so-limited experience, so he couldn’t explain why the notion of being her booty call felt less like an ideal situation and more like she’d just shortchanged them both.

  “No. That’s not how I want to do this.”

  “Oh.” Her smile faded and she stepped back as if stung. “Sorry. My mistake. I thought you wanted to see me tomorrow.”

  Well, shit. He’d botched that. “I do.” He slipped his hand around her neck and held her still as he moved back into her space. “But I’m not interested in taking any shortcuts. What I have in mind involves you putting on another of these little dresses and sitting across from me in a crowded restaurant.”

  She pouted at him. “Doesn’t sound very private.”

  “Not so much, no, but you’ll sit there in your dress and pearls, smiling your Miss Bluelick smile while I stare at you and think up new ways to move you to tears. Most likely someone you know will stop by to say hello—a friend, a neighbor, an old Sunday school teacher. You’ll have to make small talk, and try very hard not to blush and squirm, even though you know I’m imagining your dress on the floor and your panties around your ankles, because the only thing I’m hungry for is between your legs. When you’re so hot you can’t sit still anymore, and you’re so wet you’re worried about leaving a damp spot on your skirt, you’ll give me the look—the one you’re giving me right now—and I’ll come to your rescue. I’ll toss some bills on the table, tell your friend we have to go, and drag you out the door. And everyone in the place will know good, proper Melody Merritt is about to get good and properly fucked.”

  The pulse at the base of her throat beat like a war drum. Her mouth worked for several seconds before she produced a sound. “Call me.”

  He kissed her again, because he just couldn’t resist those soft lips. When he broke away, she leaned into him, chased his retreating mouth. Mission accomplished. “’Night, Bluelick.”

  …

  “I’m really glad you called and asked to get together, Mel, but I have to admit, I never dreamed you’d be up for this.”

  Melody looked over at Ginny and experienced a pang of envy at how easily her friend ran and talked at the same time. Ginny’s cropped running tank and booty-hugging boy shorts showed off the same sleek, coltish body she’d had in high school. She probably still ran the 800-meter in two minutes flat…and chattered up a storm while she was at it. Her? Not so much. “I’m not sure I want to anymore. Have we gone five miles yet?”

  “Not even. More like three miles. Why? Do you need to walk?”

  She gritted her teeth and shook her head. “No. I need to run. I’ve put on a few pounds.”

  “Please. You have not.” Ginny turned left and led them down the length of the square, bounding gracefully—like a short white Kenyan.

  “I have. Trust me.” She hoped that ended the questions. She wasn’t about to admit she knew because as soon as Josh had driven away from her house last night, she’d run upstairs, dug her cheerleading uniform out of the back of her closet, and tried it on. Sucker was tight. Doing a sexy cheer was out of the question if she couldn’t breathe and the waistband of her skirt was cutting her in half.

  “Hmm. From what I observed at DeShay’s last night, Josh didn’t seem to have any complaints. You had his full attention. The looks he sent you”—she fanned her face—“whew…I thought I was going to burst into flames just watching. Which is as close as I’m likely to get to looks like that.”

  “You? Are you kidding me? You get looks like that all the time.”

  “Pfftt. From the guys around here? They don’t count. Half of them aren’t single and have no business looking. The other half?” She shook her head. “I’ve dated every unattached, interested guy in Bluelick between the ages of twenty-one and fifty. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid. Why keep making the same old mistakes with the same old guys?”

  “Well…because it’s a small town…which kind of limits the opportunity to make new mistakes?”

  “I know. But I’m cool with that. I’m putting myself on a little hiatus, sexually speaking. Who knows, maybe if I go without long enough, I’ll recover my virginity?”

  The question made her laugh, which made it impossible to keep running. “Oh God. I’ve got to stop. You go ahead. I’ll catch you on the next lap.”

  Ever accommodating, Ginny waved and bounded off as if gravity didn’t have the same hold on her as it did on normal people. Melody stifled a sound of relief and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her tank top. Then she took her phone from the holster around her biceps and tapped the screen to call up an app to tell her just how not far and not fast she’d run.

  A new text message pulled her off mission. She hit the icon and smiled when she saw the sender’s name. Josh. He’d attached a picture of her running around the square. She could tell by the angle that it was taken from the firehouse.

  I don’t know about the rest of the men in Bluelick, but you took care of me in half a lap.

  She laughed and then looked back at the fire station to see if she could spot him anywhere. Nope. Still grinning, she typed, You dirty pervert. Get your head out of your pants.

  He texted back immediately. Wasn’t my head in my pants. It was something a bit more…handy.

  The thought of him, watching her and…ahem…handling himself, sent her head straight into her pants. Don’t you have an engine to buff?

  The engine is buffed. I buffed it for the better part of 3 minutes, thanks to you prancercizing in that outfit.

  Red tank top over a jog bra and red running shorts? This is a perfectly ordinary running outfit.

  Her incoming text signal dinged immediately. From the Nike “Cock Tease” collection. I sat here in all kinds of agony watching your tits bounce while you jogged around the square, remembering how it felt to be lodged between them. I’m not even going to tell you what the sight of your ass in those running shorts does to me. It’s begging to be spanked. I counted 5 laps. You do the math.

  She tripped over her own foot, caught her balance, and looked around again. Still no sign of him, but she felt the heat of his gaze as profoundly as a touch. Her skin tingled. Her system hummed. She fought off a naughty urge to run five more laps. Not that she cou
ld. This time she’d know he was watching—which brought a whole new meaning to the term “runner’s high.”

  The firehouse stood to her right, in all its historic redbrick glory. She boldly faced the building, put her hand on her hip, and sent the structure a defiant stare. When that didn’t produce any response, she typed, I feel so objectified. Is that all you see when you look at me? Tits and ass? Fine with her. High time someone did.

  He sent a new picture over—of her staring at the firehouse. I notice every goddamn thing. Look at your long, toned legs. I might actually get bruised when they’re wrapped around my waist and you’re losing control. I’m also thinking, just for once, you be the firefighter and I’ll be the citizen in distress.

  It took a lot not to laugh out loud, but she didn’t want to stand there laughing to herself in the town square like a crazy lady. Keeping her eyes on the screen, she typed, Is this before or after the spanking?

  My shift ends at midnight. I’ll be on your doorstep at 12:05 and then you’ll find out.

  The notion of finding out had her fingers shaking on the touch screen. Weren’t you the one who insisted on taking me out to dinner first?

  That was before you went jogging. You’ve brought this on yourself.

  Wow. The benefits of exercise could not be overstated. I accept full responsibility. See you tonight.

  You will. Now go put on something decent. I can practically taste your nipples through that tank top.

  She looked down. Yep, the girls were on high alert—all tight and tingly. Maybe she should have been embarrassed, but she wasn’t. The rest of her felt as perky as her nipples, and she really didn’t care who knew it. Giddy and excited were not bad ways to go through the day. Beat the heck out of lonely and hard up.

  The trick tonight would be not screwing things up by mentioning Roger. Thanks to the way she’d run her mouth last night, Josh suspected she still carried a torch for her ex.

  His words replayed in her mind. I’ve heard that name a lot tonight. You sure you’re ready to move on? Three little words from her would banish that doubt forever, but she’d promised Roger she’d keep his secret. If she didn’t want to break a promise, she needed to reach him today and get his permission to tell Josh the truth. Not necessarily a problem, except Roger and Doug were floating in the Caribbean somewhere between Miami and Sint Maarten about now.