The Fireman_BWWM Romance Series Page 2

  "You can do all that?"

  "I'm a nurse! Of course, I can."

  "I had no idea you were a nurse. My ma was a nurse."

  "Was she? In the local hospital?"

  I'd started walking toward my kitchen door and Lance followed me, limping as he walked off the pain from the fall.

  "Yeah, the local hospital."

  "What's her name? I might know her."

  "She died three years ago."

  My nose wrinkled.

  "Wait, Nancy L. Cortez is your mother?"

  "Yup."

  "You took her maiden name," I worked out the relationship out loud.

  "Yes. I did."

  "She was lovely. A pretty blonde thing. She never hurt a soul."

  "Sounds like my ma."

  I pushed the door open.

  "Well come on in."

  I guided Lance to a bar stool at my kitchen counter and bustled to my bathroom to get my First Aid supply kit. When I came back out, I found him holding a picture frame.

  "Are those your sisters?"

  "No, my girlfriends."

  "No husband?"

  I shook my head.

  "Really?"

  He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

  "Why the face?"

  I began dabbing a cotton pad with iodine. Distraction would be good for him. There were bits of dirt and gravel stuck in his wound and it would hurt like hell to pull the pieces out of where he'd been scraped.

  "You seem like the kind of woman who would have a husband."

  "I have eight cats!"

  Lance laughed.

  "What kind of husband would let me get away with that?"

  I dabbed the iodine soaked cotton ball on his shoulder and he sucked air into his lungs sharply.

  "Does it hurt?"

  "No, not really."

  He winced again and his face reddened.

  "I'll be finished soon."

  With his wound cleaned, I wrapped gauze around it and wrapped a bandage around his shoulder.

  "Good. That should be fine. Any other scrapes?"

  He shook his head.

  "Good."

  "You're sure you don't have a husband?"

  "I'm sure."

  Was this young man flirting with me? I'd have to put an end to this.

  I added, "I've been celibate for twenty years."

  "Woah."

  I smirked. Again, he seemed surprised. Telling most men about my two-decade-long vow of celibacy never failed to scare them off.

  "Was that supposed to scare me?"

  My mouth hung open.

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  "I mean, I can only think of one reason why you would mention your vow of celibacy. You're trying to scare me."

  He stood, all 6'5" of him towering over me.

  "What are you getting at?"

  "I know your type... You think by telling me you're celibate, I won't pursue you."

  "Pursue me? Who said anything about pursuing me?"

  He grinned, "I did. Right now. I'm interested in pursuing you. Is that a problem?"

  "N-no. I'm not looking for anyone!"

  "Yeah right. I saw the way you looked at me. I saw that filthy hot desire burning in your eyes. You can deny it Zelda, but I won't believe you."

  "You're crazy!"

  "If I'm crazy, why haven't you kicked me out of your house yet? Why haven't you told me to get on my way and to leave you the hell alone?"

  I stammered and then frustrated I threw my hands up in defeat.

  "Get out then!"

  "You're not serious..."

  He stepped closer to me, his musk emanating from his flesh, the warm flesh I'd just touched and bandaged and nearly healed.

  "No... I... I... Thank you for saving Homer!" I blurted out.

  He grinned.

  "No problem. Now, Miss Zelda, I told you I'm pursuing you. And I need an answer now. I can't wait. Are you down, or not?"

  Younger men had grown a lot bolder since my younger days! This thirty-five-year-old walked up into my house like he owned the place and in a few minutes flat he'd not only made his intentions clear but he'd put pressure on me to make my mind up. 20 years of celibacy flashed before my eyes in an instant. In those two decades, not a single man had ever been that up front with me. That was all I'd wanted. That was all I'd ever been waiting for.

  "Yes," I replied breathily, "I'm down."

  "Perfect."

  "But it's been twenty years!"

  "So what? It doesn't close down. Trust me Zelda, I'll make it worth your while. I've fantasized about a woman like you for a long time..."

  A woman like me? What did that mean? Lance didn't give me time to question what he meant. He didn’t give me occasion to turn him down either. He swooped in and scooped me off my feet. I squealed as he spread my thighs apart and pressed me against the wall, kissing me furiously.

  “Ohhh!”

  He effortlessly supported my hips and thighs as he worked his hands up my dress, savoring the touch of my flesh with his palms as his lips traveled all over my neck and down my collar bone. I’d been left to my fantasies for so long that a man’s mere touch instantly dampened the space between my thighs.

  I whimpered as he pushed my panties to the side and without hesitation, thrust his fingers between my legs into my sopping wetness.

  “OHHH!” I screamed louder.

  Lance smirked and began to pump his fingers in and out of my tight hole. I cried out as my wetness clamped hard around his fingers. I let out a squeal as I came…

  That had been incredible. In a few short seconds, I’d gone from warmed up to blazing hot. I couldn’t wait for more… Lance’s fingers hadn’t been enough. I grew ravenous with my desire for him which seemed to mount faster than it had for any man.

  After a twenty year hiatus, I would break my fast and immediately succumb to the desires of this dominant man decades my junior. I couldn’t have been more invigorated. Heat throbbed in my chest as my heart attempted to escape from my ribcage. My eyes glowed hot with desire and I reached forward for his cock, gripping the hard member through his jeans.

  “Take those off young man,” I ordered.

  He moved my hand away.

  “I make the rules around here. You might be bossy but remember, I’m the boss.”

  He turned me around and pressed my stomach up against the wall, hiking my skirt up as his lips wrapped around the flesh on my neck and sucked hard. I moaned as he pulled my flesh into his mouth, sending shooting jolts of pain and pleasure surging through my spine.

  Instead of removing his cock from his pants, he got down on his knees. He slipped my panties off over my hips and waist, exposing my full trimmed bush.

  “Daddy can’t wait to taste you…” he growled.

  Our interaction had escalated so quickly that I wondered if he’d planned this all along. Or maybe Turtle had… Either way, I wasn’t complaining.

  He spread my thighs apart for his pleasure and darted his tongue between my legs. He lapped carelessly around my folds, surprising my flesh with ever touch of his warm tongue. Pressed against the wall, heat rushed to my cheeks and I cried out in pleasure each time his tongue darted deep beneath my folds and stroked my clit.

  After licking my wetness, he stroked his tongue all the way back until it touched my tender, forbidden hole.

  “OHHH!” I cried out.

  Unfazed by my response, Lance grabbed my thighs and continued, tasting my forbidden backdoor until I moaned and bucked my hips from the force of orgasmic pleasure that surged through me.

  I came so hard that my juices dripped down my thighs. Lance lapped up every last drop of my juices and then got to his feet, ready to take me from behind.

  “I hope you’re ready for this…” he murmured.

  “Yes daddy!”

  He removed his hardness from his pants and pressed it against my wetness.

  “Can I?”

  “I’ve been tested. It’s safe.”

/>   “Good. Same.”

  “No chance of…”

  “No. I went through menopause a long time ago honey,” I assured him.

  “Good…”

  His breath warmed my neck as he pressed his flesh into mine and proceeded to sink his cock between my legs. I cried out as his massive hardness split me in half, spreading my legs further apart as he shoved every inch inside of me.

  I slammed my palms into the wall and jutted my hips back to meet his thrusting as he pressed over ten inches of thick throbbing cock between my legs. I whimpered as he started to pump into me harder.

  “Yes! Yes Lance!!!”

  I moaned louder and louder as he thrust into me harder and faster. We both worked up a quick sweat, appropriate for a sweltering hot summer day. I cried out as he drove into me deeper and gripped my hips to allow him better access to my drooling pussy.

  He pumped into me again and again until I came with explosive force. I cried out as my juices squirted all over his wetness and dripped down my thighs. Lance grunted as he kept thrusting into me harder and harder. It wouldn’t be long until this powerful fireman reached a climax of his own.

  “Don’t stop!” I whimpered.

  He groaned and thrust into me deeper, delivering more pleasure than I could have ever expected directly to my core. I exploded in another climax and even more of my creamy juices coated his thick veiny cock.

  Lance couldn’t hold back any longer and he groaned as he erupted, spurting thick rivers of cum between my legs. I gasped as my hair stuck to my forehead and my dress stuck to my thighs from the mixture of sweat and our combined juices. He left his thick cock inside me until every last drop of his cum entered my wetness.

  When he pulled away from me, he turned me around and kissed me on the lips right away.

  “This time tomorrow, I’ll be back for more. I’ve got another job to take care of.”

  Before I could stop him, my nasty, filthy fireman dressed and walked out the front door. I should have been shaken, shocked and maybe even disgusted but to tell you the truth? I wasn’t. I couldn’t wait for him to come back the next day and give me more of what I desperately wanted… a hot young stud with the stamina of ten thousand men.

  I fixed my dress and made myself another glass of iced tea. I picked up Homer and took him to sit on my lap in the living room as I reached for the phone. I had to call Ronice and tell her exactly what had happened to me. I didn’t know if she’d believe me, but I had to tell someone.

  Otherwise, this might as well have been a dream.

  The End.

  2

  FREE SAMPLE: The Builder

  My head felt like it was on the verge of busting open.

  The sound of power tools outside was proving a constant distraction to my work, which was already going poorly enough as it was. I'd thought, by taking my papers home from the university and grading them in the privacy of my own study, I might actually manage to get something done. My students had this irritating habit of totally disregarding my office hours, and swinging by just whenever they happened to need something, making it next to impossible for me to accomplish anything.

  A woman professor not receiving the respect she deserves from her students? Shocking, I know.

  Although it was really more just a matter of being a woman, period. As a Gender Studies professor for the past twenty-five years, nothing should have surprised me at this point. And it's true, I'd made significant headway over the years, and I would argue that the cause of feminism has never been stronger than it is today. Still, though, when you're actually dealing with the day to day bullshit as just about any working woman can tell you, the notion of genuine progress starts to feel less and less defined.

  I can't even begin to tell you what a common thing it was for men to simply look right through me. Both my students, as well as my colleagues. Red-blooded males in their late teens and early twenties who found themselves forced into my classes as electives, spending the whole time talking and flirting, distracting the other students, and refusing to take me seriously whenever I called them out on it. Other professors who would talk right over me at faculty meetings, interrupting me mid-sentence. And the list goes on and on.

  I don't even want to get into my ex-husband, a sociology professor who impressed me with his seemingly well-intentioned feminist ideals, but then spent an entire year cheating on me behind my back with not one, but two of this young female students. Somehow, he managed to hold onto his job after all that, and perhaps predictably, his standing actually improved among our colleagues once the two of us split, while I was humiliated and made to feel like some sort of social pariah for the next several months.

  And I know I might sound bitter about all of this, but frankly, I have good reason to be. My girl friends were my only source of hope: Shontal, Tasha, Kishawn and even Zelda. Zelda and Kishawn kept me strong in my faith while Tasha and Shontal were known for walking on the wild-side and always encouraged me to get out of my shell and relax more.

  How could I relax?

  Over twenty-five years, I'd watched the cause of gender equality give the appearance of improving by leaps and bounds, but as far as what was going on right under my nose, it was beginning to feel more and more like a lost cause with each day that passes.

  I supposed I could be considered a success as far as that goes. There was some consolation in knowing that I'd changed at least a few young women's lives for the better, inspired them in their careers, or at the very least, helped them to recognize their own self-worth. And even if that hadn't been the case, even if I'd spent all that time simply spouting hot air, only to have it fall on deaf ears, I'd at least done well by myself as far as a career went. I mean, if I hadn't been successful, I wouldn't be sitting here in my cozy colonial home, sitting back in a leather desk chair with a glass of scotch at hand. And I certainly wouldn't be able to afford the renovations I'd been paying out the wazoo for over the past several months.

  Those renovations, incidentally, being a significant player in my present distractions.

  I'd been facing away from the window until now, but presently I turned to open up the curtains, giving up all pretense of successfully grading the papers I had at hand.

  A shiver ran through my body as I caught sight of the man outside in my backyard, steadily at work on the construction of a gazebo. Derek was his name. He was already a tempting enough distraction as it was- tall, bulky with muscle, a light film of stubble across his chin. But to make matters even worse, he'd since taken off his shirt in the setting summer sun. Now, as he leaned and strained and shuffled building materials around through my backyard, I was treated to an absolute visual smorgasbord. I found myself utterly entranced by the play of the golden light against his straining musculature. His back rippling, his arms pulsing, rivulets of sweat glistening as they poured along his broad, heaving chest, his six-pack abs, and slid down along the maddeningly entrenched V-lines of his Adonis' muscles.

  It didn't take me long at all to go from annoyed leering to outright ogling my delectable little construction worker, and I felt a familiar stirring between my legs as I watched him, one that hadn't properly been satisfied in years.

  I watched as he bent over, the top of his jeans sliding down along his backside, the crack of his ass peeking just into view, as well as the very tops of two tight, highly sculpted cheeks.

  My breath caught in my throat.

  I felt like a teenager all of the sudden, an adolescent lust awakened in me that threatened to overpower me. I knew it was absurd, but I couldn't look away. I nearly licked my lips at him, and secretly wished that those jeans would inch down just a little bit further, and further, and then slide the rest of the way down while they were at it.

  Then, without warning, he reached back and hiked them back up again. His body began to turn, seeming to move in my direction, and I panicked.

  I grabbed the curtains and yanked them tightly shut so that barely a sliver of outside light was permitted to seep
into the room.

  I leaned against the wall, breathless, shaking, trying to understand my overreaction to this whole situation.

  At first, it was a kind of moral indignation against myself. I was objectifying this man the way I spent my days rallying against men doing to women. Seeing him like a cut of meat hanging in a butcher's shop, rather than as a human being (although, to be fair, if you'd have seen him, I could hardly be faulted for that...)

  >END OF SAMPLE<

  Finish book: mybook.to/TheBuilder