The Firefighter. Susan Lyons
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The salesclerk, an older woman, is occupied with two giggling girls who are picking out items for one’s honeymoon. She waves me toward the back of the store.
There, I find a decent-sized fitting room. When I change into the black lingerie, the mirror gives me back a reflection that makes me grin. Just wait until Mick sees me like this. If he liked me in baggy PJs, he’ll love me in black lace.
The fitting room door begins to open and I let out a squeak, then see it’s Mick, carrying slinky and lacy clothes in all shades. His eyes widen. “Knew you’d look good in that.” He drops the other clothes on the chair. “Gives a bloke ideas.”
Then he locks the door and pulls me into his arms, leaning down, slanting his mouth across mine, beginning a kiss that’s soft and seductive. He doesn’t give me a chance to respond; his lips are on the prowl—across my cheek, over to my ear. He sucks the lobe, darts his tongue inside. I imagine that sexy mouth on my pussy and feel my tap pants growing damp.
“Oh yeah,” he whispers, “lots of ideas.” He pulls me up against him, so I can’t avoid knowing what kind of ideas. His cock’s hard and all my female parts quicken in response.
I groan. “Mick, we can’t.”
“Can too. Just have to be quick. And quiet.”
This is insane. We’ll be caught. Arrested, or at the very least, embarrassed and tossed out on the street.
Me in a cami and tap pants, Mick with his shorts and boxer briefs down around his ankles, which is where he’s shoved them while I’ve been making a list of the “cons” of doing this. There’s one very big “pro,” though. His hungry erection, staring up at me.
And another. The hunger in my own body, that’s been building since we woke up.
He brushes the pile of lingerie off the chair, finds a condom in his shorts pocket, sits down. “Come here,” he murmurs, sheathing himself.
My aching pussy won’t let me say no. Hurriedly I step out of the tap pants then I’m climbing onto his lap, facing him. He reaches between us, eases himself inside me as I lower and stretch to encompass him. His arms go around my shoulders and then he’s kissing me, not soft and teasing any more but demanding, urgent.
I kiss him back the same way, my body lifting and falling in a rhythm that’s beyond thought, beyond control. Purely physical, building the friction, the tension, driving toward climax.
I whimper and his kiss swallows the sound.
There’s a light tap on the door and we both freeze.
“Yes?” I call, voice strained.
Mick shifts position and I can barely stifle a moan.
“Everything all right in there?” the woman calls.
“Fine. Good.”
His eyes meet mine, full of laughter.
“Got the right sizes?” she asks.
Now it’s a giggle I’m stifling. “Perfect fit so far.”
“Sorry I’ve been so tied up with those other girls.”
I borrow one of Mick’s expressions. “No worries. I’m doing fine on my own.”
He rocks his hips to remind me—as if I needed any reminding—that I’m definitely not doing this on my own. My muscles contract involuntarily, gripping him, and the laughter fades from his eyes as the blue deepens and his expression goes steamy. Want you, it says. Now.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” she calls. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I’m all set.”
Mick and I hold still as footsteps retreat, then I hear three female voices begin to chatter in the distance.
“Got all you need?” Mick whispers in my ear, thrusting his cock high into me and making me gasp.
“Oh, yeah!”
We pick up where we left off, in a fast, driving rhythm that quickly brings us both to the brink of orgasm. I press myself hard against him as he thrusts up, and my body surges into a shuddering climax that triggers his.
We don’t have the luxury of enjoying the post-orgasmic glow. Hurriedly he adjusts his clothes, I wipe myself with tissues and step into the tap pants. “Guess I’m taking this outfit.”
“And all the rest.” He gestures to the pile on the floor. “Don’t try them on, or we’ll get busted for sure.”
I imagine trying on each outfit, having sex in each. He eases the fitting room door open and peeks out. “Coast’s clear. You go first. I’ll slip out while the clerk’s wrapping that stuff.”
It doesn’t take us long to finish the rest of the chores on my do-today list. We drop parcels off at his place, I freshen up, then we roar off to the hospital.
I love the feel of Mick’s body as I slide close and wrap my arms around him. It’s funny, this chemistry thing between us. It’s there all the time, and I feel sexier and more sexually aware than I ever have with a guy, but it’s like glowing embers. When there’s time and privacy, we’ll blow on them and they’ll burst into flame, but for now we’ll enjoy the warm glow.
When he parks the bike at the hospital, Mick says, “Want me to wait or come with you?”
I like it that he offers. How many men would want to spend time with a girl’s grandmother? And I’m pretty sure Nana—the Delia I got to know on the plane—would enjoy meeting a hot firie.
We get her room number and I hurry down the hall, eager to reassure myself she’s okay. I step into the room, Mick behind me, then stop in surprise.
My beloved grandmother, leg in a cast, is sitting propped up on pillows, her face glowing as she chats with a man who’s seated in the chair by the bed. His face, handsome behind a silver beard, is glowing too. And he’s holding her hand.
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