Hot for the Fireman

Chapter 3, Part 2

She complied, pushing each one back with her toes. Though she still faced away from him, Olivia sensed herself become even smaller than the giant standing behind her. If she had to guess, she'd say the top of her head might reach the top of his chest, if she was lucky.

One large hand made its way between her body and the wall, gliding up her stomach, through her cleavage, and over her collarbones. His touch set off sparks in her skin and fanned the flames growing wilder within. She tried to regulate her breathing as proof to herself that he wasn't affecting her to the point she had no control over her body, and she almost succeeded...until his hand slid up to loosely wrap around her throat, just enough to remind her of his strength, his power.

It should have freaked her out, should have yanked her back to her senses.

Instead, she released a shuddering sigh and tipped her head back to rest against the hard muscles of his shoulder.

"That's it, baby. Give over to me." He gave her throat a light squeeze before his hand retreated down her body. "Tonight you're all mine. Aren't you?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"That's good. Because I take care of what's mine, and I'm going to show you what it's like when a man puts your pleasure first."

Dear. God.

Without any instructions or commentary, Wolf dragged her thong down and off, then presumably tossed it over with the rest of her clothes. She bent her head to peer down her body and caught glimpses of his hands as he touched her. He remained crouched behind her and ran his hands up her calves, over the sensitive skin at the backs of her knees, and straight up her thighs to knead the globes of her ass.

His touch wasn't gentle. His fingers dug into her flesh, his hands squeezed, his mouth tasted. She felt his hot breath bathe her skin as he dragged his face over her. A myriad of sensations made her head spin as it tried to sort them all out. Soft lips, wet tongue, scratchy beard, blunt scrapes of teeth...

Finally, Wolf turned her by her hips so that she faced him. Still crouched as he was, his face now lined up directly with her sex. She plastered herself against the wall to put as much distance between it and him, but there wasn't any point. Going through the wall wasn't an option, and he only moved closer.

"You're turned on as fuck, Livvie." His deep voice sent vibrations through her sensitive body. She squeezed her thighs together in hopes of easing the ache it left. "The proof is right here in this sweet little pussy of yours." He swiped a thick finger through her slick folds, adding pressure as it passed over her clit, causing her hips to chase his touch and a whimper to escape her lips.

She needed him, badly—more than she could ever remember needing another man.

Wolf unfolded to his full height, banding his arms around her waist on the way up to lift her off the floor as he strode farther into the hotel room. "Let's get more comfortable," he said, setting her down in front of the posh microfiber couch that faced the foot of the bed. "Have a seat, gorgeous."

She lowered herself on the center cushion, staring up at him as he unbuttoned his shirt in slow motion. Little by little, he exposed peeks of tan skin as the edges of the shirt moved back and forth with his motion. As he reached the very last button, she held her breath. She felt his eyes burning into her, but her gaze was locked onto his chest and wouldn't let go.

Finally, he peeled the sides back and shrugged it off his large shoulders, revealing muscular perfection adorned by a set of dog tags hanging between his pecs. Damn, those were so sexy. A military boy, which meant that Wolf wasn't just a nickname. It was his call sign, as much his name as the one given to him by his parents. The man intrigued her more and more every minute.

Despite several raised scars, Wolf had one of the finest bodies she'd ever come across, whether in movies, magazines, or other mass media. Certainly the finest she'd ever seen personally by...was saying "a million" hyperbole? She didn't think so. A million seemed pretty accurate to her.

He had more muscles than she knew existed in the human torso. Rounded shoulders, cut pecs with dusky nipples, blocks of abs, and deep slashes over his hips angled in a V that disappeared beneath his low-slung dark jeans. And the sexy icing on the man cake was the smattering of dark hair on his chest that picked up again below his navel to form one hell of a goody trail.

The clinking of metal on metal drew her attention to his fingers undoing his belt buckle, then the button and zipper. Seemingly content to just give himself some breathing room, he let the two sides hang open and blatantly palmed his erection over his underwear, moving it up and down like he was priming a pump. Holy shit, who knew watching a man touch himself could be so hot?

"Open your legs," he said in a gruff voice.

As she separated her legs, she pictured him loaded with gear and commanding others just as he did with her. Orders tripped off his lips naturally, and the look in his eyes said he was used to being obeyed, in the bedroom and out. The image sent another rush of wet heat between her legs.

He lightly kicked her ankles farther out, then sank to his knees and hauled her butt to the edge of the couch so her head and shoulders were braced against the back of it. When he held her open with his hands pressing out on her inner thighs, his pupils completely engulfed the bright amber of his eyes.

"Fucking amazing," he rasped, working her folds open. He swiped his thumbs through her own lubrication and spread it over every part of her exposed sex. Sensations of rough against smooth flooded her until it was a struggle not to squirm under his touch. "Your cunt is dripping, begging me to use my tongue to lap up every drop it spills. And there's nothing else I'd rather do right now than make you come all over my mouth."

Holy hell. Every time he talked dirty, his words strummed over her clit, playing her as effectively as his fingers. She'd never been spoken to like that, much less had a man refer to her dripping "cunt." She'd always thought it a vile word, but Wolf said it with a kind of reverence in his voice, and it made her impossibly wetter.

When she realized he meant to make good on his last statement and started lowering his head, she panicked. Her hands shot out from under her and pushed on the top of his head to stop him. "Don't do that."

"Why not?" Wolf sat back on his heels, turning his steady gaze on her. His voice deepened and sounded gruff, barely controlled. Every bit the epitome of the wild man she imagined him to be.

She struggled with the words. Angie had always told her it was the most asinine thing a female could say, but she couldn't help it. "I've never been comfortable with...that."

"Have you ever let anyone try to change your opinion?"

She bit her lip and shook her head.

A wicked grin curved his mouth. "Then you can thank me later."

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