Firehouse 69, Book 1
When a roof collapse kills his best friend and his girlfriend clears out his apartment and leaves, firefighter John Cooper knows he shouldn’t sit alone in his empty apartment. But when he accepts an invitation to Club LaForge, his feet get colder with every step he takes inside.
The sights, sounds and smells of the BDSM club make him sweat, and not because he’s turned off. Yet he can’t bring himself to admit—to himself, or to his luscious guide, Moira—that this lifestyle might just be what he needs.
An experienced BDSM trainer, Moira senses that Coop is not only a Dom in the making, but exactly what she’s been looking for. A man to be her lover and her Dom. The only problem is, Coop isn’t looking for anything complicated.
Moira’s willing to start slow and easy, but even once there’s enough trust to bring Coop into her world—and to her Dom—she’s still worried he’ll look for the nearest exit.
Warning: Do you smell smoke? Don’t worry, it’s just a hot and sexy firefighter getting down and dirty. Contains BDSM scenes, ropes, floggers, some spanking, some sharing, and some five-alarm sex.
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So here she was, edgy and needy. So excited she was afraid she’d be a useless lay because she’d come like a rocket. And she wanted to be the best he’d ever had.
Wanted him to want her even a fraction as much as she wanted him.
Watching him play with his friends, watching as he’d been hammered time and again for his inattention and then watching those spurts of power and speed had proved he was in some damn shape. All hills and hollows and oodles of stamina. And now she knew how hard the muscle was cloaking that tall, angular frame. She wanted everything he’d bring to bed.
When they reached the parking lot, he dragged her straight to his car. “We’ll get yours later.”
All during the five-minute drive to his apartment, his hand remained on her thigh, anchoring her there, claiming her in a way. Something that kept her hot.
Moira waited silently beside Coop as he fumbled with his keys at the apartment door.
Her whole body felt tight and hard. And she was shivering despite the heat. He opened the door, shoved it wide and then stood back to allow her inside.
She stepped over the threshold. The soft bottoms of her flip-flops snicked on the floor, the sound echoing in the empty space. She glanced left into a bare living room, dark blond bamboo floors that looked dusty, a bundle of brown packing paper sitting square in the middle of the floor.
“Wow. She cleaned you out.”
“Doesn’t matter.” A muscle worked at the edge of his jaw, tensing.
She stepped toward him, reaching up to soothe it, hoping the tension was for her, not that other woman. “You said she left a bed.”
His gaze flickered toward the ceiling. “There’s not any sheets or pillows.”
She arched a brow. “Baby, they’d only get in the way.” Taking a deep breath, Moira turned and lifted her T-shirt over her head. She let it fall from a fingertip as she began walking slowly toward the wooden staircase, Coop on her heels.
She left her flip-flops at the bottom of the stairs and reached behind her to unclasp her bra. Midway up the staircase, she tossed the bra over her shoulder and smiled when she heard a slow inhalation, knowing he’d caught it and was sniffing at her perfume.
She wagged her hips, exaggerating their sway even as she undid the snap of her jeans shorts and pushed them halfway down her hips. At the top of the stairs, she paused, let them drop and then glanced over her shoulder.
He stared back, his glance sweeping over her ass, crushing her bra in his fist. Again, his sweatpants stretched over his erection.
“Which way?” she asked.
He jerked his chin to the left.
When she turned back and strode toward the door on the left, she felt fingers scrape the waistband of her panties. The elastic stretched and then gave, and he tore them away.
Naked now, she walked faster as her chest rose and fell in deep, excited swells.
She walked into the room. There were no curtains hanging from the brass rods. Sunlight gleamed between the slats of the blinds. She noted the bed with its bare mattress, a closet with clothes spilling out onto the floor.
Again, she glanced at the bed. Although the top looked pristine, it felt dirty that they’d fuck on a naked mattress. Their fluid would sink into the pale cream fabric. And he didn’t care.
How did she want this to begin? She knew she needed him. Needed to feel the stretch of him quickly because her knees were shaking, her chest and arms shivering. But she didn’t want to be in charge. Wanted him to take control.
Moira crawled onto the mattress and lay down on her belly. She pulled her hair to one side and stared at Coop. He was still standing in the doorway, curling his fists at his sides. The look in his eyes was predatory, feral. He needed a bath. Sweat glistened on his exposed skin. Dirt smudged his cheeks and arms. There were bits of grass on his clothes and hair.
The sight of him made her nipples so aroused she pushed up slightly to rub her chest on the bed side-to-side as she stared back at him.
At last, he moved, taking a step inside the doorway. “Aren’t you going to show me?” Coop said, his voice silky and deep.
“Show you what?”
“What you want fucked?”
Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters. She has published over a hundred thirty erotic stories in multiple genres and lengths. She is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Montlake Romance, Running Press and Samhain Publishing.
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