Fire Wolf

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An Excerpt From: FIRE WOLF

Copyright © ANH LEOD, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“Wanna fuck?”

The sultry voice behind Smokie Monahan sure didn’t sound like any of his coworkers. No women worked in the Ladder Company One firehouse. That word, “fuck”, jolted him from contemplation of a new forty-eight-inch, flat-screen television. His cock jerked too as blood moved south. Had the newly outfitted breakroom been redecorated just for his pleasure? He had noted the new lock on the inside of the door.

Olivia Bilson posed in the doorway as he turned to check out the body belonging to the voice. Hot damn. He’d had a hard-on for Olivia since he’d first seen her in a bikini when he was fourteen. She’d been in her mid-twenties then, he guessed, but the last ten years hadn’t dimmed her special brand of high-octane sexy.

She wore a gray pencil skirt that outlined her full hips and slim legs. A fitted black jacket didn’t cover all the plunging cleavage her yellow silk blouse displayed to perfection. Her breasts were still high and rounded on top, like melons.

His palms began to itch.

“Excuse me?” Had he really heard her correctly?

Olivia glided forward, opened her closed fingers and tossed something on the coffee table. “Roll the dice, fireman.”

He glanced down and saw a pair of dice. Not ordinary dice though. Sex dice. He grinned. If he wasn’t dreaming this, his morning had just hit the red zone. The top of one die ordered him to lick and the other said kiss.

“Someone could come in.” He stomped his foot and felt the reverberation through his lower leg. Felt real. Not a dream at all.

Olivia slinked back to the door and pushed it until the lock clicked then turned the bolt. Ambient noise from outside stilled.

All Smokie could hear now was the sound of his own breath. Too bad the dice didn’t order him to wag because if he had a tail in this form that’s what it would do. Or burn which was the state of his blood right now.

“The door is locked.” She smiled.

He licked his lips.

She glanced at the dice. “I don’t think you’re supposed to lick yourself.”

“Involuntary reaction.” His voice was a mere croak.

Her lips curved. “Is it hot in here?” Her hips swayed from side to side as she moved toward a water dispenser and took a cup.

“It’s July. You’re overdressed.”

The plastic bottle did its glug-glug thing as her cup filled. She placed her lips on its rim. Smokie watched her neck as she swallowed, imagined the water was his cum riding down her throat. He felt a drop of pre-cum dampening his shorts.

“Just came from a meeting,” she said. “So thirsty.”

Back when he was fourteen, he could never have imagined, wasn’t even capable of the complex emotions this situation gave him.

Sex in the firehouse wasn’t unusual. Firefighters liked to blow off steam. Hell, he’d even participated a time or two, but not with the likes of Olivia Bilson. She was no hose bunny.

“Olivia, what are you doing here?”

She set a languid hand on her hip. Her dark brown eyes were intent on his. “Isn’t it obvious?” She blew him a kiss. “There, you’ve licked and I’ve kissed. Now roll the dice.”

He grabbed her cup, tossed the contents down his throat and threw it behind him.

Olivia’s eyebrows rose as it bounced off the wall directly above an open garbage can and dropped inside. “That can needs a lid.”

“What are you, an interior decorator?” Confused, but unwilling to back down, he grabbed the dice and dropped them on the table. They spun for a moment on the new, slick surface.

The dice stopped—touch, taste.

I’m a dead man.