WILD PLEASURE {short erotic stories} Chapter 75: Fired Up (1)

“You found our private channel.” Her hotshot’s rough, smoky voice flooded the airwaves and the small lookout cabin. Too big for the 14×14 space, his sinful Cajun accent had Hannah imagining long bayou nights.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Her fingers slipped from the dial.

“That’s good.” His familiar, low rumble reached her clearly despite the fifty-odd miles between them. “I’d hate to think I was the only one countin’ down the hours.”

Oh, she liked that. Cole Henry, waiting for nightfall and her. Some days, the days when the Big Bear Rogues got called out into the field on fire duty, ten o’clock came and went without hearing his voice. He stood her up those nights, but so far he’d always come back.

He didn’t apologize, though. Her Cajun was too matter-of-fact; he’d told her the fires came first. Based on the size of the smokes she’d spotted from her watchtower earlier today, she was damned lucky he wasn’t out in the field again.

“You had a busy day today.” Please don’t let him be too tired. The watchtower fifty miles east had spotted an impressive smoke yesterday. After that call in, it had been all hands on deck, and she’d known the Big Bear Rogues would be headed out. Maybe the fire hadn’t burned as hot or as long as expected, or maybe her Rogues had managed to hit the sweet spot.

“You spotters keep us busy.” She heard the slow smile filling his voice. Her shyness amused him, but he always gave her these few minutes of conversation.

“Busy’s good.” The breathless catch was back in her own voice. God, why was she so aroused just chitchatting with him?

Because she knew what was coming next.

“A one-hundred-fourteen-acre burn. Eight hours digging line and we barely contained the fire.” His bald words painted an all-too-clear picture of the harsh conditions he’d faced down in the field. “We had the trucks out and the tankers dropping slurry all afternoon. Summer’s only going to get worse. Things are heating up in the park.”

 “I should let you go.” She ran her fingers along the mic, rubbing the cool metal with her fingertips. She was too damned hot.

That soft male chuckle filled her tower again, followed by the unmistakable rustle of fabric. “Not a chance in hell, sha. Lie back.”

Not a question or a suggestion.

An order.

Like always, her pulse skipped a beat. Dangerous. She didn’t need a man

to give her orders, but Cole did it so well. And there was something about him. She wanted to give him everything he asked for. He shocked her and pushed her. And some part of her enjoyed that, enjoyed the erotic nervousness that filled her up whenever she heard his voice. She’d never meet him face-to-face, which made doing this so much simpler. That, and the dark night outside. Just her and the lonely airwaves, alone in a fire watchtower fifty miles from the nearest base camp.

No one had to know.

“Hannah.” The warning growl of his voice stroked over her nerve endings like he was right there touching her skin as he bared her. He always knew when she didn’t obey. So she loved pushing him, knowing there was nothing he could do, but so, so many things he would do if he ever got his hands on her.

This was fantasy, she reminded herself. Naughty, but not explicitly forbidden, although only because the employee handbook hadn’t been updated since 1960. She knew better than to take on one of the hotshots in real life, because the real-life Big Bear Rogues lived up to their name—big, rough, sensual men who would take no prisoners in bed. She didn’t need or want that kind of intensity on a permanent basis.

“Give me a moment.” Dragging the microphone with her, she lay down on her mattress and positioned the mic on the floor by her head. If he wasn’t out in the field, he always called her right on the stroke of ten, so she should have been ready for him. She always made him wait, though, because she loved drawing out their game. The wash-worn cotton sheets were deliciously soft, and her old UC Davis T-shirt rode up over her hips and belly. That shirt and a pair of silky panties were all she had on. The cabin didn’t come with curtains, but fifty miles inside Sequoia National Park in a thirty-foot-high watchtower, she wasn’t worried about Peeping Toms.

“Lose the panties.”

 Her fingers curled obediently in the lace ribbons. Taking his orders was her decadent secret, a naughty self-indulgence she didn’t have to explain away. Arousal flooded her pussy, full and warm. The sensations would only get better the longer they played. She’d take what he offered simply because she wanted it.

Wanted him.

His breathing hitched louder, grew rougher. “Is your pussy bare?”

She sighed, hearing that betraying catch. “I’m pulling my panties down

my thighs now.”

Let him imagine that. He wasn’t the only one who could play this game.

She pulled the scrap of fabric down slowly, spinning out the moment and the sensations. With no one to see, she gave herself over to the erotic rub of the silk and lace against her sensitive skin. Drawing her legs up, she tugged the panties free and set them beside her on the mattress.

She turned her head toward the mic. “Your turn.”

Buttons popped free from a pair of worn blue jeans as booted heels hit the table fifty miles away. His cock would spring free, the heavy length probably stretching deliciously far up his flat belly. She’d never seen him, but she’d seen enough of the Big Bear Rogues to know that her hotshot would be as fine looking as he was rough around the edges.

“Talk to me,” she said.

“Talkin’s not what I wan’ to be doin’.”

Maybe not, but she wasn’t ready to take on the real man. Cole Henry

would be every bit as much in charge in the flesh as he was over the airwaves. This way, he was her fantasy and she was ultimately the one in control. One flick of her finger hitting the switch beside the mic and the connection between them vanished. Besides, even if she wanted more than a fantasy lover, the distance between her watchtower and base camp was too great. No one would make that trek for casual sex.

“Imagine this.” His voice grew rougher and deeper, a needy masculine growl. “You’re naked on this mighty fine desk I have here in my office and I’ve got you all spread out, so I can touch you.”

Shifting on her sheets, she imagined the cool, slick surface. The erotic shock of being naked and exposed where she shouldn’t be.

“This way, see, when I step between your pretty thighs, you can’t shut me out none. I’m right there and you’re open and goin’ nowhere. You know that, right?”

 “Yes.”

“I’m goin’ to put my hands on your thighs, press you wider still. I want to look at you some, see where I’ll be puttin’ my fingers and my tongue. My dick. Make sure you’re wet and ready to take me.”

“How?”

“You got me on my knees, sha.” There was nothing submissive about his words, however. No, his words were pure dominance. Even on his knees, he’d be the one in charge, controlling her pleasure and her body with erotic ease. “One small tug and there you are, right on the edge, and I’m feastin’.”

The hard edge of the desk digging into her ass, leaving her off balance. Knowing he could see all of her and how very much she needed his touch. Yearned for him. God, she loved his imagination.

“All I got to do is lean forward to taste you. You like the thought of that? My tongue dragging up through your folds, learnin’ how sweet you are? First one side, then the other. I’m takin’ my time, lickin’ real slow. You wan’ me to suck your clit?” He paused and she knew he’d wait for the words—all night if he had to, because Cole Henry was one patient man.

“Please.”

His throaty chuckle unlocked something in her. “I should make you say it, sha. You’re awful shy, sweet thing.”

Only in real life. This didn’t count. Putting her fingers on her pussy because she was done waiting for him, she pressed hard, then bucked as a spasm of intense pleasure ripped through her. Oh, God.

“Of course, maybe we should be payin’ more attention to your nipples. Just so you don’ come so fast. You don’ want this to be over quick, do you?”

She didn’t want to. No, she wanted to stay right where she was, swirling her fingers in her heated folds. Her small whimper gave her away.

“Uh-uh,” he said. “You’re almost there. That means we’re goin’ to slow things down.”

“Cole—”

“Reach up under your shirt,” he instructed. His firm voice only aroused her further. He knew what she needed and he’d give it to her. On his terms. “Touch your nipples.”

She did as he commanded, sliding her hands beneath the T-shirt and rubbing her palms over the sensitive curves. Her fingers stroked up, cupping her breasts and trailing her fingers higher.