High Octane Heroes Page 3

  Trish shot him a relieved smile. Mrs. Lipniki’s face screwed up in a scowl.

  Luke helped Trish into the car, disciplining himself to keep his hands off her, but his palm itched to test the soft flesh of her hips, to skate over the curve of her ass. It took everything in him to resist.

  He slid into the driver’s seat next to her and fit the key in the ignition. “All set?”

  She tipped her head and observed him solemnly through thick lashes. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  Luke stilled. “Do what?”

  “Take me out to dinner. You were railroaded into that invitation.”

  “Was I?”

  She nodded. Her throat worked. “Of course you were. But I understand. Mrs. Lipniki can be rather adamant.”

  “No one bullies me into doing something I don’t want to do.” He softened his words with a wink.

  She blew out a weedy, trembling laugh and gestured to her body. “I’m hardly a runway model. I know men prefer slender women.”

  Luke gaped at her. “Not all men, sweetheart. Some men don’t like making love to a stick figure.” Her eyes widened in surprise and then warmed, so he shifted to face her with his arm over the back of the seat “I have a confession to make.”

  “Yes?”

  “I love curves on a woman. When I saw you, all I could think about was how much I wanted to…well, hold you.” The intensity between them notched upward. He cleared his throat. “You’re exactly the kind of woman I prefer.”

  “Really?” Shock limned her exquisite features. Then an impish hunger replaced it. “Well, in that case, I have a confession as well. No, wait. Two.”

  Holy hell. With that look and the way she dabbed at her lips with her tongue, he couldn’t wait to hear them. “W-what?”

  “Remember how Mrs. Lipniki said I was a good girl?”

  “Yes.” Anticipation slithered through him.

  She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. Heat shot between them. “I’m not.”

  Holy hell. A bolt of lightning seared him. His cock shot up like a meerkat on the prairie. “You’re not?”

  She shook her head. He liked the way her hair danced over her shoulders. He wondered what it would feel like fisted in his fingers as he guided her head, her mouth warm and tight around his—

  “No. In fact,” she leaned closer, “the things I like to do might blow your mind.”

  Luke shifted as his trousers became tighter. His cock throbbed manically. How on earth was he going to make it through dinner? “And your other confession?”

  She nibbled her lower lip. He fixated on the sight. “I have a…thing for firemen.”

  “A t-thing?”

  “Yes.”

  Her hand eased over onto his thigh, high enough that her pinkie brushed his aching balls—the hint of a caress. He almost came.

  “W-what kind of…thing?”

  Trish opened her mouth but never got to answer, because just then, Mrs. Lipniki, who was still standing on her stoop watching them with an eagle eye, bellowed, “I thought you had a reservation!”

  Without another word, Luke started the car and drove away.

  Though he was in a lust-sodden daze engendered by a dizzying warmth on his thigh, he somehow managed to find his way home.

  Dinner could fucking wait.

  Trish Olsen shivered in anticipation as Luke pulled into the driveway of a modest home in a nice neighborhood. She could hardly believe she was here. With him. That he wanted her. He cut the engine and took her hand from his thigh and held it. The breath caught in her throat when he turned to her.

  God, he was gorgeous. The most handsome man she’d ever seen, with a long aquiline nose, high cheekbones and dreamy brown eyes. His sandy blond hair caught the dying glints of the sun. Tiny golden prickles of beard dusted the hard sharp line of his chin. His neck was thick and roped with muscle. And his body… She ached to discover the splendor beneath that prissy dress shirt.

  But his expression was somber. “Are you sure you want to move this quickly?”

  Quickly? She’d been watching him for months, her heart pounding in her throat each time his paramedic unit pulled up in the drive. She’d even begun hanging out with Mrs. Lipniki more and more often in the hopes she might get to meet him. Even had the occasional fantasy about starting a grease fire in her own kitchen.

  The bald truth was, she didn’t have a thing for firefighters. She had a thing for Luke Patterson.

  He seemed to be as taken with her as she was with him. But still, she had to ask. “I’m sure about this. Are you?”

  His response was to tug her close, to pull her into his arms and kiss her.

  Rockets exploded in her head when his soft, warm lips brushed hers. His mouth was perfect, a dream, moving over hers in a velvet buss. He tasted wonderful, like liquid lust. His hand skated to her hips, her waist, crept up to just barely cup her breast.

  He groaned, deep in his throat. “God, yes.” And he deepened the kiss. He nudged his tongue past her lips, into her mouth. When she sucked him, just a tad, he shuddered and reared back. The look in his eyes seared her. “Maybe we should go inside.”

  Trish had to laugh as she imagined how they must appear to any random observers, rushing from the car, skittering up the sidewalk, dancing impatient jigs as he fumbled for the keys. But once they stepped inside, once the door was closed behind them and they were together, alone, all thoughts—the illusion that anyone else in the world existed—evaporated.

  Luke didn’t wait. He didn’t invite her into the living room and offer her a drink or make idle uncomfortable chitchat. He backed her up against the door and pinned her there with his long, hard body. She felt him, every muscle, every breath, every heartbeat. His hard cock, pressing into her belly, throbbed.

  If she’d ever had any doubts about her allure—like, ever—Luke wiped them away with that embrace. She knew he wanted her and desperately so.

  She wanted him in the same way. It was a burning, aching hunger in her womb.

  The kiss devolved into something feral. They ate at each other, sucking and licking and grinding their bodies together at every point they touched. She explored his magnificent form, testing the firm, rippling muscles, scraping at his skin, yanking madly at the clothing separating her from heaven.

  He pulled back and ripped off his shirt—buttons flew. Then he yanked down the neckline of her dress. He was a little gentler with her favorite dress than he’d been with his shirt, but not much. To keep it from ending up in shreds, she shrugged it off.

  And he froze.

  He froze and stared at her. His eyes, wide and brown, studied every contour, every curve. She wore nothing but lace—a skimpy bra restraining her generous globes, and a flimsy pair of undies. He lifted a hand to her chest; it shook.

  When he cupped her in his palm, he let out an agonized hiss. “Jesus.”

  He held her like she was a delicate piece of porcelain. His thumb nudged a nipple, and she moaned. Her body was on fire for his touch. Her pulse thrummed—in her throat, in her nipples, definitely in her clit. God, how she wanted him to touch her there.

  A wet warmth seeped between her legs at the thought.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He stroked her body reverently, tracing the curve of her waist and arching out over her hips. He measured the curve of her ass. “So soft.”

  He tested the weight of her breasts with both palms, then pressed them together and took in the view with avid fascination. He buried his face in the cleft he’d created and inhaled deeply. Shuddered. A low groan rumbled from him. All the while, he tormented her swollen nipples with his nails. Delicious sensation danced through her with each swipe.

  Trish clutched at his head, nested her fingers in his hair, and scored his scalp. To have a man like Luke worship her like this was beyond delicious. It was divine.

  She ached to worship him as well.

  She was about to turn the tables—to push him back against the door and explore and lick and
delight his body—when he knelt down. Her knees nearly gave out at the sight of this man crouched before her, his beautiful face at crotch level. He kissed her belly, his breath hot on her skin.

  She shifted her legs apart and his chuckle rumbled through her. He looked up and captured her gaze, held it as his thumbs hooked into the tiny strap of her panties and drew them down.

  When he broke the connection, it was to dip his head and nuzzle her slick, swollen lips. Trish cried out and threw back her head as he found her clit. It wasn’t difficult for him—her nub was swollen and thick. It was so engorged it nudged out from her protective flesh like an impudent tongue.

  Oh. God. And speaking of impudent tongues! When Luke licked her, when he swirled around her bud and lashed it, Trish nearly swooned. “Oh, please,” she groaned, holding him in place with an insistent grip. “Yes. Yes.”

  He nestled deeper, lapping and nipping and—oh god!—sucking.

  She came then, lunging and howling and thrashing against his mouth. He did not stop. Was not deterred. Even as she lost all control, even as she was swept away by a wash of unbearable bliss, he slipped two fingers up into her clasping cunt and played her. Like a harp.

  He kept her orgasm going for longer than she could have ever imagined, stroking her and working her and rubbing that spot deep inside that clenched and quivered and thrilled to his touch.

  When she could take no more, when she was absolutely, positively, utterly replete, she collapsed onto the floor beside him. And found herself nested in a pile of his mail.

  They’d never even made it a foot from the door.

  Luke burned as he held Trish, reveling in her gasps and moans as she desperately tried to recover her equilibrium.

  It thrilled him that he’d made her come so completely, so wildly. And she was a wild thing. A vixen in heat. He would give her a moment to recover, but not much longer. Because he was so close to the edge, it hurt.

  He bided his time, stroking her and kissing away her tears and fantasizing about what they could do next. Almost all his ideas involved his cock.

  Because it was near to bursting. Aching to be in her. Anywhere.

  He thought about bending her over the back of the couch, what it would feel like to hold on to her lush ass as he pushed himself deep into her tight cunt. He thought about taking her into the kitchen and drizzling chocolate syrup all over his cock for her to lick off. He thought about taking her in the shower, rubbing thick lather all over her magnificent breasts until they were slippery and slick—and then holding them tight and easing himself between them. He even thought about lubing up her pucker and anchoring his grip in her fleshy globes as he inched in.

  And as he thought, his impatience—and his cock—began to twitch. His fondling turned from soothing to arousing. Casual caresses became deliberate strokes. It wasn’t long before his Rubenesque beauty was ready again.

  When she pulled him down for a steamy sultry kiss, he knew it was time. He helped her to her feet and led her into the bedroom. He fully intended to tease and torment her, to make her come once more before fucking that hot little cunt of hers, but Trish had other ideas.

  When they reached the bed, she unfastened his trousers and sat him down. Then she knelt between his legs. And he couldn’t stop her. He couldn’t move. Because she took hold of his cock and stroked him.

  Breathtaking waves of pleasure rocked him. He closed his eyes and reveled in it. When she traced the thick veins, drew a fingertip over the bulging head, he saw stars.

  “God, Trish,” he growled. And then the growl became a whimper, because she took him between her lips and sucked.

  Warm. Wet. Velvet heaven. He clenched his fists in the covers to keep from bucking into her mouth, to keep from fucking her like a sex-crazed animal. And holy hell, she tormented him. She licked and nibbled at his aching staff, sucking him in and swirling her tongue. Then she took him deep—so deep he could feel the muscles of her throat massaging his head.

  Her finger, her naughty little finger, toyed with the star of his ass. Sensation speared him.

  He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t hold out. He couldn’t—

  She stopped.

  Agony roiled through him. His eyes flew open and found hers. She smiled. It was a sweet, innocent smile—so incongruous with what those lips had just been doing. But Trish was a hellcat. He’d known it all along.

  And now she proved it.

  Her finger in his ass wiggled, just a little. He shivered.

  She licked her lips. “I want your cock inside me, Luke Patterson. And I want it now.”

  Holy fuck.

  With no preamble, he grabbed her and tossed her onto the bed. She landed on her belly, and he didn’t hesitate, couldn’t even wait long enough to turn her over. He came up behind her, pulled her up on her knees, fisted his cock and shoved it in.

  She wailed at the invasion, a low warbling groan, then shimmied her hips from side to side to ease his passage. With her movements, the tight muscles of her cunt undulated, opening and closing on the head of his rod like a hot mouth. He slid deeper and a harsh shudder took him.

  She was so wet, so scalding hot, so fucking tight.

  Her ass was soft against his groin as he pushed in to the hilt. He loved it. Loved the feel of her pressing back into him.

  “God, yes,” he groaned. He hunched over her and began to move. Each plunge was met with a delicious resistance, a tormenting dance as she clenched around him.

  “More,” she panted. “More.”

  He complied. He held her still, as he had in so many fantasies since yesterday, and plowed in and out of her. Each stroke sent delight skittering along his spine. He sped up. Fucked her harder. She cried out and thrust back into him with a growing fervor.

  Heat rose, blew through him. Delirium danced in his head. Faster and harder and deeper. Like a frenzied beast, he sluiced in and out of her slick cunt. She quivered, quaked, mewled, and a hot rain showered his cock. As she came, her walls loosened, easing the way for a more frenetic ride.

  The insistent slap of skin to skin echoed through the room, twined with the sounds of her gasps, his grunts. She tightened again—he could feel another orgasm building deep inside her. The sensation drove him wild, licked at his sanity, eroded his control.

  That tingle, that deep, slow burn began at the base of his cock and rose. He tightened his grip on her ass and pounded harder. She cried out, whipped her hips from side to side. Begged, pleaded, cursed.

  And then, it hit.

  Together, they crested the wave, tumbled into the abyss, exploded.

  Cum snarled from him in jet after jet of scorching pleasure. She moaned and clasped at him in great grasping gulps as he flooded her, saturated her, filled her up.

  They collapsed in a tangle of limbs, both shaking, panting, trembling as bolt after bolt of ecstasy lashed them.

  They lay there in each other’s arms for a long while, spooned together. Luke reveled in the way she felt, so soft and warm against his body. He loved the weight of her breasts in his hands, the curve of her bottom as she nestled his cock, her scent. He could hold her forever, he thought.

  This delightful reverie was interrupted by a loud rumble.

  Trish laughed and put her palm to her belly. “Sorry.”

  He rolled her over and kissed her. “We kind of skipped dinner.”

  “We kind of skipped a lot of stuff.”

  He stilled. Hell. They had. A condom for one. “But…did you…like it?”

  She riffled the hair on his chest. “Of course I liked it. I loved it. I meant we skipped the small talk and the awkwardness. All the stuff I hate.”

  Yeah. They had. It’d been awesome. Still… “A little small talk would be nice. I’d like to get to know you better.” A lot better.

  She considered this. “Hmm. Maybe over dinner?”

  He tucked her closer, bit back a smile. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

  “I guess I am.” He loved the way her eyes crinkled at t
he corners when she grinned.

  “Do you like hot stuff?”

  She gestured between them. “Apparently.”

  He chuckled. It was pretty hot between them. “I know a place that has a kick-ass chili.”

  “Hot chili?”

  “Five-alarm chili.”

  “As hot as you are?”

  “Hotter.”

  She blew out a breath. Her bangs floated up. “Hotter than Luke Patterson? I’d have to see it to believe it.”

  “Taste it. You have to taste it to believe it.”

  She grinned. “Challenge accepted.”

  So for their first date—after a wild, wild ride—he took her to Station 12 and fed her Izzy’s Five-Alarm Chili, glaring at any firefighter who so much as glanced her way. She was his, after all.

  And then he took her back to his house and made love to her all night, trying all the things he’d been fantasizing about.

  And the reality was better.

  In the morning he took her home and lingered on her stoop, kissing her good-bye. He was loath to leave, but he had to go to work. He could rest easy in the knowledge that they’d made plans for that night. And the next night. And the night after.

  Maybe forever.

  Once she was inside and had closed the door, he fished his keys out of his pocket. A movement to his left caught his eye. Mrs. Lipniki. Peering out at him through the screen. He sketched her a cocky salute.

  “Out all night, eh?” She grinned.

  Luke blinked at the realization she had not yet put in her teeth.

  “I guess that date went well.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It did.” He puffed out his chest. He couldn’t help it. “Looks like you’ll have to turn all your matchmaking efforts on Izzy now.”

  “Young man,” she said with a wink. “You can count on it.”

  Ah. Poor Izzy.

  Somehow Luke just couldn’t dredge up an ounce of sympathy.

  RENEGADE

  Brindle Chase