Five Alarm Lust (5 page)

“Guh, Jack, please.” Gillian reached for him, her fingers scrambling across her naked body. What she asked for she had no idea, she could only pray he knew. “Please, I don’t…”

“Let go, Gilli. Come on, baby, let it happen.” Jack pulled his finger back, his voice guttural. “I want to see you come, I want to taste you as you fly. Damn, you’re hot, sexy, I want to see you get off.”

Gillian shook her head, her hair a wild tangled mess sticking to her sweat-slicked flesh. To let go would be bad. She wasn’t anything like… Her train of thought stuttered to a halt before derailing completely from the tracks with the crook of the finger he had buried inside her. A shockwave of pleasure ripped through her with enough force for her to feel it in her toes. Stumbling over a moan, she panted, her nails digging into the bedding, her body hanging by a thread.

She whimpered in protest when he withdrew and moaned in pleasure when he sank slowly back into her depths with two fingers. Stuttering out a broken plea, she shook with the force of desire as he crooked his fingers with each measured movement in and out. In, out, again and again until she was ready to scream. Lungs burning with the need for oxygen, she hovered on the brink, desire and fear warring. With each slow movement of his fingers, desire edged out the fear. Her hips bucked at the glide of his tongue across her clit, his fingers pressing into her flanks. He licked along the sensitive bud, each motion in tandem with the movement of his fingers.

Gillian gasped, her world shattering into a million shards of white hot light behind her eyelids. Every muscle tensed, trembling again and again with each wave of pleasure radiating from her center. Her mind spun wildly, her universe a focused dot on the pulsing between her legs. Each brush of his fingers prolonged the pleasure, his tongue lapping at her clit until she was once more on the edge. Her thighs trembled as he pressed them into the sheets, his tongue delving deep into her cunt. “Oh God, stop, please, I can’t…” Gillian sobbed, her body undulating beneath his ministrations.

“Gillian, you’re beautiful.” From the distance, Jack’s murmur against her ear barely penetrated the fog of pleasure in her mind. A trembling hand reached for his forearm, her nails curving into the tanned flesh as she felt him stir.

She whimpered at the cool draft on the moist flesh between her legs and barely had time to exhale before she could feel him move. The flat, thick head of his condom-encased cock pressed in inch by inch until she could feel the tickle of his groin hair against her. A garbled scream flew from her lips when he rolled his hips, his hard cock bumping against her sweet spot. She groaned at the brush of his pelvis against her clit.

His murmurs swam in a warm haze of pleasure as he pulled back before thrusting forward again and again. Every movement of his hips drove her closer and closer to the brink of paradise until she felt his body tense. The slow, sweet glide of his cock into her sped up, harsh grunts mixed with hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck down to her breasts. His tongue laved at a puckered nipple.

“Yes.” Gillian clung to his shoulders, her hips undulating. Following his nudging, she lifted one thigh and wrapped her leg around his hip as he thrust forward. Her scream of pleasure was swallowed by his hot kiss. His tongue dueled with hers as he slammed again and again into her. Fingers bit into her flesh, control seeming to have deserted him.

“Yes, so hot, wet.” His guttural encouragement only added fuel to the fire raging in her blood. “Damn, I’m gonna come.”

“Please.” Gillian sobbed, her body hovering on the precipice for a split second as he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in her pussy, his body wracked by shudders. The hot splash of his ejaculate pulsed against her cervix as he hovered over her body. Gillian groaned in pleasure and fell.
This is what it’s supposed to feel like.
The errant thought filtered through the haze a moment before she came. Her body splintering into shards of pleasure so intense it took her breath away.

With a muted groan, he sank onto her, his breath hot and moist in the crook of her neck. His fingers caught hers, interlocking them as he pressed them deeper into the bed. A moment later he wrapped an arm across her waist and rolled over, leaving his weight on his side as he pulled her closer to him.

Icy fear crept through her as he reached for the lights. She jumped when they went out, her body tensing.
What now? What’s the protocol in this situation?

“Quit thinking so loud.” Jack pressed a kiss to her temple. “Sleep, Gilli, just sleep for now.”

Gillian closed her eyes but doubted she’d get any sleep. Exhaustion, however, hovered, eager to claim her. Long after Jack had slipped into sleep, his soft snore filling her head, she struggled against the warmth of sleep.

Chapter 4

Gillian jerked awake and slowed her ragged breathing. She rolled over, her fingers scrambling for her glasses. The hot, solid weight of a body next to her sent a bolt of terror through her.

“Oh God, what did I do?” Her pitiful whisper did little to ease her mind. Inching away from the man in her bed, she sighed at the feel of a corner of a dressing table. Her fingers scrambled over it to find her glasses. Relief flooded her at the familiar weight of them. Slipping them on, she glanced over her shoulder. A white sheet pooled low across Jack’s waist, the dark curls peeking from the folds. One broad, tanned hand lay on his stomach, the other stretched out across the bed. Stubble darkened his jaw, his tousled hair falling over his forehead in sleep.

She prayed he wouldn’t wake and tugged on the blankets, pulling one loose enough to wrap around her body. Gillian stood, her heart racing, palms sweaty as she glanced around the room. Desperation ripped through her blood.

Please, please don’t let him wake up. Just let me get out of here and we’ll forget this ever happened. It can’t happen again
.

She tossed clothes aside in the vain search for her panties. Pale lavender lace peeked out from under his hip. Her fingers curled into her palm before she backed from the room.

Her breath coming in loud, harsh pants, she slipped on the oversized bathrobe lying across the back of the couch, grabbed the stained and wrinkled mess she’d worn at the wedding, and darted about looking for her heels. The soft snore from the bed drew her attention. She gave up on the pumps and all but raced from the room. She swore and turned to dart back in before the door closed to grab her purse. Pulling her mother’s room key from the tiny clutch bag, she hurried down the hall, her head bent, face burning with embarrassment.

The door swung open without a sound and Gillian slipped into the honeymoon suite. There were no noises coming from the main bedroom. With a breath of relief, Gillian tossed the formal gown aside and grabbed her carryon. She discarded the robe and pulled on a pair of tan slacks, a white sweater, and grabbed her sensible flats.

Dressed, she froze at a creak from the bedroom.
Please don’t wake up.
She prayed and tucked her clutch into the bag before grabbing her jacket and all but flying from the hotel room.

Relief flooded her as she slipped unnoticed past the front desk. She could see the two employees in the back cubby giggling together over something. Inhaling a calming breath in the cool morning air, she hurried toward the waiting bank of taxis.

“Where to?”

“The airport.” Gillian slammed the door, her gaze on the hotel. Guilt ate at her stomach as she pictured Jack tangled in the sheets of his hotel room. He was a good man, something she had very little experience with. She should have woken him up to say good-bye.

As the five-story hotel faded from view, she sank down into her seat and sniffled. She’d felt more than any good girl was supposed to in the arms of a man, but the guilt, the shame, were curiously absent.

Cold, impersonal, the crowded airport welcomed her. Shrugging deeper into her sweater, Gillian hurried through the ticket booth before finding a spot on a hard plastic chair near the windows.

Her fingers plucked at the strap of her bag, her mind slipping back to events she loathed considering.

“You’re as cold as ice, Gillian.” Mike’s sneer filled the quiet of their sparse bedroom. “Why would I want to stick my dick in something that’s gonna give me frostbite? Hell, a woolen sock’s a better fuck than you.”

“I’m sorry, Mike.” She sniffled and hunkered in the corner, her face burning where he’d hit her. Curling tighter into herself, she watched him pace the bedroom. His fists opening and clenching, his dark eyes narrowed as they studied her with disdain and fury.

“Don’t know why you can’t be more like your momma. Now there’s a woman who knows her way around the bedroom.”

“Yes, Mike.”

“Can’t keep the house clean, don’t cook. Hell, you’re as flat-chested as a boy, ain’t enough talent for a good blowjob, and you’re cold. Stupid fucking bitch!”

Gillian flinched but didn’t cry out at the booted kick to her side. To cry out would only give him more satisfaction. Her nails bit into her palms, the warm ooze of blood more powerful than the ranting of her boyfriend of five years.

“Yes, Mike.” Gillian jumped at the slam of the front door, her breath exploding on a sob. Curling against the wall, she pressed her palm to her groin, the burning ache intense, broken only by the slow drip of fluid down her skin. She sobbed and pounded her head on the wall, her body one searing ball of agony.

“Miss, they’re boarding your flight.” The soft voice of a woman reached through the memories. Gillian shook them off and offered a weak smile before collecting her things and hurrying to the loading gate.

* * * *

Jack rubbed his eyes for the third time in five minutes. He stifled a yawn, glanced at the clock, and cursed. Two hours and he wasn’t one second closer to finishing the latest fire report due by the end of his shift. His mind kept darting back to Gillian—and waking alone. It hadn’t taken him five minutes to understand why she’d run. In a way he’d been expecting it. Still, it hadn’t dulled the pain of knowing she’d let her fear control her.

Heaving a breath, he closed the file he’d been working on and opened the laptop. A few seconds later it booted to life and the screen popped up. His fingers beat a fast rhythm on his desktop as he stared at the screen. The roar of his heart in his ears drowned out the voice of reason as he opened a web browser and began the search for Gillian. He wanted answers and the only way to get them was to go for it.

Half an hour later, shock mixed with elation as he stared at the computer screen. He grinned, his fingers reaching for a pen and paper. Persistence and a determination he hadn’t felt in years lightened his mood considerably.

“She really does love dinosaurs.” He whistled as he crammed the paper into his pocket just as the door opened.

“Hey, we’re just headin’ out to grab a beer. You wanna come with us?” Luke Marshall, one of his long-time friends, poked his head in the office door. Tall, with sandy hair, Luke looked like something out of
GQ
and had more than one woman fall over themselves to get in his bed. Too bad the young conservation officer wasn’t interested in women.

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good. How’re you doing these days? I heard about the break with Tony.”

“Yeah, it was rough.” Luke shot him a cocky grin. “But I got over it.”

“Sure you did. That why you’re standing in my office at seven on a Saturday night?”

“No, I’m standing here ’cause I heard you got laid at Lenny’s wedding and want details. She the sexpot you usually go for or have you opened your eyes and decided that the sausage is mightier than the taco?”

“Don’t be an asshole.” Jack shut his computer down, grabbed his coat, and strode across the room. Pausing in the doorway, he eyed Luke with a grin. “Gillian’s not like that.”

“What’s she like?”

Jack patted his pocket, a light frown tugging his brows down. Lumping Gillian in with the other women he’d dated felt wrong, cheap somehow. “Complicated. You said something about beer?”

“Man, gotta love you.” Luke wrapped an arm around his shoulders, his fingers plucking at his collar. “You know, if you weren’t so bloody blind, you’d see there are some mighty fine…”

“Luke.” Jack inhaled and grabbed his fingers. “I love you like a brother, but I am not interested. We’ve been over this already.”

“Women…” Luke laughed. “I was going to say women. See, then I get the hunks all to myself.”

“You’re already half plastered, aren’t you?”

“Just happy. Come on, I’ll buy you a beer and you can tell me about this great lay you had at the wedding.”

“You can buy the beer all right.” Jack paused, a niggling sense of anger flaring in his gut. He didn’t want to talk about Gillian like that; she wasn’t some conquest. Sure, she’d been the best sex he’d had in years, but it didn’t mean she was fodder for the gossip mills. “But keep your sex talk to yourself. I ain’t gonna…”

“Ooh, the poster child for the ‘find a warm body’ campaign found someone a bit more intense than those airheads?”

Jack pushed open the door and shoved Luke out into the fading sunlight. He’d found someone and lost them all on the same night—but it wasn’t forever. He just had to catch her again and get to know the woman behind the shadows.

“You’re driving a company truck?” Jack stared in shock at the green government truck parked before the firehouse. Dust covered the lower half of the vehicle, and a thick layer of mud caked the wheel wells.

“Nope, we’re taking a cab. Even I’m not dumb enough to play footsies with Rick—that man takes his job waaaay too serious.”

“He’s a Mountie, he’s supposed to.” Jack laughed as a cab rolled to a stop. Slipping into the back of the cab, he pulled out the note and studied it. Gillian Hilliard wasn’t some dumb airhead. The woman was as close to a genius as he could find, and he wanted more than a single night with her. He tugged at the fabric of his pants, his cock stirring at the memories of their night together. The abandon, the flush on her skin when she shattered around him. The feel of her tight depths milking his cock. One night wasn’t enough.