Page 9 of Big Daddy Firemen

The thought made her cheeks glow even warmer. One would be hard enough to swallow. They were all so massive! There’s no way she could stretch her mouth to accept a second or third.

She’d have fun trying, though.

She’d have fun trying to stretch her pussy, too.

She shook her head, as if that would clear the naughty thoughts. It didn’t do a bit of good. How could it? She was surrounded by muscular, masculine flesh.

Mmm. Yummy.

“Yes. Are you okay?” Cane repeated.

“Yeah. Sorry. I just… I didn’t mean to walk in on y’all.”

They stood. She stayed on her knees for a moment, trying to swallow the lump in her throat as she realized now just how close she was to their hanging cocks.

Cane reached out his hands. She accepted them and allowed him to help ease her up.

“There’s no need to run,” he said. “You seeing us doesn’t bother us. So take your time leaving. Do you understand me?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, modesty isn’t as important as keeping you safe, honey,” Walker added. “So don’t run in this firehouse again. Am I clear?”

“Yeah,” Daisy said, scratching her head nervously as her eyes darted anywhere but those ginormous rods.

“Now, what did you need in the first place?” Cane probed.

Don’t look at their dicks. Don’t look at their dicks.

“Uh, I was just going to tell you that we’re out of spaghetti noodles and ask if you mind if we have dicks instead.”

“No. Honey, we,” Cane waved his hand between himself and the other two guys, “don’t want dicks.”

“Oh shit!” Daisy said. “I meantpenne. Like the pasta. Do you care if the spaghetti is made with penne?”

Based upon the men’s smiles and the looks in their eyes, they clearly found Daisy cute. Or at least amusing.

“Whatever you use will be just fine,” Cane assured her.

“As long as it’s not dicks,” Austin added.

Daisy slapped a palm to her forehead and groaned as she hurried from the room.

She was positively mortified.

CHAPTER SIX

Daisy had calmed down by the time dinner was served, but just barely.

She was still plenty flustered as she sat at the round table with the guys. They were clothed now but still looked abso-freaking-lutely hot in their gray sweatshorts and tight, dark blue t-shirts that strained over their muscular chests and shoulders.

“You’re a good cook,” Austin said.

“Thank you,” Daisy replied. “But there really isn’t much to pasta.”

“You seasoned this meat just right,” he countered. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

She thought of telling them that meat was her specialty, but it was a lame double entendre, at best. She wasn’t good at flirting or talking sexy. So, she simply gave a meek, “Thanks.”

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