Page 30 of Falling for the Firefighter
I can’t look away.
His fingers curl into my collar, tugging me close, our boots crunching against pine needles. Trees sway in the wind, but everything else stops.
Then he drops his pack, unbuckles his belt, eyes never leaving mine. Then he pulls his cock free.
Thick, hot, already leaking.
“On your knees.”
My breath leaves me in a rush. Heat floods every cell.
“You’re going to look so fucking pretty with your mouth full,” he rasps. “Just like you imagined. Just like you begged for.”
I drop. Right there, on damp pine needles, knees sinking into the soft ground.
I kneel.
Willing.
Shaking.
His eyes gleam. “That’s what I thought.”
He strokes himself once, slow, thick, and hard, standing over me like a god I just gave permission to ruin me.
“Open.”
My lips part. My mouth waters.
He doesn’t ease in—he pushes. Deep. Claiming. Groaning as his cock slides past my lips, forcing my jaw wide, his hand tangling in my hair to keep me still.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”
My lips seal around him. My moan is immediate, involuntary.
He grips my hair tightly, starts to thrust, his movements controlled and measured, then deeper. My throat works to takehim, spit trailing from the corners of my mouth, eyes watering as he pushes further.
“You wanted this.” He’s panting now, hips moving with brutal rhythm. “Thought about me using your mouth like this. Not gentle. Not asking. Just taking.”
Tears streak down my cheeks, and I love it. I fucking love it.
His breath shortens. His grip tightens. Every thrust is possession.
“Look at you,” he growls, watching me come undone. “On your knees for me. Taking every inch.”
I hum around him, eyes locked to his, the sound filthy and desperate. Saliva spills from the corners of my mouth. He moves harder, deeper, fucking my mouth like he owns it.
“You’ve been aching for this. Dreaming about me using you like this. Ever since you crashed into me and looked up like you wanted to bite.”
His hips rock forward. My throat tightens. He drags back, then slams in again.
“Look at you now. Letting me fuck your throat like it’s mine.”
Tears blur my vision. I don’t stop.
Can’t stop.
Every stroke is a reminder—this is him. Not some faceless stranger in a fantasy. Him. The man who saw me, who knew. Who isn’t afraid of holding back.
