Page 55 of Falling for the Firefighter
I convulse around him, every muscle locking as the orgasm rips through me like a detonation. Hard, bright, shattering around him in pulses so strong they ripple through my legs, my arms, my soul.
"That's my girl." His approval sends me over the edge, my body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crash through me.
He doesn’t stop. He drives into me with fierce, claiming strokes until his release hits like an avalanche, his groan rough and broken against my neck.
The weight of his body presses me deeper into the scattered maps. His hips jerk. He curses low and raw as he buries himself to the hilt.
Only then does he ease the pressure on my throat. Air floods in. My lungs expand. So does the ache in my chest—wanting more. Everything.
He holds me there, pressed against scattered maps and graphite smudges, his forehead resting against mine.
We collapse into stillness. Breathing. Shaking. My body sprawled beneath him, bare and bruised by pleasure, surrounded by crushed maps and proof of who I am. He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes—still dark, but now soft.
Reverent.
His arms wrap tight around me from behind, grounding me in the aftermath. His voice drops to a near whisper.
“You’re mine, Josephine. All of you. And I’m never letting go.” His voice holds a tenderness that steals my breath. “Now,” he says, brushing his fingers down the side of my throat. “Let’s go save some lives.”
Scout rises immediately at the shift in our voices, recognizing the transition from personal to professional. She approaches as I straighten my clothes, her nose briefly checking me over with the clinical efficiency of a partner ensuring I'm ready for work.
When I clip her harness into place, she settles into mission mode—alert, focused, ready.
"Good girl," I murmur, and she wags once. Back to business.
Mac keys his radio. "Base, this is Alpha Leader. We have an alternate extraction plan. Prepare for tactical insertion at coordinates..." He rattles off numbers that mark the tunnel entrance I've indicated.
"Roger, Alpha Leader. Deploying teams now."
Mac clips the radio to his belt; the decision is made. "You're guiding us through those tunnels."
"Mac—"
"No arguments." His voice carries absolute authority. "You know the route. My team knows rescue operations. We do this together."
I nod once, acceptance and terror warring in my chest. Twelve civilians, including children, trapped by fire, depending on tunnels I've never fully explored and knowledge I pray is accurate.
"There's something else." I force the words out. "The tunnel system connects to the old mine shafts. If we get lost down there..."
Scout's ears perk at the word "tunnels," and her body tenses slightly. She's been in underground spaces with me before, but she doesn't like them—too many scents trapped in confined spaces, too many echoes that confuse her hearing. Still, when I meet her eyes, she holds my gaze steadily. Whatever her reservations, she'll follow me anywhere.
"Scout's been through the upper sections with me," I add, one hand finding her head. "She knows the scent markers, the air currents. She'll help us navigate if the maps aren't enough."
"We won't get lost." His conviction sounds absolute.
"How can you be sure?"
"Because you won't let us." He steps closer, close enough that I can see gold flecks in his blue eyes. "You know these mountains better than anyone. You've never led anyone astray."
"Sarah—"
"Was an accident." His voice is gentle but remains firm. "This is a choice. Your choice. Trust your knowledge, Josephine."
The way he says my name—certain, reverent, like a prayer—steadies something inside me that's been shaking since we found those copied maps.
"Okay." I square my shoulders, pushing fear aside for focus. "We'll need rope, headlamps, and emergency breathing apparatus. The tunnels may have unstable air quality."
"Done." He's already moving toward the ladder. "Anything else?"
