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Hot In Here. Susan LyonsЧитать онлайн книгу.

Hot In Here - Susan  Lyons


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her mound. Those few silky strands of hair, then slick, swollen lips. Man, he needed to get inside there, but the pants were too tight to let even his finger enter her.

      She wasn’t helping either, moaning and pushing against his hand so he couldn’t get it back out of her pants.

      “Jenny, let me pull your pants down.”

      She did it herself, forcing the sides past her hips, and then the pants began to drop and he didn’t care what happened to them because now he could dip a finger inside her. She was so tight, her muscles sucking him in, he couldn’t believe his cock had ever fit in there.

      But it had, and sure wanted to again. Very, very soon.

      Those deft hands of hers were now working his own zipper, yanking down his pants, freeing him, but only for a second before her hands captured him, one above the other, gripping his length. His cock jumped, surged. He fought the urge to thrust. If he did, he’d come all over those sexy hands.

      “I need you now,” she said urgently.

      “God, yeah! Me, too.”

      She’d somehow freed one leg from her shoe and pant leg and was hooking it around his waist, pulling him closer.

      Hurriedly he got his hand out of the way, gripped her around the waist, positioned her just right.

      He couldn’t wait another minute, and from the way she was moaning she was right there with him.

      This was going to last all of about one second. It’d be spontaneous combustion.

      She gripped his cock, he spread her lips, he drew back his hips and—

      The fire alarm went off.

      “Fuck!” He pulled back and his cock slid out of her hand. No, this couldn’t be happening.

      When she just stared at him, looking dazed, he shook her shoulders. “Get dressed! The guys’ll be here in a second.”

      The PA system cut in, with an announcement from Dispatch about the nature of the call.

      “Oh, crap!” Jenny bent to yank her pants up.

      “You said it.” He tried to force his zipper over an aching, full-to-bursting hard-on.

      “You gotta go.” He grabbed Jenny down from the engine steps just as John-Boy flung open the door to the engine bay.

      “Out of the way, ma’am.” The lieutenant, all work and no play now, rushed past.

      Hurriedly, Jenny stepped aside.

      Scott sprinted over to where he kept his turnout pants and boots, folded carefully together. All he had to do was put one foot here, one there, and pull the suspenders up.

      Scrambling to keep up with the other guys, he lost track of Jenny until the engine, siren blaring and lights flashing, pulled out of the driveway. There she stood, beside her Jeep, staring after them.

      Damn. They had unfinished business, and he hadn’t even gotten her phone number.

      Her firefighter might have disappeared but Jenny’s horniness sure as hell hadn’t. She squeezed her thighs together, clenched the muscles between them. Shit, this was so unfair.

      She really, really wanted that orgasm.

      She deserved it, after all the buildup, playing reporter with the firefighters while all the time all she could think about was Scott’s hard body under the clinging fabric.

      Couldn’t the damned fire alarm have waited another two minutes? That’s all it would have taken, for both of them.

      No finesse to their sex, but, man, was it powerful.

      Not fair, not fair, not fair.

      Jenny took a deep breath. Like her friend Ann kept saying, no woman should be dependent on a man.

      She glanced around. The fire hall looked deserted. Across the street a couple of guys strolled along with a Weimeraner. It was a peaceful street with grassy boulevards, leafy trees, landscaped yards. Residential, with apartments of various sizes and shapes. Many with windows overlooking the fire hall.

      Decisively she put up the top on the Jeep, rolled up the windows and then settled into the passenger seat. She tilted it back, undid her white jeans—not even dirty, which said a lot for how clean those guys kept their truck—and slid her hand inside. Just as Scott had done.

      His hand was so big compared to hers. Everything about him was big.

      Oh, yeah….

      When she’d pulled down his underwear and his dick had jumped free, she’d needed two hands to hold it.

      She remembered how it looked, with the swollen veins, the purply red head already leaking cum. What a turn-on. Power. Sheer, raw male potency.

      And speaking of oozing, she was drenched herself.

      She stroked herself back and forth, between her swollen lips, imagining his fingers, and then, even better, his tongue. The man knew how to kiss, so she’d bet his lips and tongue could give pretty good action down south, too.

      His tongue on her clit.

      She stroked it, squeezed. Imagined her lips wrapping around his dick while his lips suckled her clit, and, oh, yeah, just there, just like that—

      The orgasm surged through her and she rode it out.

      Then, panting, body still throbbing, she lay back in the seat. Satisfied.

      Maybe not as much as if he’d actually been inside her, but not bad, all considering. Nice to know a girl could live without a man, or a vibrator.

      She zipped her pants and glanced around. Had she really done this, in the middle of a Sunday afternoon, in the driveway of Scott’s fire hall?

      Would she ever have the nerve to tell him? Or the girls? She laughed, thinking of the reaction.

      But…wait a minute. She sat up straight, frowning. Was she even going to see Scott again? He’d never got a chance to ask for her number.

      Did she want to see him again?

      She thought of that thrusting dick, and muscles deep in her vagina contracted involuntarily. Oh, yeah!

      From the seat beside her, where she’d slung her backpack, she heard a click. What on earth?

      Oh, shit, the tape recorder. It had been on all this time.

      She buried her face in her hands and started to laugh.

      After the usual Sunday night family pig-out, featuring everything from chicken feet to red-bean dessert soup, Jenny and Cat cleared the table.

      In the kitchen, they fell into their usual routine. Jenny put away leftovers and scraped plates while Cat loaded the dishwasher. Keeping their voices low so the older generations couldn’t overhear, they talked about Cat’s latest crush.

      At fourteen, her sister was already three inches taller than Jenny, her breasts were bigger and she was seriously interested in boys. The good news was, the current boy was Chinese. The bad news, no way would their parents let Cat date anyone for at least another couple of years.

      “So, we’re all going to a movie next Friday.” Cat tossed her long hair—a move she’d learned from Jenny. “I’ll tell the parents I’m going out with a few girls, and just won’t mention the boys.”

      “You’ll be in trouble if they catch you.”

      “They won’t. We girls will all cover for each other.”

      Jenny frowned. Yeah, her sister was learning a lot from her. Including how to deceive their family. If only their folks would loosen up and be reasonable. Sure, maybe Cat was young for one-on-one dating, but what was wrong with a group of girls and boys hanging out? “Just make sure you stay in the group,” she told her sister.

      Cat


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