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Dean made me a cup of sweet tea but resumed deinking from his bottle of vodka. In days gone by, I’d be climbing the walls if I couldn’t do a shot with him, but tonight I felt at peace. Was this what happened when I was thoroughly fucked in the best way possible?
He was fully dressed, while I was naked under the blanket, and this didn’t change until he carried me into his bedroom and settled me on the bed. “You’re staying tonight,” he said. It was a gruff command. “Will King be okay?”
“If I go back first thing, he’ll be fine.”
In reply, he tugged the T-shirt over his head, and I saw flashes of raw, grazed skin, and bruising. The sight of it turned my stomach. Off came his jeans, and there were more wounds. His chest and side were a mottled purply-blue, and his left leg was bandaged below the knee. It terrified me how close he’d come to being seriously injured.
He dropped his boxers, and then lay on the bed at my side and watched me through half-closed eyes. Tension simmered in his muscles.
“Dean, what happened out there today?” I stroked his neck, my touch featherlight. Soothing. “I heard it was bad, and I can see you’re hurt.”
“This is nothing. Just a few dings,” he said. I waited, and he sighed. “It was a multi-vehicle collision. We were cutting a woman out of her car, and we had to work quickly. She was losing a lot of blood. Cory and Aaron operated the equipment, and I assisted. And this fuckwit came flying off the roundabout in an old Toyota Ute. Didn’t see the fire truck and saw the accident too late. The road was wet. Like on Saturday, y’know. There was no traction. He was fishtailing across the road and heading straight for Cory. Aaron looked up in time. We both dived for Cory, to push him clear. I was too late. If I’d looked up half a second earlier, I could have done it.”
Dean covered his eyes with one hand. “So there we were—Cory and Aaron both down, the woman we were attending bleeding out, and the Ute driver thrown through his windscreen. No seatbelt. Just me and Paul left standing.”
I wrapped my arms around him and held tight. The thought of going through that made me tremble like a leaf in a stiff breeze. “How do you cope with that? What do you do first?” I asked.
“We were expecting backup any minute, but we had to deal with it. We did triage on our guys first, then Paul went to check on the Ute driver, while I tried to help the woman trapped in her car. It was too late for her. By the time I got her door off, she was gone.”
“I’m so sorry. I can’t begin to imagine what you went through. Do you know how Cory and Aaron are?”
“I know it was bad. I switched off my phone.” He closed his eyes. “I can’t deal with it right now.”
My brave, strong firefighter was afraid of hearing the news. My heart broke for him.
“I should have been watching the road. Seen the Ute coming.”
“You can’t blame yourself. You tried to help.”
Dean disentangled from my embrace and rolled onto his stomach, face pressed into his arm. “Blue watch is fucked now, with two men down. Just like my old watch in Auckland.”
The pain in his voice tore through me. I could write the book on feeling guilty. What could I do to help him? I scrambled to my knees and straddled his thighs, before placing my palms on his back. “I’m going to give you a very gentle massage. I don’t have any oil, but I can do a lot with my hands.” He grunted, and I took that as assent. I didn’t know anything about massage, but the healing power of touch was universal, and I let instinct guide me.
His back was broad and firm, and I petted and stroked the muscles, before working my way up his spine, pressing into the flesh on either side of the bones. Avoiding the bruises. He hummed approval, and I continued.
“S’good,” he muttered, some of the tension melting away from his stiff posture.
There was a question I longed to ask. Why were you so adamant you didn’t want to see me again? I wouldn’t ambush him now. Not when he was relaxing into my touch—when I was doing something for him for a change. I pushed my knuckles into the backs of his shoulders, and he groaned.
“If I’d known you could do this—” He went silent.
“Why? What would you have done differently?” I kept my voice light, as though I was making his comment into a joke.
“I wouldn’t have been such an asshole.”
I leaned over and pressed a kiss at the top of his spine. “You’re not the worst I’ve met.”
He went very still. “You’re making it hard to keep my distance.”
I kissed the next vertebrae down. “Why do you need to?”
“Because.”
I pushed my knuckles into his skin again and followed it up with an open-mouthed kiss.
He moaned.
“Because what?” I asked. “Are we twelve years old, now?”
“Because I could fall in love with you, little sandy girl.”
I froze. A huge smile broke out over my face. “You could?”
Dean made a growling noise. “Damn it, Steph. You gonna make me say it?”
“Yup.”
He rolled over, and when I dropped to his side, cupped my face with both hands. “I love you,” he said. The three most magical words in the entire universe. “I fuckin’ love you, little sandy girl.”
I wanted to do a fist pump in the air. High-five my imaginary inner critic. Shout it from the mountain tops. Dean loves me. I dialled it back to a beaming smile and a stolen kiss. “I love you too. I’m in love with you. You are my everything.”
He kissed me hard, and then pulled back a fraction. “I need to fuck you again. Like, right now.”
“I am so on board with that. Tell me you have another condom.”
“Yup. In my wallet.”
“Where is it?”
“Kitchen counter. Go get it, baby.”
I scrambled out of bed and headed into the kitchen. The windows were all covered with closed blinds, so I had no worries about walking around naked. His wallet was where he said it’d be, and seconds later, I headed back to the bedroom.
Dean sat up in bed, tumbler at his lips, taking another slug of vodka. Unease nudged at me. Was he intent on getting hammered? Surely he’d feel better now he admitted he loved me?
Well, duh. He was having a supremely shitty day and battling demons inside his head. I was an arrogant idiot, if I thought I could take any of that away. All I could do was be here for him. I handed over his wallet, and then joined him on the bed. He pulled out two foil packets, before dropping the wallet on the bedside cabinet.
“Two,” he said. “Unless you’ve got some tucked away, this is all we’ve got.” He emptied his glass and placed it next to his wallet.
“I don’t have any.”
“No worries.” He ran his hand up his erection. “Come over here. I want to see your pretty mouth taking care of my cock.”
I was more than happy to do that. Sucking off Dean? My second favourite thing, after making love with him. That was what we’d been doing, not just fucking. I loved him, and he loved me, and it made everything bright and wonderful in my world.
I gave him an amazing blow job, but at his demand, stopped before he came.
“Fuck, but you’re good at that.” He was fitting the condom. “I want you riding me this time. I want to see your gorgeous tits bouncing and to watch you playing with yourself.”
His dirty mouth made me hot in a way I’d never have guessed. I was desperate to feel him inside me, and I knelt over him, helping to guide his dick inside me.
Any ideas I had about calling the shots with being on top were blown away.
Dean held my hips and lifted me up, then pulled me down, in a fast rhythm that had us both moaning. “Touch yourself, baby. Show me how you get off.”
That was easy to do, but it drove me closer to orgasm.
Dean groaned and thrust hard. “Make yourself come,” he said, “but keep your eyes on me.”
With one hand on his chest, I used the other to rub my clit. It only took a couple of strokes, and I was flying again, random oaths falling from my lips.
“Fuck yeah.” Dean pulled me down and devoured me, while pumping in staccato thrusts. He didn’t last much longer.
My knees gave out. I flopped onto his chest, a panting, exhausted mess.
It didn’t take long before real-world thoughts crept in. How could this work? I couldn’t move to Auckland with him, and he hated living in Peka Peka.
No. I wouldn’t allow myself to think beyond tonight. I’d worry about this in the morning.