Chapter 9

The shower slowly fills with steam. Am I really going through with this? Butterflies swarm my stomach. Maybe he wasn’t even serious. It’s not like we made any concrete plans. I agreed to later . I’m not sure what that even means. Later could mean tonight, a week from now, or on my seventy-fifth birthday.

If it is tonight, then I have a new problem to solve: Is a picnic just a picnic? Or is it more? If it’s more, then what? Another decision.

Here’s what I know: I want to feel alive . Desired, independent, spontaneous. Is it selfish to want those things? This is part of the new me. I can sleep with other men now. Sleep with them just for the hell of it.

“New beginnings come with growing pains.”

Stepping under the shower spray, I squeeze a small amount of shampoo into my palm and massage it into my hair and recall the days of listening to endless sermons that became more and more confusing as I grew older. I would study the faces in the congregation for any sign they felt the same way I did. They didn’t .

I envied every stranger on the outside, wondered what their lives were like and how desperately I wanted to trade with them. If only for a day. Everyone has their own struggles, and I understood there’s no way of knowing whether the grass was greener, but the monotony was going to kill me either way, so at least I’d have a change of scenery.

One impulsive night at a fire camp could never outweigh the shame of my years spent in The Fold. So what am I afraid of?

I rinse out the shampoo and add conditioner. Then suds up my legs and get started on shaving. What is sex like when it happens organically, by choice? Doubt creeps into my mind. Perhaps I should have done this with a stranger… What if it’s nothing like what I know? No, that can’t be true. It’s the same concept. I can follow his lead. Hell, tonight could simply be a picnic and I’m getting all keyed up over eating a damn bag of popcorn.

I roll my eyes at myself. Stop overthinking.

After drying off, I flip my head upside down and use the hand dryers on the wall to dry my hair while I work through some tangles. It doesn't dry completely, but it’s close enough. Brushing my teeth feels amazing, but it always does when I have cold water to rinse with. Then I stand in front of the mirror and lay out my drugstore eyeshadow, blush, and mascara, then swipe on the products. My application has improved and gotten faster over the few weeks I’ve started wearing it.

I check my phone to see he hasn’t texted me yet. Does he still want to get together? I shrug. I’ll feel silly if I just put on makeup for nothing. We finished eating dinner about an hour ago. I sat with Matt at a different table but caught Callahan glancing at me on more than one occasion, and I like the way he looks at me.

Back in my room, I pull out my paperback and attempt to read, but every few paragraphs, I have to start over because I get distracted. There’re so many people around. Even with my door shut, it’s too loud.

I grab my backpack and fill it with some of my winnings from the poker game. I came out ahead, which means my junk food cache is flush with snacks. Beginner’s luck. Cal kept his word and took the caramel corn. Next, I stuff my training manual and the fiction novel I was reading inside, zip it up, and throw it over my shoulder.

I knock on Matt’s door.

“Come in!” he hollers.

“Hey, do you mind if I get the keys for the rig?”

He nods and rolls to his side to reach his jacket, where he feels around in the pockets until he finds them. “Something you need?”

He tosses the keys in my direction, and I catch them out of the air. “Just wanted to read a little bit. And maybe go through the handbook. In peace.”

“Yeah, I hear ya. These guys can be loud as hell.” His words are punctuated by some boisterous laughter below. “Did you want me to go through any of the exercises with you?”

I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good. But I’ll text you if I run into any questions.” I lift my hand holding the keys. “Thanks again.”

“No prob.” I leave, and he shouts after me. “Don’t work too hard!”

“I won’t!”

At first it was chilly in the ambulance, but the temperature in the back has warmed enough for me to pull off my sweatshirt and set it aside. It’s been forty minutes with no messages from Callahan, but I’m not disappointed in the least. I’ve been savoring the solitude. Being around that many people in a small space reminds me of back home. While the hotshots have been the most entertainment I’ve had in a while, it’s nice to have a couple hours of quiet. Thunder rolls in the distance, and raindrops spatter on the ambulance roof. It’s comforting. The ambient sounds help me escape into the well-worn pages of my book.

My phone buzzes. One or two butterflies take flight in my stomach—as they tend to do when I finally get a text notification from him.

Callahan

Are you awake?

Yes.

Callahan

What are you doing?

Reading.

I snap a photo of the cover of my book and send it to him along with my response.

Callahan

Where at? I stopped by your room.

I peer out the window, but with the interior lights on, only my reflection stares back at me.

I’m in the rig.

Callahan

Want company? I’ve got snacks.

My stomach flips. Almost all our interactions have been through text. Any in-person contact has been in public, never one-on-one. Hidden away in the back of an ambulance while everyone else is inside the dormitory might as well be a remote cabin in the woods, though I’d prefer that scenario over this one. Remote cabins are romantic. Ambulances are… clinical.

Sure.

Callahan

Be down in a couple minutes.

Exhaling, I place the gas station receipt bookmark between the pages and run my fingers over the thin paper. This receipt represents so much. It was the decision to leave the place I once called home, and even when I stopped for gas, I kept going. The date has faded, and eventually, the print will vanish, along with any evidence of who I used to be. Just another piece of paper. Just another woman.

I’m not her anymore—maybe I never was. The present has always been my destiny. I feel it in my core.

A knock on the side door drags me from my thoughts. I straighten in the gurney I’ve been using as a reading chair and run my fingers through my hair and over my shirt, fixing the hem. The nerves are different, more jittery than skittish. There’s an underlying buzz of anticipation burning through my veins.

I open the door, and he stands there holding a blanket and a brown paper grocery bag. I back up, giving him room to enter. He climbs into the back and keeps his head ducked from hitting the ceiling. His hair is wet like he took a shower, or maybe it's from the rain. He sets the bag on the bench along the side wall and shuts the door behind him. Now that we’re in close quarters, I’m enveloped in the scent of cedar and soap.

“Hi.”

He takes a seat on the bench and looks around, appraising the ambulance. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Thank you.” I chuckle and shrug. “I like the privacy. ”

His eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles. “Me too.”

It’s hard not to hear innuendo in his words. His gruff voice coaxes more butterflies to take flight, so I avert my gaze as a blush rises to my cheeks.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, unzipping my pack.

“Oh, no, this is my treat.” He shakes open the blanket and dumps out the bag of snacks on top. “I went all out.”

“I can see that. Those bags of caramel corn look a little familiar.”

He laughs. “Fair point. But I brought a picnic blanket. Partial credit?”

“Where did you find the blanket?”

He turns over the corner, and it’s embroidered with CAMP BLUE SKY. “Stole it from the gift shop.”

“Lies and steals? It’s so hard to find a guy that does both! Lucky me.”

“They don’t make ’em like me anymore,” he says with a cocky smile, then gestures to the prepackaged spread before us. “You wanna get in on this?”

I move from the jump seat across from him to the bench, keeping the snacks between us.

“Okay, ground rules. Everything is up for grabs, but”—he snatches up the bags of caramel corn—“these are mine.”

“You can have them.”

“You don’t like caramel corn?”

“I do, but I only know how to make it in huge batches. After a dozen helpings, I’m happy to share.”

He drops his head down, opening the bag. “Let’s see how you did.” He chews thoughtfully, savoring it, and smiles. “That’s heavenly.”

“Thanks. I’ll give you the recipe.”

“Yeah, but if you make it, it gives me an excuse to see you.”

A grin grows on my lips. “Why do you need an excuse?”

“I guess I don’t… Does this mean I get a second date? ”

“Is this a first date?” I ask with raised brows.

“Obviously!” He scans our surroundings. “Can’t you tell by the half-empty Pringles can and the charming ambulance?”

I laugh. “Setting the bar pretty high for yourself. How will you ever top this?”

“I won’t,” he says, chuckling. “It’s all downhill from here. You’ll be looking at a future of riding go-karts and dinners with drinks. Maybe even stargazing. Poor thing.” He opens a bag of cheese balls, and a couple roll onto the floor.

“Normally, I’d say five-second rule, but I don’t even want to think of all the bodily fluids you have in a place like this. I don’t want to catch hepatitis or something.”

My hand presses to my chest. “I’m offended! My rig is totally sanitized and clean. This ambulance is spotless.”

Nudging his shoulder toward the stray cheese ball on the floor. “You eat it, then.” He cracks open a can of soda and takes a sip.

“Hell no. It’s still an ambulance.” Laughter comes easy with him, and I enjoy the effortless dynamic between us.

“Okay, see if you can catch one,” he says, setting his drink to the side.

I back up on the bench, and he lobs a cheese ball in the air, but I squint and miss. “Oh no!”

“Don’t close your eyes!” He laughs. “You’re wasting food.”

I lean forward and steal the bag from him. “It’s hard! Okay, your turn.” I toss one up, and he lines up his mouth with the trajectory of its fall, biting it out of the air.

He reaches for the bag, and I hand it over. “Okay, you got this, Scottie. Ready? This time, don’t close your eyes.”

In my second attempt, I successfully catch the flying cheese ball. My arms shoot up in victory, and I accidentally smash my knuckles on the overhead cabinet.

“Shit, are you okay?” He chuckles .

I nod, laughing harder, and tuck my throbbing hand to my chest. “Nailed it.”

We go back and forth catching orange projectiles with our mouths and making small talk. We share more than a physical attraction, with a playfulness and ease that feel so… familiar. Even though I’ve never experienced it until now.

“So, why are you a hotshot?”

He pauses, then clears his throat. “The adventure, the camaraderie, the work we do… It’s addicting. On the other hand, there’s isolation from real world skills that leave us somewhat trapped. Once you’re a wildland firefighter, you can’t simply walk away. It’s a love-hate relationship with fire. But what other job will pay you to fly into Yosemite National Park, cut hundred-year-old trees, and then light the place on fire?

“If you’re lucky, your crew is tight knit. You spend years on road trips with your friends while trauma bonding, solving unique challenges, and overcoming hardships. I love the landscape I work in, and it’s worth knowing I can protect its health.

“I’ve taken a helicopter into parts of this country that are inaccessible to most people, managed millions of dollars of air resources, rescued people on the worst days of their lives, and am paid to live in a wilderness people shell out big money just to see.”

Wow .

Having only been in their presence for a handful of days, there’s a nomad-like energy they all share. One I respect—and envy. It’s what carried me to Washington. I work up the nerve to look him in the eye and admit something I’ve never said out loud. “I wasted so much of my life staying in one spot. I admire your sense of adventure.”

The two seconds he holds my attention feel like two hours. The air is thick with friction, and his hungry eyes reflect the same need in mine. The sensation of being desired is something I could drown in. I never want to let go of it. There’s nothing artificial or fake about his touch when he grabs me and pulls me into his lap. He’s not just going through the motions with me.

“Do you kiss on the first date?” His voice is rough and gravelly. I’ve never loved my life as much as I do at this moment.

I nod. Cal doesn’t rush, the depth of his gaze is intoxicating. It’s calculated and intentional. His hands travel up my arms, and one palm threads into my hair, the touch potent. His fingers massage over my scalp as he gently grips the strands. My eyes flutter closed. It feels so good. It’s firm and demanding. Passionate in ways I’ve never experienced. His free hand wanders to my lower back and presses me tighter to him.

My eyes open, and he pulls my locks once more. My exhale is a small moan as he brings my mouth to his lips.

It’s an explosion of sexual tension and need, and my brain is filled with sizzling fireworks and exalted hallelujahs. It’s every description of a kiss I’d convinced myself were lies. It does feel like this.

I’m paralyzed by him. He releases my hair, and with his thumb on my chin, he parts my lips and brands me with his kiss, tasting like caramelized sugar. He groans, and a heat spreads to my center. My hands drift from his shoulders to his chest, where I clutch his shirt. I never want to let go, so I draw him nearer, needing him more than my next breath.

If kissing Callahan feels this incredible, anything more might kill me. His breathy chuckle tells me he’s as surprised by this kiss as I am. His tongue slides across mine, and his hands move to my waist, squeezing my sides and rolling my hips against him. I gasp and pause. Oh my god—he’s hard. For me. The seam on my jeans pushes against my clit, and I close my eyes.

He kisses under my ear, and his teeth scrape the side of my neck. “Still with me?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, out of breath.

He unbuttons and unzips my jeans, then finds the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head. I unhook my bra, and he slips it off my shoulders and onto the floor.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

My nipples harden as his thumbs brush over them, and he plucks each one as his tongue finds mine.

“With me?” he asks again.

I hum, then he pushes me off him and works my jeans down my legs before sitting back and gazing over my body. I stare back at him and become self-conscious when he says nothing. Lowering my head, I scan over my hips and torso. What’s he looking at?

“You’re a smokeshow.” He smiles bigger and stands, gripping his shirt at the nape of his neck and tugging it off. A tattoo of an eagle clutching a snake in its talons spans his chest. My eyes are lured away when he unbuckles his belt, so I toe off my shoes and kick out of my jeans. He stands and does the same, shucking his pants and boots, and the outline in his boxer briefs is more than I know what to do with. Then he peels my underwear from my legs, and I stumble backward onto the blanket-covered bench. This definitely can’t go back to the camp store. He falls to his knees, and my jaw drops when he shoves my legs apart. Holy shit, he’s bold.

His mouth caresses my inner thigh, then he nips. I jerk, and he grasps behind my knees, dragging me to the edge again. “Still with me?”

I’ve never done this before.

“Yes.”

He kisses up my left thigh as his right hand slides up my other one, and the anticipation multiplies when his thumb traces my entrance. “Always,” I say. Always yes.

He presses two fingers in, and my head falls back, then he pulls out before repeating the motion. I moan as he sucks on my inner thigh and pumps his fingers inside me, he curls them, and massages a spot I’ve only ever reached with a toy. Crying out, he chuckles.

“What’s funny?” I can barely take a breath.

He pauses from sucking, removing his mouth, and there’s a ring of bruised flesh in its place. “I like the sounds you make.”

I bite my lip.

He sits back and watches while he torments me. It’s so seductive. He adds another finger, and my face floods with pink as the wetness echoes through the ambulance.

“Unreal,” he smiles. “All I’ve thought about is eating your pussy. I’ve been craving it all fucking night.” He yanks me closer and seals his mouth over me, trailing his tongue over my clit and staring up at me from between my legs.

“Holy,” I mumble, trembling. I want to scream. I take in the image of him licking between my thighs and the fire in his eyes as he does it. I get the impression he knows exactly what this is doing to me and can’t get enough.

Our eyes meet and he grins. “So fucking sweet.” Callahan flattens his tongue and licks up the center while staring into my eyes. His hips rock against the bench cabinet as he devours me, and I’m in awe—but I want more. “Tell me you have a condom.”

No response.

“Fuck me, Cal… Please?”

He glances up and shakes his head. “I’m not done eating.”

I sink a hand into his hair and relax back into the bench, tilting my head to the side and admiring how attractive he is as he brings me more pleasure than I’ve ever known. His fingers enter me again, and a foreign feeling grows in my core. It feels so good, but it’s not fully gratifying. I grip his hair as the sensation builds and builds. Is this…

His lips lock onto my clit, and he sucks.

“Holy fuck. Cal… Cal!” White light explodes behind my eyes, and I’m helpless as I surrender to the euphoria.

I did it .

I came.

“That’s it, baby, that’s so good. Damn, you’re sexy when you come.”

It’s the first time a man has made me come. I’m speechless.

He leans to the side and fishes his wallet from his back pocket, revealing a condom.

A smug smile grows on his lips, and I cup his chin and swipe the pad of my thumb over his scruff, clearing some of the wetness I left behind. He pulls my thumb into his mouth and sucks. The only thing I want in this entire world is to be filled up by Callahan Woods and fucked into oblivion.

He stands and shoves his boxer briefs down. His cock is thick and heavy, even in his large palm as he rolls the condom on. While sweeping the remaining snack wrappers onto the floor, he commands me to “Lay back.”

I swallow and situate myself with my back on the fuzzy blanket. Finally. He braces one knee between me and the back of the bench and keeps his other foot planted on the floor. The bench is too shallow for anything more. His tip presses into me, and I stretch around his girth. “Oh my god… oh my god,” I murmur, clasping his shoulders.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He meets my gaze and lifts his chin. “Relax, Scottie.”

I slowly inhale, forcing my muscles to slacken despite their objection. It’s the most delicious pain. I shouldn’t want more, but I do. I want all of him.

His voice is coaxing. “Eyes on me.”

Cal withdraws and I exhale. Why did he stop? I prop up on my elbows, but any words of protest die in my throat when he spits on my entrance. “You have such a pretty pussy.” He rubs the saliva around, pushing his thumb inside and stretching me before lining himself up. This time, the pain softens when he inches deeper. My body settles around him, and I relax onto the bench .

He smirks. “That’s my girl.”

With winded breaths, I soak up the sensation of fullness. His hand drifts up my stomach, traveling between my breasts. My nipples pebble under his touch. Gradually, his hips rock, and I feel everything . The blanket slides easily on the vinyl-covered bench, and I brace my arms against the cabinet behind me for resistance. “Cal… this is…”

“I know, baby,” he pants, in understanding. “Me too.”

I’m in over my head. It’s so much all at once. I expected the physical sex being better, sure. I’ve visited websites that show people enjoying themselves with their partner. However, nothing could have prepared me for the emotional repercussions. The connection. The barrage of too-intense feelings that hit all at once. I don’t know what to do with it. Passion is a powerful drug.

The attraction between us is undeniable, and this is a monumental step for me. My eyes brim with tears, so I pull him down until our chests touch. I lock my arms around his neck so he can’t see the emotion rolling down my cheeks. It’s happiness and joy and freedom. He wouldn’t understand.

I stealthily swipe at my face and blow out a breath, gathering my composure. Then I kiss him with all that I have. His strokes become more aggressive and frantic. It’s incredible. He readily accepts every whimper and sinks his teeth into my bottom lip. Fuck. I bury my fingernails into the flesh of his shoulders and scratch down his back. His growl is animalistic, and I can’t tell if I’m the rabbit or the fox.

“Goddamn, Scottie.”

Callahan is generous and demanding at the same time. He pulls out and stands, taking me with him. My mind swirls with the heady need for more. The man drops into the reclined gurney in the center of the ambulance. He turns me away from him, then guides me to walk backward. I widen my stance to straddle his thighs, and he wraps an arm around my waist, aligning my opening with the head of his cock. “Can I call you a good girl when you’re being my good girl?”

I suck in a breath, and nod. Mercy. Directing me lower, he notches his crown inside me. The arm around my middle tethers me to his chest. He spits into his free hand, then slaps it against my clit, sending a burst of need through me.

“Ah!”

“Good girl,” he praises. “Now take it all.” I’m slammed down on top of him, and my eyes roll back. He slides his hands under my thighs and settles my legs to sit outside his. He spreads his wider, putting me on display for anyone walking past the windowed doors. The risk of exposure enhances every sensation. His palm covers mine, and he positions it just above my pelvis, then presses deep. I feel the faint outline of his length, and my head falls back to rest on his shoulder. It’s so hot. “Feel how full you are?”

Arousal rips through my core, and I shudder. “I need this.” His other hand sweeps my hair to the side, and his lips brush over my shoulder blade.

“So tight… Keep pushing down.”

I follow directions, like a good girl . His hand leaves mine, and I maintain the pressure against my flesh when he cups my sides and moves me up and down his cock.

“Fuck!” I cry out, and my voice grows louder.

“That’s right, baby. You are such a good fuck.” His chuckle is taunting.

His hand slips under my chin, and he circles my throat without applying force. “Still with me?”

I nod. “Always.”

Intentional choking in the back of an ambulance… That’s new.

With the back of my head still resting on his shoulder, I look up at the ceiling, but all I see are stars. I squirm and succumb to the urge to grind in his lap .

“I know you want to move, sweetheart, but keep your legs open for me.”

Grasping the sides of his thighs is all I can do to hold on. I’m racked with involuntary shakes, and my forehead breaks out in a cold sweat as another orgasm swells. I groan with a clenched jaw. It’s so hard to sit still.

My eyes find the back windows, and I stare in awe at the reflection of him pounding into me from below.

“See how stunning you are getting fucked by a fat cock? The way your eyes sparkle when you’re taking it?” He slaps my clit, then impales me down on him. My mouth drops open, and his palms grip my waist again as he works me over like I’m his personal fuck toy. My moans shake as I’m bounced on top of him. It’s relentless bliss. There’s not a muscle in me that isn’t fully engaged.

“Eyes forward.”

I affix my gaze to the windows in front of us; he’s so handsome. Callahan shakes his head. “Not on me—on you. Watch yourself come.”

“Cal… Don’t stop.”

My breasts jump with each thrust. There’s something strangely healing about watching myself get ravaged by this man. A smile creeps onto my face, I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me—she’s uninhibited and raw and fearless. I love this. I love sex. How could this ever be considered a sin? It’s beautiful.

“Come on, baby…” His words are deep and commanding. “Come all over me. There you go, that pussy’s squeezing so tight. You’re almost there.”

It sends me over, and my jaw drops on a silent scream.

“Do it, Scottie!” he growls as his teeth rake against my skin, sending goose bumps across my flesh and making me shiver. My eyes pinch shut, but he shouts my name, and I open them again, witnessing myself overwhelmed with ecstasy .

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make.”

I don’t remember making sounds. I remember nothing at the moment. Only searing pleasure. He slowly brings me down from the high, and the sweat on his chest makes him glide against my back. “Spin around,” he orders, breathless.

With wobbly legs, I stand.

“Whoa, easy.” He stabilizes and pulls me back down. I can’t catch my breath, but I straddle him and grunt as I’m filled with him again—this time facing each other. It’s more intimate than before. He presses his forehead to mine, and I squeeze his biceps, gripping the firm muscles for support.

“We can rest for a minute, just grind.”

It’s exhilarating. The thrill makes my skin buzz. It’s like the first time I got drunk and wondered why anyone would ever choose to be sober. Will waking up tomorrow feel like paying a debt, or will I crave it all over again? He bows his head and blows out a breath, seemingly enjoying the show of our bodies moving together.

“Beautiful,” he mutters. His lips seal over my nipples, and he sucks.

His mouth on me while my hips grind against him is a different experience. My body is spent, muscles fatigued, but they don’t quit. This is an indulgence like I’ve never known, and there’s no guarantee I’ll get it again.

We regard each other, and it’s as if time stops, even if only briefly. His smile is magnetic. Genuine and real. He’s so present, living in the moment. With his eyes on mine, our setting falls away. Callahan’s gaze drops to my lips, and he cups the back of my neck, draws me closer, and kisses me. It’s powerful. I roll my hips, and he moans. I love that I can affect him the way he does me. His palms rest on my waist, just above the crease of my thighs, and he leads me as I rock on his length, seeking gratification.

“Fuck, I’m not ready to come yet. ”

In a split second, he clutches my ass, flips me around, and drops me onto the gurney. He reclines it until it’s almost flat.

“Do you like restraints?” he pants.

I glimpse down at the heavy-duty velcro straps. “I-I’ve never—I don’t know?”

“Want to find out?”

I’m not a virgin by any means, but this is nothing like the sex I’ve had before. Relying on sheer untamed salacity, I respond. “Definitely.”

My cheeks heat, and I scoot back toward the center. He drops one knee on the gurney, my legs fall off the sides, and he rips the velcro apart. “What do you want your safeword to be?”

“My safeword?” I read about this. There’s a stoplight thing. “Red?”

“Red it is.” He places my wrists in the strap and secures them.

“Ready?”

I nod. He lifts my legs and rests my calves against his shoulders before plunging into me. Heaven on earth.

I moan and he smiles. “You like it?”

I love it.

It’s surrender. He could do anything to me, and there’s nothing I could do but take it. My breasts angle toward him when I arch my back. “Mm-hm,” I murmur.

“Okay…” he says, “I want one more from you.”

Another orgasm. Is he serious? I’m a runner, but he’s a hotshot. It’s no contest who has the stronger stamina here. He’s doing all the work, yet I’m the one out of breath. My chest heaves. The air feels so damn thin.

“You okay?”

“Sorry... It’s like I’ve forgotten how to breathe.”

“Shit, me too.” He laughs and I join him. “Damn, I like it when you laugh while I’m fucking you.” It makes me giggle harder. He groans. My laughter fades when he stares into my eyes. “Just like that.”

The way this man works should be criminal. He alternates between teasingly slow, long strokes, and quick, hungry ones. Each is timed perfectly. Every push and pull notches up the tension. It’s too much and never enough. I can’t believe this is my life right now.

I blink up at him and hold his gaze while listening to the steady rhythm of sex as he drives inside me. This is not sex, this is something else entirely. It’s far more intense and erotic. My heart drums behind my ribcage like it will beat right out of my chest.

Balling my hands into fists, I utilize every last shred of strength and flexibility I possess to meet each thrust. It’s a useless exercise. Callahan doesn’t compromise, he simply takes and never lets up. My inhales quickly become labored and short. I’m so close to coming again.

He narrows his eyes, and I shake my head adamantly. Before he has a chance to check on me, I answer.

“I’m fine. Don’t stop.” I’m gulping for breath. How is he still going?

“Time out.” He slows but doesn’t cease.

He pulls one of the O2 masks from the wall and places it over my face. “Slow breaths.” He grins at me. “Nice and slow… Just feel.”

Part of me wants to laugh at the absurdity, but the other half is so turned on by him forcing me to inhale oxygen while dragging himself in and out. I can do nothing but listen to his instruction. My body vibrates with pleasure. Is this what it feels like to get high? I’m floating.

“Good god… this pussy was made for me. Where did you come from?”

“Arkansas,” I rasp.

He leans forward and barks out a laugh, then removes the mask from me and places it on his face, taking a hit of O2 before dropping it aside.

“Now why don’t you show me what a good girl you are and make that pretty cunt of yours milk my cock.”

My eyes widen at his words, and a grin spreads across his lips. I’d do just about anything for that smile. I drop my legs from his shoulders and he presses his mouth to mine. He grips the back of the gurney for leverage and barrels into me. Every pound sends me higher. I’m so close. He adjusts his body, allowing his length to reach my G-spot.

Callahan encourages me the whole way. “Keep taking it. You can do it. Come on, one more.”

My mind empties, focusing only on the carnal bliss he brings. His forehead touches mine. My brow furrows and muscles stiffen as I search his eyes.

“Show me how much you love it, Scottie. Come on this fucking cock,” he demands.

His words flood my thoughts, enhancing every physical sensation with an emotional one. He massages his thumb on my clit, and his movements become more frantic. I erupt at the same time he does, and he buries himself to the hilt.

It’s not as powerful as the first two, but I still come harder than any experience prior to tonight. He grunts, hammering into me with long hard thrusts. He nips at my neck, growling in my ear as he comes. I’m speechless.

“Is… is it always like that?” I ask, with winded speech.

“No.” His chin drops, and he gives a headshake while we catch our breath together. When his gaze finds mine, he releases a deep exhale and smiles. “No, it’s not always like that.” He presses a kiss to my temple. His palms encircle my wrists, freeing the velcro and kneading the red marks where the straps dug into my skin. I never knew rough hands could be so tender.

We rest together and listen to the heavy, pelting rain patter against the roof, and our breathing returns to normal .

The moment is interrupted by a loud crack of thunder that rocks the ambulance, and the interior is filled with the brightest light I’ve ever seen. Callahan jolts backward, throwing himself into one of the cabinets. “Holy shit!” Adrenaline has my heart rate soaring. “Are you all right?”

He doesn’t answer. He looks lost.

One of the building’s exterior lights pops on. Spearing my arm through the passthrough window to the cab, I slap the patient dome light off to shroud us in darkness.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they do, I pick up my jeans, jump into them, and toss on my shirt, skipping over my underwear and bra. “Cal…” I reach for him, and his body trembles. What is happening?

“Whoa. Hey? Callahan.”

“I’m fine,” he snaps. “I just need a minute.”

I nod and collect his clothes, setting them next to him on the bench. Sitting beside him, I thread my fingers with his. I’m not sure what he’s got going on, but I want to remind him he’s not alone. He grips my hand in a vise. My eyes fall to our tightly clasped hands, barely visible in the shadows.

Less than a minute later, voices can be heard near the entrance to the dorm. I lean over to peek out one of the windows, and a few guys are taking a smoke break outside. Cal releases my fingers and removes the condom, then pats the bench next to him, feeling for his clothes. He pulls his boxer briefs on, then grabs his pants.

“Don’t shift too much or you’ll rock the rig,” I whisper.

“If the rig’s a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’,” he jokes, his voice hollow.

I’ve never seen someone lock up so fast. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“I’m good.” He moves cautiously as he dresses. Each of us scan the area for clothes tossed on the floor earlier. I slip on my sweatshirt, then find my bra and tuck it into the pocket .

Where the hell are my… “I can’t find my underwear.”

“They’re in my pocket,” he answers. “I’m keeping them.”

“Thief and a liar.” I narrow my eyes and shake my head with a small smile.

“And a gambler…” he adds, sounding more like himself. “Maybe you can play me for them sometime.”

“You’re terrible.” I chuckle and feel around on the floor for my socks. Foil wrappers from our snacks crinkle as my fingers brush over them. Thank God nobody was hurt, or this would take some explaining; what we did here was far too risky and can’t happen again.