Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Brady shakes his head and opens his locker. “Dude, that’s about a cop, not a firefighter.”
“Same thing. Tyrant kids.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You realize part of the job is helping people. As in, you’re supposed to be empathetic?”
“Says who? I don’t need to coddle anyone, I need to keep them alive.”
“Real romancer. I can imagine all the women falling at your feet,” Brady says, shoving his legs through his fire pants.
“My women like me just the way I am: fierce and to the point. They don’t want roses and chocolate. They want my tongue shoved inside their sweet—”
I grunt. “Yeah. Got it. Don’t need any more of that visual.”
Mitchell shrugs. “Just sayin’. Not all women need their hands held. Some like them tied up.”
His comment sparks my anger. That temptress who lured me in and hung me out to dry. My arms hung from that damn bedpost for almost twelve hours.
“Hard pass. I’ll stick with a woman who doesn’t prefer whips and chains.” I climb into my turnout pants and slide on my suspenders.
“Don’t knock it ’til you try it. Some chicks get real freaky.”
Oh, I’ve tried it. I want nothing more than to burn it out of my memory. Everything from her addictive eyes to her stern voice. God, her amazing body. . . “Nah, I’m good.”
“Your loss. Once, I orgasmed so hard, I thought I was gonna bust a nut.”
“Jesus,” Brady gripes. “At no point do I care to hear about you busting a nut.”
Mitchell offers him another shrug. “It was like busting a nut, figuratively and literally.”
I stifle out a laugh and shut my locker. “As educational as this conversation is, let’s get this over with.”
“I knew a guy who actually busted a nut.” He carries on. “Full-on exploded the fucker. Jumped off a roof thinking he was going to make it into this pool. Guy missed it and hit the edge. Ruptured his sac. His ball shot inside him and practically popped out his mouth.”
My balls shrivel up and hide at the mere thought. “For the love of—my balls have heard enough.” We head out to the garage. “Brady, you’re driving.” I toss him the keys to the engine and climb in shotgun. The drive over is painful. Mitchell insists on filling us in on his night with some dominatrix. My chest hurts from laughing by the time we make it to the school.
“All right, boys, let’s make this quick.” Brady parks out front, and I hop down, leaving my jacket in the truck. We head to the front entrance.
A slender woman greets us as we enter the school. “My goodness, thank you so much for doing this. The kids have been asking nonstop. Their poor teacher. It’s her first day, and she almost had to dress up to appease them. I rarely ask my husband to get involved. My gratitude is infinite.” She reaches out her hand. “Mary Caldwell.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Caldwell. Captain Ben Wallace. This is Mitchell and Brady. We’re all yours unless we get a call.”
“Absolutely. Please, follow me.”
She rushes inside, and we trek behind her. Mitchell throws me a scowl. “We’re all yours?” he whispers.
Brady slaps his chest. “Chill. We’ll be out of here before you know it. Maybe you’ll even meet one of your secret love children.”
“Fuck off. I don’t have secret babies. Well. . . at least—”
“What was that?” Mary turns around.
“Nothing, ma’am. Admiring the cleanliness of your school.”
Mrs. Caldwell’s cheeks flush. “Oh, thank you. I do my best to keep a tidy environment. Here we are. Ms. Fischer has done an amazing job keeping these kids busy until you arrived.” She knocks on the door, and the woman waves for her to enter through the window.
“Again, they are very excited.”
Mrs. Caldwell turns the knob, and Mitchell leans toward me, whispering, “Kindergarten Cop, man. . .” I swat him away as the door opens and shouts filter through.
“Class, let’s all calm down. We practiced our quiet excitement voices; now let’s try using them.”
“Ms. Fischer, I would like to introduce you and the class to some of our local firefighters.” Mrs. Caldwell steps out of the way, and my stomach bottoms out. Those eyes, plump lips, and perky tits. This time, instead of a tight silk dress, she’s in a white blouse and gray pencil skirt.
“You,” I hiss, taking a menacing step toward her. Her jaw falls to the ground.
“I’m sorry, do you two know one another?” Mrs. Caldwell asks. Oh, I know her all right—
“No, I can’t say we do. Hello, gentlemen. Thank you for coming today. I have a group of children dying to meet you.” Her denial of even knowing me pisses me off more. I fight not to throw her over her desk and spank the shit out of her.
We don’t know each other.
She offers Brady and Mitchell a smile, not even attempting to look my way.