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It’s another arson fire.This time an abandoned building, a few blocks from the high school they burned last week.
Once again, Lia finds the evidence. She discovers three bottles of lighter fluid near an open window. I rode her ass last time for poking around after the fire is out, and I should’ve taken a bite out of her again, but I don’t.
Mostly because a thought occurs to me.
Lia’s good at this shit.
Why wouldn’t she be? She’s a pyro. She was the kid who played with fire. I’m almost certain she set the fire that burned her parents’ house down, whether by accident or on purpose. So she knows how a pyro thinks. And, as if that wasn’t enough, she’s a cop’s kid. All her family’s in the NYPD.
It’s like she was born to be a fire investigator.
It’s a perfect profession for her.
I file that away for later, something to talk to her about—maybe research when the next training will be. It’s not part of our department—fire marshals and fire inspectors are county positions, and we’re city, but I know some inspectors. They usually come from our ranks—guys who have been injured or are getting too old for firefighting.
We climb back in the fire truck. It’s two hours past our shift and we’re all tired as shit, but I told Lia I’d take care of her, and I’m going to. The crew gets back to the station, and we strip off our turnouts and hit the showers. Lia’s nowhere to be found when I come out, and I have to fight back a little panic.
She needed me and now she’s gone off on her own.
But Lia’s a big girl. She doesn’t set fires or cause destruction anymore. She’s not going to hurt herself or anyone else.
I could call or text her, but I’m too tired to navigate what to say. I don’t even know if she still needs a release after the night we’ve had. I take the subway straight to her neighborhood and buzz her apartment.
She doesn’t answer at first, so I buzz again in the ‘shave and a haircut’ rhythm so she knows it’s a friendly 2 a.m. visitor. After a few more beats, her voice comes through the intercom. “Yeah?”
“It’s me. Let me up.”
She releases the lock on the door, and I go stomping up the steps. The door to her apartment is open a crack and I push right in.
Damn.
She’s in her PJs, which consist of a tiny red cami and soft shorts that only cover half her ass.
I don’t say a word. I don’t know, I guess I’ve used my up my speaking quotient for the day. I wrap my fist in her hair and pull her head back. She blinks up at me, need and longing there, burning behind her eyes. My concern she no longer wants this evaporates.
I stamp my mouth over hers for a quick but brutal kiss, then walk her backward to her bedroom. I release her and unbuckle my belt. Her eyes track the movement, pupils dilating. I’m not going to use it on her—at least not the way she’s thinking, but I love the flutter of her pulse in her neck. I pull her wrists behind her back and fasten my belt around them a few times before, pulling the end through the buckle.
I fold her over the edge of the bed, my dick getting chubby from manhandling her. The first swat is hard, but I rub the sting away, massaging as I relearn the curves of her ass. Her scent fills my nostrils, and a sense of satisfaction—of rightness pours through my veins. I slap her ass and once more rub it out. The sting of my palm brings my purpose into focus. Nothing matters but satisfying my little girl. Giving her everything she needs and more.
I pull her miniscule shorts off—time to get down to business.
I press one hand between her shoulder blades and start a proper spanking—hard, fast strokes meant to challenge her.
She gasps and twists, stamps her bare feet on the fluffy shag rug.
Seeing my handprints bloom on her flesh gets me rock hard. I keep spanking, steady and unforgiving, until she’s panting and her ass is rosy pink.
Only then do I let myself touch between her legs.
Sopping wet. She’s slick and swollen and begging to be taken.
It may seem backwards, but I can’t take her without asking. Words need to be spoken now—it’s time to untwist my tongue.
“What do you need, pretty girl?” My voice comes out sounding deep and gravelly.
“You.” She answers without hesitation.
“You want my cock, baby?” I give it a hard squeeze through my jeans.
