Page 8 of Lion's Legacy of Flame

I’m not in love with the package in my mouth. Um wait. Yeah, I probably am but what I mean is that it’s not just that. I’m in love with the whole package.

I’m so into it that I don’t even get a hint that he’s about to cum until I’m fighting to swallow as fast as I can so I can breathe.He reaches down and strokes my hair but I keep my mouth on him for a long while. Then, I finally back away and keep my distance because I want to just jump on him right now.

But I stop myself and get back on my feet. I love the suspense of what will come later, though, I can tell you. I sit him downand then run to my room. I put on a robe and then get dinner on the table and call him in.As we talk, my feelings for him start to become very present in my mind. I talk with him in a way that I can’t talk to anyone else.

I feel comfortable enough to tell him about the continuing threats from Steele.The man is pushing for me to vacate the property and making comments that scare me. I tell Brady about the vague threats he’s made to our food trucks, about how they can suddenly crash and such. I get a bit overworked about it, but Brady just listens.

“I think he started the fire but, of course, I can’t prove it,” I say. I feel kind of insane. I mean, I feel stupid even as I talk about Steele. I realize that I might sound like a wacko conspiracy person, but I just can’t shake my feelings that Steele is behind the fire at Mealtime and that he intends us more harm in the future.

But Brady doesn’t shake his head and dismiss me. He listens.

I can’t express how wonderful that feels, to have someone just listen. He doesn’t throw out doubts or opinions or solutions. He just listens. Once more, my feelings for the man well up and I get quiet.

After a moment, I almost sob. “Am I just nuts?”

Brady doesn’t answer, just pushes his empty plate back and gets up. I have a sudden fear that he’s about to walk out the door and leave the crazy conspiracy lady behind forever.

Then, he’s standing by my chair and taking my hand, kissing it and then, pulling me close and kissing my lips.

He doesn’t say a thing, but I know in that moment without a doubt that he is with me.

He sweeps me up into his powerful fireman arms and carries me to bed.

Chapter Seven

Brady

I look at the text and put the phone back in my pocket. “You know,” I say, and I suppose I’m definitely in a gray area here, “A good buddy of mine is a fire inspector. Name’s Clyde Anderson.”

“You got a point to make?” Steele asks. I want to punch the man so badly it hurts.

“A fire inspector can make construction difficult, you know. A good one identifies potential fire hazards in a building design that you might never even see. A good one might come up with problems that will require significant modifications, additional safety features, extensive documentation, evidence of compliance… More.”

“I always build to code, and I don’t…” His phone rings. He frowns and answers. I see the anger building in his eyes. My guess is Clyde has already shut something down. “What the hell is this?” he asks when he hangs up.

“Clyde is always delaying construction progress with re-inspections and stop-work orders. I guess it’s a common thing for a fire inspector.” Clyde isn’t breaking any rules right now.He’s just interpreting fire safety codes very strictly. Forest for the trees sort of stuff.

“What the hell do you want?” he asks.

“Sometime, the fire inspector might require extra smoke detectors, sprinklers, fire alarms. They might even make you add doors and emergency exits, right?”

“Damn it, what do you want?”

“Inspectors can request detailed plans, calculations, and certifications for fire-related systems…”

“Okay, you made your point! What do you?—”

“Follow-up inspections, specialized engineering calculations, materials inspections. I mean, can you imagine if every delivery of lumber had to be sampled and sent to a lab?”

The man roars and leaps to his feet. He steps toward me and says, “I’ve had enough!”

“Think very, very carefully about your next move,” I say, “because I’ve been fighting with myself to resist putting you in the hospital. You don’t want me to have an excuse to do what I very much want to do.”

He stops short and finally says, “Okay, what do you want?”

“You’re going to donate eighty-four thousand dollars to Mealtime.”

He scowls and then pretends to be confused. “Mealtime? What is that?”

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