Page 80 of Exposed Ink

“Thank you,” I whisper against his lips.

He introduces me to several people, whose names I’ll sadly never remember because there are too many people, and then he grabs us a drink.

“Evans,” a gentleman yells. “You ready to get this grill going?”

“Duty calls,” Shane says, giving me a quick kiss on my cheek. “Want to join me?”

“Sure.”

I don’t know anyone, and Taylor immediately took off to chat with people she knows.

We go inside the station, and Shane gives me a quick tour of the place. It looks more like a house than what I’d imagine a fire station would look like.

When he shows me where he sleeps, I can’t help but give him a hard time.

“Is this where you lie in bed and think of me?”

I plop onto the mattress and bounce a little, and Shane groans.

“You know I think of you all the time,” he says, pulling me back up and pushing me gently against the wall. “But I try not to think of you like that while I’m here since I’m surrounded by four other guys, and it would suck to get a hard-on and not be able to do anything about it.”

He rubs his pelvis against me, and I feel his bulge forming.

“Well, I’m here now.” I reach down and cup him through the material of his shorts. Then, after unzipping them, I pull his hard length out.

Dropping to my knees, I give his swollen head an open-mouthed kiss and then slide his velvety-smooth shaft in and out of my mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, which spurs me on to take him all the way down my throat.

“What do you say, Evans?” I glance up from giving him head. “Think you can be quick and quiet?”

“Oh, Sour Patch.” He chuckles. “You’re the one who’s going to be screaming my name.”

He pulls me to my feet and slants his mouth against mine as he lifts me against the wall, pushes my jean skirt to my hips, and shoves my panties to the side.

A few minutes later, true to his word, we’re both moaning each other’s name as Shane fucks me against the wall until we find our release.

“I’m never going to be able to sleep in here again without thinking about fucking you against the wall,” he says as he carries me to the bathroom so we can get cleaned up.

“Good.” I kiss the corner of his jaw. “I like knowing that you’re thinking about me because I’m always thinking about you.”

The boyish grin he grants me causes butterflies to attack my chest.

Once we’re cleaned up, he finishes showing me around, and then we head to the kitchen. He makes the patties for the burgers and prepares the chicken for the grill while I cut up the veggies. Then, we take everything back outside to where the grill is.

“Shane!” a petite woman says, waddling over, looking like she’s ready to pop, with a gentleman who’s sporting an identical shirt to the one Shane is wearing, telling me he’s a firefighter as well.

“Sandra.” Shane gives her a kiss on her cheek. “Kinsley, this is Sandra and David Fowler. David works the same shift as me.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell them.

“Actually,” David says, “we already met. I was with Shane when you had that allergic reaction.”

“Oh,” I breathe, mortified.

Shane chuckles and pulls me into his side. “I hate that you ingested raw fruit, but I’m damn glad you forgot your EpiPen,” he says, making everyone laugh.

While Shane grills the burgers and chicken, I help a few other women set up the side dishes on the serving tables.

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