First of all, I am so excited to be included in this amazing anthology. I’ve had the pleasure of reading all the stories and that made me even more excited to be a part of this! Thank you Delilah for the opportunity.
When I first saw the call for Smokin Hot Firemen, I was in the middle of editing Training Tess, a BDSM short story. I guess that’s why, when Mark Connor started speaking to me, he was, of course, a Dom.
Firemen are super sexy anyway, with all their, ahem, equipment. But if you add in a dark, dominant element, they become irresistible.
In my story, Saving Charlotte, our hero finds this gorgeous woman—the woman of his dreams, in fact—tied to a bed…in a burning building. After he saves her, he is incensed that her Dom left her untended. He aches to show her what a loving D/s relationship can be like.
Here is a taste. I hope you enjoy!
Excerpt from Sabrina York’s “Saving Charlotte”
Mark Conner fought his way through the smoke and flames to the third floor of the apartment building. A skitter of concern writhed in his gut. This fire was moving fast. Despite the nearly fifty pounds of equipment, he picked up the pace and motioned to Izzy to do the same.
According to the wailing mother on the street, there was a child still trapped up here.
Two doors flanked the top floor landing. Without discussion—they hardly needed it anymore—Izzy turned right and Mark turned left. In tandem, they kicked the doors in. Mark angled his flashlight and scanned the smoky living room. Nothing.
Smoke roiled around him; sweat prickled his brow. There wasn’t much time.
Then he heard a faint cry. He shouldered his way down the hall and into the bedroom…and froze.
A second was far too long to stare. Lives could be lost in a second. But the sight that greeted him nearly brought him to his knees. A sudden, inappropriate lust snarled through him. He forced it to the back of his mind. For later.
He’d expected a small child, coiled in a corner.
Not an exquisite angel bound to a bed.
And she was exquisite. Her skin was milky white and shimmered in the caress of his flashlight beam. She writhed and cried out and fought at the bonds holding her down. Her lush hair was a dark cloud against the pillow. And her face…it took his breath away.
Tears scored her cheeks. Panic limned her eyes. “Help me,” she said in a failing voice.
A loud pop brought him back to the moment. Yes, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen—and he’d seen plenty of naked women tied to a bed—but if he didn’t get her out of here, she was going to die.
He rushed to her side and examined her bonds. He knew instinctively there was no time to untie her. Instead he reached for the cutting tool clipped to his belt and quickly slashed the rope at her wrists and ankles. He wrapped her in the blanket and tossed her over his shoulder.
He met Izzy on the landing; his buddy held a small bundle in his arms. They nodded to each other and pounded, hell for leather, down the stairs. The building was weakening. Mark recognized the sounds, the feel of it. They had seconds to escape, if that.
They made it out—burst through the door in a hail of fire and smoke—but only just. As they emerged out onto the street, the building collapsed behind them. A loud cry went up amongst the firefighters and they all snapped into action, training their hoses on the structure. It was a lost cause but they could save the neighboring homes.
Mark ignored the cacophony. He carried his precious burden across the barricaded street to the paramedics. Luke was busy fitting an old woman with an oxygen mask and Samuel was wrapping a burn. Gently, Mark lowered the woman from his shoulder. He arranged her on a brick planter, being careful to keep her nakedness covered.
He pulled off his helmet, mask and hood and unstrapped his SCBA gear, wiped the sweat from his brow. “A-are you alright?” Something clogged his throat. Probably his unholy reaction to her ethereal beauty.
Hell and damnation. She’d nearly just died. How could he think about fucking her?
His cock was thinking about it. It was hard and heavy and tight.
She nodded. A lone tear tracked its way down her sooty cheek.
He forced himself to look away from her delicate, sculpted features, the hollowed cheeks, the wide doe-like eyes. Trembling lips. Instead, he directed his attention to her wrists and began undoing the knots. He bit back a curse. Whoever had tied her up was an idiot. For one thing, rope was bound far too tight. Even if she hadn’t been fighting for her life to get free, it would have cut into her skin. As it was, her wrists were raw, slick with blood.
“You should have this tended.” He didn’t mean to sound so gruff. It galled him to see a woman abused like this. He released her wrists and went to work on her ankles. It took a while, because the knots were an undisciplined mess.
Mark knew he was delaying the inevitable, avoiding the question he had to ask. He hated to embarrass her after all she’d been through, but duty was duty. Reluctantly, he met her gaze; it seared him. He cleared his throat. “Do I…would you like me to notify the police?”
Her eyes widened. Lips formed a silent “no”. She shook her head.
“You weren’t tied up against your will?”
Heat prickled his nerve endings when she lowered her lashes and shook her head.
Not against her will. Holy hell.
Mark glanced over his shoulder. The building was now a smoking relic. “Was he in the apartment?” He kind of hoped she’d say yes. She didn’t.
“No. He t-tied me up and left.”
Mark froze. His nostrils flared as outrage cut through him. What kind of Dom tied up a woman and left?
“He left you?”
“Yes.” Her voice was soft, sweet. Smoky. She studied her tender wrists for a moment then met his eyes. “He went to the bar for a drink with some friends. Said I was to ‘think about it’ while he was gone.”
What an ass.
Of course, no one would expect their house to catch fire while they were out gallivanting with friends, but leaving your trusting sub tied to the posters, exposed and vulnerable and completely alone was unconscionable.
“How long have you been with him?” He didn’t know why he asked. He was only torturing himself. She belonged to someone else.
“A year.” She swallowed. Mark watched her throat work. He knew a raging urge to taste it. Lick it. Suck on that soft, creamy flesh… “We’d never tried this before.”
A dismal curtain fell on his soul. He’d assumed, from her lowered gaze, her posture, her submissive mien, that she was deep in the life, that she lived it, breathed it, craved it like he did. If this disastrous outing was her first taste of bondage, she would never try it again.
It was a pity, a damn shame he hadn’t found her first.
He pitched his voice low, so no one else would hear. “For the record, a loving Dom never leaves his woman unprotected.” He couldn’t resist cupping her cheek, thumbing away the fresh tears that welled at his words. Couldn’t resist a whispered, “He doesn’t deserve you.”
She said nothing at that, but he could tell she’d heard him. Her expression took on a glow, a peace and—dare he hope it—a tinge of relief.
Luke finished up with his patient and collected his bag to come over. Mark knew it was time to release her. He didn’t want to. He wanted to hold her forever. But she wasn’t his.
Still, he couldn’t resist leaning closer, capturing her gaze and murmuring, “If you ever want to try this with someone who knows what he’s doing, someone who will honor your desire, come to Station 12. Ask for Mark Connor.”
All About Sabrina York
Sabrina is an award winning author of erotic romance with over a dozen titles available, ranging from sweet & sexy erotic romance to BDSM to erotic horror. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york or Facebook.
Other Books by Sabrina York
Dragonfly Kisses: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary)
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