Sizzle (St. Martin Family Saga): Emergency Responders by Gina Watson Page A

body prepared for his penetration. As her body relaxed, she contracted and he was able to give her a few more inches. He knew how women’s bodies were made. He knew how to make them sing, and he knew when they weren’t able to take all of him. Eve showed none of the signs of not being able to take him, and he had yet to hit her cervix. He thought they might be a perfect fit. He slid into her fully and felt the deeply satisfying stretch of her body adjusting to his. She might be full, but she was writhing and bucking against him for more.
    He wanted to give her a few minutes to get used to him but when she started trying to pump her hips, he pulled most of the way out and pushed back in deep. It felt like heaven.
    He started a steady pumping. She met his thrusts with her hips, unsure at first but gaining in confidence as he continued. Even though he wasn’t much on talking women through sex, he thought he needed to say something. After all, she was quite young and inexperienced.
    “That’s it baby, take what you need.” And he would take what he needed.
    He lifted her legs to his shoulders. He kissed each thigh, and then he pistoned into her with repeated thrusts. Her heavy-lidded eyes met his and her fingers went into her mouth and she bit down and moaned.
    “Baby, scream if you want to. Let go.”
    His pace increased, and she gripped the sheets as her neck arched into a taut bow and she convulsed around him, screaming his name. The repeated fisting of her cunt around his cock had him exploding, and he swore his release went on longer than ever before.
    He lowered himself to her, resting his weight on his arms, breathing hard. He couldn’t move. He didn’t move. But even when he gained his breath, he wasn’t ready to let go—he couldn’t remember a time in the past when he basked in the postcoital effects of sex, but with her he was thoroughly enjoying himself. She stretched and yawned like a satisfied kitten, and her yellow curls spilled around her face, creating a halo. She smiled up at him as her gaze went down to the bed, giving her a demure appearance that had him hardening again. Shit. Better pull out.
    He picked up their clothes, placing hers across the bed. As he dressed he told her, “I have to go back to the fire station. You’ll be okay here, but I want to discuss some precautions.”
    She pulled her shorts up her legs and nodded. “Okay.” She kept her head down, avoiding his gaze.
    “For starters, you’ve got an arming station here on the wall.” He pointed to the keypad next to the light switch by the bedroom door. “It monitors for fire, open doors and windows, and breaking glass, and the motion sensors can be activated once you’re in bed for the night. The code is forty-five, ninety, thirty-three. Memorize it.”
    He said the numbers again, and she obediently repeated them in a soft voice.
    “I’ll want you to arm it when I leave.”
    She nodded.
    “Follow me.”
    She followed him to the front door. He picked up a steel rod that leaned against the wall.
    “I’ve secured the kitchen door and when I leave, I want you to place this bar here, like so.” He wedged the bar under the doorknob. It reached down to the floor. He kicked it until it was snug. He looked to Eve to ensure she was getting the setup. She nodded, still avoiding eye contact.
    “Follow me.”
    She followed him yet again, this time to his closet, from which he removed a black box. He fished a key out of his pocket and unlocked the box.
    “This is a Sig Sauer P380 nine millimeter.” He pulled the pistol from the box and flicked a switch on its side. “Red means shoot. I’ll teach you how to use it when we have more time, but right now all you need to know is you can pretty much point and shoot. There are fifteen rounds, but listen to me.” He lifted her head with his finger until her eyes met his. “If it comes to this, you need to know in your mind going in that you’re going to shoot to kill. If not, don’t go