Page 29 of Nanny for the Firefighters

As steam builds, Marcus waves us in, and I finally let Ella stand, putting her feet on the dark blue tile and keeping my hands under her arms.

"Big, strong firemen," Ella teases as we step under the hot spray together. Marcus and his fancy manor have an enormous shower with dual showerheads, so it's easy for all five of us to fit inside, taking turns washing parts of her until her chuckle creates a contagious circle of laughter.

I get the honor of washing her hair, scrubbing in slow circles. Her hair is long and soft, if a little tangled from the constant rolling around and sets of fingers running through her curls. She lets me roll her head around to reach every crevice, and I block some of the spray with my back as I rinse her clean. Her soft moans are more than enticing, but when I'm finished, Ethan takes her from my arms to rub her shoulders.

Marcus is waiting for her with a fluffy white towel, which he wraps her up in and dries her with sweet efficiency. Enclosing her in a big, rich blue robe that must be his own, he escorts her stumbling feet out to the bed.

We all collapse in the oversized bed. The heat of the shower and slippery skin arouse me—and seemingly has the same effect on the rest of us. Ella stretches between us, and with a low chuckle, she glides her hands down Marcus's and my torsos, grabbing ahold of our stiffening cocks.

"One last round?" she suggests.

We give her a resounding yes, and I'm struck by the naughty twinkle in her dark eyes, those long lashes batting up at me as she strokes my shaft. The musky soap layers over her sweet scent as I lean in to kiss her shoulder. "How do you want us?"

"Mmm. I want someone's mouth on my pussy and a cock in my mouth." The way she lifts a challenging brow has saliva pooling under my tongue.

"I want to taste your sweet little honey pot." I don't hesitate, grabbing Ella by the ankle and dragging her down the bed until I've got her legs splayed across my back and her pussy under my mouth. I lay gentle kisses along her neatly trimmed sex until she squirms. I skip the tentative licks and spready her wide with my tongue.

Her moan is cut short as Marcus leans up and slips his cock between her lips. I grin as I lick up the moisture dripping from her, fingers kneading those soft brown thighs. I eat her for long minutes until she's writhing against my mouth and chin, using me for her gratification.

Give it all to me, Ella.

Every last drop.

When I come up for air, Will and Ethan are watching with molten heat in their eyes and hands stroking themselves. My hard-on is raging from the sight of her plump tits jiggling from the way her head bobs down Marcus's length.

I cannot get enough of this woman, so I crawl up her body, lifting her knees to spread her even wider and teasing her with the head of my shaft. This one last round—if it's anything like the last one—is going to be long and intense.

A shudder runs through me as I watch myself fill her to the brim, treasuring the way her cunt envelopes me.

14

ELLA

Eight years ago, life looked a lot different for me. Obviously, considering I wasn't surrounded by four gorgeous, naked firefighters.

Back then, I was only dating one man, a man I hoped to settle down with. I craved what I considered the essentials back then—a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, a good family car, and rooms we could fill with babies. I'd had a relatively normal childhood, and although my parents weren't incredibly rich, they provided for me, ensured I grew up surrounded by joy and love. I hoped to model that in my own family. Somehow, though, all the years of completely normal upbringing could not save me from landing in a relationship with an asshole.

Not that it started out that way.

Eight Years Ago

The IHOP booth creaked softly as I squeezed into the red vinyl. Sunlight streamed through the window, catching the syrup clinging to a fat stack of buttermilk pancakes like molten gold. My stomach rumbled in appreciation, the sweet aroma momentarily distracting me from the cold, hard fury simmering beneath my ribs.

Across from me, a plate boasted three perfectly crisp strips of bacon, each glistening with a sheen of grease that would make my cardiologist faint. I stabbed a forkful with a theatrical sigh, more for show than anything. My appetite had deserted me three days ago, the day the world decided to take a giant, steaming dump on my perfectly planned future.

"So," I mumbled around a mouthful of pancake, the fluffy dough momentarily silencing the storm brewing inside. "Did you catch that documentary last night?"

Mark, bless his oblivious heart, was busy drowning his hashbrowns in ketchup. "Documentary? Nah, babe. Baseball was on."

"The one about the… uh… love rat?" I pressed, the term sticking uncomfortably in my throat.

Mark finally looked up, a confused frown marring his usually sunny face. "Love rat? What love rat?"

Oh, Mark. So blissfully unaware of the emotional earthquake that had just leveled my life. "You know," I said, my voice tight, "the guy who, according to three very heartbroken women, wooed them with grand gestures, emptied their bank accounts, and then vanished into thin air, leaving them with nothing but a mountain of debt and a broken heart?"

Mark's frown deepened. "Sounds like a real jerk. But babe, why are you bringing this up?"

Because, you walking disaster of a boyfriend, that jerk happens to be you! The words burned on my tongue, but the thought of the fallout, of the tears and accusations from the other women, held me back. I couldn't bear to be the one to shatter their illusions.