8. Chapter 3
Dashiell
Later that night
When we finally roll back into the station, we’re all exhausted and stinking of smoke.
It took forever to knock down the fire at the Diamante house, even with the help of other companies, and then we had to do the tedious overhaul tasks, moving through the house and making sure everything was really taken care of, that there weren’t any embers hiding away in the stucco, waiting to reignite.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I say, peeling off my reeking turnout gear.
“You need it, kid,” Vinnie says, shaking out his sweaty hair.
“Fuck off, you need it, too.”
The other firefighters ignore our jibes as we all hang up our gear and begin to disperse throughout the station, several of us headed to the locker rooms to get clean.
Vinnie winks at me. “You’re just saying that because you want me to join you in the showers, isn’t that right?”
“Vinnie,” Nick says from behind us as we push into the locker room. “Stop harassing Dash.”
We all start stripping and Vinnie rolls his eyes. “Aye-aye, Captain.”
None of us are precious about nudity, and we shower in the same open room, scrubbing the smoke from our skin and hair. I’ve gotten used to being naked in the same room as Vinnie and Nick and the others at this point, and I no longer have to turn away to hide an unwanted boner.
Sure, Vinnie and Nick are both hot as fuck (and, honestly, so are Charlie and Haden and Owen), but I no longer entertain fantasies of one or both of them forcing me to my knees in the shower and shoving their cocks in my mouth.
“You did good work back there, Dash,” Nick says, rubbing soap over his muscular torso, his heavy cock swinging a bit with the movement. Not that I’m looking. “You got that guy out all on your own. I’m proud.”
The praise warms me. I squirt shampoo into my hand and scrub my hands through my hair for the second time—I might need a third wash to get the stench of smoke out of my hair. “Just doing my job, Captain.”
Vinnie lathers his thighs and impressively hairy ass as he says, “I just wish we could’ve gotten his dad out of there, too.”
“He was already dead when we got there,” Nick says soberly. “We did everything we could.”
We finish washing ourselves in silence. All I can think about as I rinse myself off is Lorenzo Diamante’s face when he stared at me after I pulled him from his burning house.
The rage in his eyes.
The power.
You disobeyed me, he said.
I did—and though I was technically doing my job—the thought of disobeying him like that, and getting punished accordingly, thrills me.
Warmth gathers deep in my groin, and it’s time for me to get out of the shower, unless I want Nick and Vinnie to see me with an erection.
I quickly turn the water off, grab a towel, and go to my locker to get a fresh station uniform. I pull on a pair of black boxer briefs, then clean tactical pants and a dark blue T-shirt.
Grabbing my phone, I start to put it in my pocket, but then I pause, noticing a text on my lock screen.
Unknown number: I don’t like it when people disobey me.
My body flashes hot and cold at the same time, a prickling chill running from my neck to my groin. Hastily, I glance around the changing area. Nick is there, but his back is to me, giving me a full view of his firm ass—though it also means he can’t see what I’m doing.
With trembling thumbs, I type out a reply.
Me: Who is this?
But I think I know the answer to that question.
Unknown number: You know who this is. What am I going to do with you, boy? Most people who disobey me don’t live to see another day.
Logically, I know that I should be afraid. Lorenzo Diamante is texting me—because who else could this be?—and is basically threatening to kill me.
So why do I have to shift how I’m sitting to hide the way my tactical pants are suddenly bulging?
Me: How did you get this number?
Unknown number: You have no idea what I’m capable of. You should be very afraid.
I clench my jaw and my thighs, glaring at my phone screen. I’m alone in the locker room now, all the other guys having finished their showers. Joey and Haden usually shower in their bunk rooms, so I don’t have to worry about them coming in here.
Me: I saved your life, Lorenzo. You said you owe me a debt.
Unknown number: Ah, so you do know who this is. I thought you would. Maybe I owe you a debt, but that still doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t follow my orders.
I start typing out a furious response: Unlike everyone else in your life, I don’t work for you! But then, after another quick glance around the locker room, I delete the message and type a new one.
Me: And what will you do about the fact that I disobeyed you? Are you going to punish me?
Biting my lip, I watch the bubbles on my screen that indicate he’s typing a response. Slowly, I reach for my pants and massage myself through the fabric, squeezing my hardening cock.
It’s depraved, maybe, the way the thought of this mafia prince punishing me gets me so hard, but that’s who I am.
Unknown number: You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like to be punished.
My zipper opens easily and I slide my hand inside, grasping the warm length of my cock. I stroke myself with one hand while typing my response with the other.
Me: Why don’t you come find out?
What the fuck? I almost drop my phone, pulling my hand out of my pants. What am I thinking? Did I just invite Lorenzo Fucking Diamante to come punish me? I know that I’m a masochist, but how stupid am I?!
Unknown number: Ah, I knew I was right about you. And to think that I was originally texting you to warn you.
Me: Maybe I SHOULD have left you in the fire! And you never answered my question. How did you get my number?
Unknown number: I have my ways.
Me: You said you were texting me to warn me? What about?
Unknown number: Have you looked at the news?
Me: Like, on a TV? I’m twenty-two. I don’t watch the news.
He sends me a link to a local news site. I open it and see a blurry clip from the fire tonight, zooming in on me as I stagger out of the house with Lorenzo leaning on my shoulder.
A newscaster is saying, “A young firefighter, Dashiell Novak with Truck Company Twenty-Seven, saved the life of Lorenzo Diamante tonight during a house fire in Presidio Heights. The Diamante family has long been suspected of having ties to organized crime. Massimo Diamante, Lorenzo’s father, didn’t survive the fire tonight. ”
Unknown number: The world knows your name, Dashiell Novak. They know that you saved my life. I have enemies, and now you do, too.
Me: That’s your warning? What does that even mean?
Unknown number: That you need to watch your back, little boy. Or you might get hurt. And not just by me.
I can’t ignore the aching in my balls any longer. Casting my phone to the side, I rip my cock out of my pants and stroke it frantically, until suddenly I’m cumming, warm jets shooting from my cock and onto the hem of my uniform T-shirt.
Fuck. That was my only other clean T-shirt.
Quickly, I pull the shirt off and ball it up, tossing it into my locker. I’ll deal with that later. I have a button-down I can wear instead, though it isn’t as comfortable.
I have another message from Lorenzo.
Unknown number: You know who to call if you ever need help.
Furious at him for making me cum while I’m at work, I type back:
Me: I’d rather die than ever ask for your help.
I sit there for almost five minutes, waiting for him to respond, but he doesn’t.
Finally, I sigh, put my phone in my pocket, and change into my clean button-down.
Whatever the fuck just happened can’t happen again.
I have no business lusting after someone like him.
It’s inappropriate and dangerous, on so many levels.
Unfortunately, that’s exactly what makes me want it even more.