Branded(50)

The faint light from outside allows me to see when she opens her eyes to look up at me.

“You win. You can have control during sex ANYTIME,” she mumbles in a sleepy voice.

I laugh, leaning down to press my lips to hers before backing away.

“And you, Fireball, also win. You can call me Drake anytime. Especially when you’re coming and giving me complete ownership of your pussy.”





The rushing panic that filled me when DJ first strapped me to the gurney disappeared as soon as he turned off the lights to the ambulance. I know I’m behaving like a fool, I know I need to just come clean with him, but I can’t. I want to keep up this illusion for as long as I can. I need to pretend like everything is fine or I’ll go insane.

I tried not to let the fear come out in my voice when I demanded that he turn off the lights. I forced myself to make it sound like I was just a controlling bitch and to keep the quiver in my throat from sneaking out.

I concentrated on how hot it was to be strapped down, unable to move my arms or slide my fingers through DJ’s hair. I closed my eyes and pushed everything out of my mind except for the feel of his mouth on me, bringing me to orgasm. Jesus, that man is talented. I’ve never come that fast in my life, not even with my own hand.

DJ unhooks the straps over my chest and arms and I shake out the soreness in them before wrapping them around his neck and pulling him down on top of me.

“Your fingers and tongue should come with a warning,” I tell him, running my hands through his hair and placing soft kisses on his lips and chin.

“You could always get me a t-shirt that says Champion Muff Diver,” he says with a laugh.

I squeeze chunks of his hair in my hands until he laughs and shouts in mercy.

“You are impossible,” I laugh right along with him.

DJ leans forward to kiss me, but I quickly turn my head to the side, breathing deeply.

“Do you smell that?”

He holds himself still, sniffing the air. “Is that smoke?”

I hear confusion in his voice as he pushes himself off me to look out the front windshield. I crane my neck back and we both see the source of the smell at the same time.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” he shouts, jumping off of the gurney to race up between the two front seats.

I scramble off the bed and look beyond him, my eyes widening in shock and fear.

Orange flames flicker through the front windshield of the ambulance, growing higher and higher with each second that passes.

“DJ! PHINA!”

We hear muffled shouts coming from outside and I move out of DJ’s way as he charges to the back of the ambulance and throws the door open. He immediately backs away when he sees more flames behind the truck, billowing towards the opening.

“GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR! IT’S ALL AROUND THE TRUCK!” Jackson shouts frantically from the other side of the wall of flames.

Climbing between the front seats, I look out the driver’s side window and sure enough, there is a circle of fire about six feet high surrounding us. I watch as the front doors of the fire house burst open and ten men come running outside, dragging a hose between them.

Making my way towards DJ, he wraps his arms around me and holds me close while we watch through the flickering flames as their blurry shapes shout orders and begin trying to contain the fire.

I can feel the heat from the fire coming in through the door and sweat drips down my neck and back. How long does it take for a fire like this to get to the gas tank and blow this entire thing with us inside?

“It’s going to be fine. They’re going to put out the fire and get us the fuck out of this thing,” DJ promises, rubbing his hands up and down my arms.

No sooner than those words leave his mouth, something that sounds like a shotgun going off thunders through the vehicle, making me jump and scream. The ambulance suddenly jerks to one side, causing DJ and I to lose our footing and topple sideways, slamming into the wall.

Men outside are shouting even louder now and I don’t realize I’m still screaming until DJ gathers me close, holding his hand against the back of my head and pressing my face into his shoulder.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby, it’s okay. It was just one of the tires blowing,” he tells me in a soothing voice.

The smell of burning rubber, gas and fire surrounds us and I squeeze my eyes closed and hold onto DJ for dear life, listening to the sound of the water from the hose spray against the outside of the vehicle. Hitting the steel body of the ambulance, I can almost make myself believe it’s just a soft, soothing rain that’s coming down outside instead of the only thing standing between us and death.

DJ and I stay wrapped in each other’s arms for the five longest minutes of my life before Jackson sticks his head into the back of the vehicle.