Page 340 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

MAC

“You can keep the shirt on,” Georgia said, holding a wiggly little mutt. She wore the pink puffy jacket and even the cute hat I bought her, the one with the little pompom on top. The way the little guy was licking her face made me jealous.

Miranda, the photographer, stood beside her and looked through the camera lens, then fiddled with some buttons.

Thank fuck they’d wanted the engine parked behind the station so there was at least some privacy. I felt like a dumbass getting my photo taken and I didn’t need the crew on shift to be pestering me.

They would, too.

But I wasn’t the first who’d been photographed.

In fact, I was the last. Yeah, I’d put this shit off for as long as I could and I was the only one being a stubborn ass about this project.

Seeing the photos of the others made me feel better that I wasn’t going to be slicked up with cucumber wax and doing something sexual to a piece of fire equipment.

But I didn’t like to get my photo taken. I didn’t like to be the center of attention. And I definitely didn’t want to be in calendars on walls all around Hunter Valley for the next year. Hopefully, if I was Mr. January, they’d forget about me by February.

“I saw some of the photos last week, but did the others have their shirts on?” I asked.

“They did,” Georgia confirmed. She studied me. “You know, you don’t have to be in the calendar. I have a backup list I can–”

“No,” I said, holding up my hand. No way was I backing out of this. “I’m the fire chief. I have to be in it.”

“Right,” she said, sharing a look with Miranda. “Maybe we should have you hold a bowl of chili instead of the dog?”

Oh, the sass. I glared. She smiled.

“The other day, Smutters was talking about his bunker pants pushed down his hips like he was in Playgirl. The liar.” I’d seen his photos in the meeting and knew for a fact he was talking out his ass. I let him because ultimately, the calendar would prove him wrong.

Georgia rolled her eyes and gave the gray dog a scratch behind the ears. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. Yeah, doggie, I knew what her hands on me felt like.

“Remember, this is a PG calendar,” she promised. “Kids will see it. I promise you, there was nothing inappropriate in any of the other photos and won’t be with yours. That’s not what it’s about. Okay?”

I frowned but nodded. I had on my bunker pants with red suspenders and my navy HVFD t-shirt beneath. My bunker coat and chief helmet were tucked under my left arm.

She came over, handed me the little dog. “Here.”

I couldn’t help but smile when it licked my chin. “What’s her”–I held the dog up with my free arm and inspected its undercarriage–“his name?”

“Roscoe.”

“Why don’t you…” Georgia looked around and bit her lip. She was focused and thinking. “There. Go sit on the back.”

I went that way and Miranda followed. I heard the camera click but didn’t know why. I was walking away. How exciting was that?

I dropped onto the back running board, set my coat and helmet down beside me. I couldn’t feel the textured metal through my thick pants or that it was really cold. Sitting the dog next to me, I looked down at him.

Click.

My head whipped to Miranda and I glared.

“Don’t mind that look. He’s always grumpy,” Georgia told her. “You look like you’re really uncomfortable. Why is your back so straight?”

I gritted my teeth. “Because I don’t want to look slouchy.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Relax. This isn’t the DMV.”

Roscoe woofed and sat and posed for the camera like he was a natural. The little fucker.

I settled back onto the platform and tried to get comfortable.

Miranda took some photos, but it was weird.

This was weird.

Georgia came over. Stepped close. I wanted to wrap my hands around the backs of her thighs and pull her near so I could set my head against her soft tits, but I held off. Barely. I’d missed her last night. A few nights sleeping with her in my arms and I wasn’t only grumpy about the photo shoot.

“Remember the other night when you were watching me use my toy?” she whispered.

My head snapped up to look at her.

“What?” I said, instantly hard.

A glance at Miranda told me she wasn’t paying us any attention. She was fiddling with something on her camera.

“Remember?” she asked again.

I cleared my throat. “Yeah.”

“You sat in your reading chair and watched me on your bed. The look you had was what gave me the nerve to do it. The way you watched got me hot.”

“Yeah?” I was reduced to monosyllabic talk because watching her with her legs spread wide as she made herself come? Hottest fucking thing ever. Gone was the shy woman from that first night I got her bare.

She bit her lip and nodded. “Later, you can find out what color panties I’m wearing. For now, you’re going to sit there, look at me and wonder.”

With that, she stepped back. Then again. Her eyes held mine until I lowered them, taking in her jeans, sweater and thick coat. I couldn’t see her shape at all. But I knew what those tits looked like. What they felt like in my palms. I pictured it.

Click.

How swollen and slick she got from her toy so she was ready for me. How she tasted.

FUCK.

Click.

The dog nudged my hand, so I picked him up, set him on my thigh, all the while staring at Georgia.

Click.

Fuck, I was sweating, even though we were outside. The boots, the bunker pants. Looking at Georgia and imagining her in pink lace. No, black mesh so the panties didn’t do a thing to hide her pussy. Was she wearing a thong?

I grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and lifted it to wipe my face.

Click.

I glowered at Miranda. She was keeping me from tossing Georgia over my shoulder, carrying her to my office and locking us in again and showing her what I did with a bad girl for teasing me. At least my bunker pants hid my hard on. When I saw her next, she better be ready.

I had plans.