Five Firemen Carried Me Out, and Not One Will Put Me Down novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: The Tailboard
In the engine bay Gilles lifts her onto the tailboard, takes her with his mouth and then standing against the engine, and four men watch from the schoolhouse door.
He lifted me onto the tailboard of Engine 4 in one move, and my face came level with his.
The steel was freezing through Normand's shirt.
I did not care.
"Jo," Gilles said, very low.
"Say it again," I said.
"Jo."
I took two fistfuls of his beard and pulled his mouth down onto mine.
He tasted like coffee and cold air.
He made a sound in his chest, deep enough that I felt it through the tailboard, and then he kissed me back.
It was slow at first.
Then his mouth opened and he stepped between my knees, and there was nothing slow about it.
His hands came up my ribs.
They went all the way around me, thumbs meeting at my sternum, fingertips nearly touching at my spine.
"Look at you," he said against my mouth.
"I could hold you in two hands."
"Then hold me," I said.
He did.
He lifted me an inch off the steel and set me back down, and I laughed into his mouth.
"Don't test me," I said. "Take the shirt off."
He found the hem of Normand's flannel and pulled it up over my head.
I had nothing under it but a pair of bin sweatpants, rolled four times at the waist.
The bay was freezing and the work lamp hummed.
My skin went tight everywhere at once.
He stood back one step and looked.
My breasts are small, and my nipples were hard enough to hurt, and his eyes went over them and over my ribs and the line of my hips.
"God," he said. "Jo."
"Come here and touch them."
He put his palms over both breasts, and they covered me completely.
His thumbs found my nipples and rubbed, and my head fell back against the hose bed.
"There," I said. "Just like that."
"Tell me what you want."
"Your mouth," I said. "Everywhere you can reach."
He bent and took my left nipple between his lips.
His beard scratched me, rough and warm, and he sucked until I made a noise I had never made in my life.
He did the right one the same way.
One big hand held my back, and I felt the whole width of his palm.
I got my fingers in his hair and held on.
"Gilles," I said. "The pants."
He hooked his fingers in the waistband and drew the sweatpants down my legs, over my knees, off my wet-sock feet.
He dropped to his knees on the concrete, on his own coat.
His shoulders were so wide that when he pushed my thighs apart, my knees stopped well short of touching them.
I was open to him on the cold steel, shaking, with the lamp shining on me.
"Look at this," he said.
His voice was rough.
"You're so small here.
"You're perfect."
"Put your mouth on me," I said.
He kissed the inside of my thigh first, one side and then the other.
His beard dragged over my skin, and I jerked.
Then his tongue went up the center of me, slow and flat, and I heard myself say his name.
"Again."
He did it again.
He circled my clit with the tip of his tongue, lightly and then with more weight, and I put my heels on his back and pushed.
"Slower," I said. "Slower, there.
"Don't stop."
He did not stop.
He held my hips with both hands and kept me still on the tailboard while his mouth worked, steady and patient and so thorough that I started to shake.
I could hear it, wet and obscene in the empty bay.
"You taste like snow," he muttered.
"Shut up and keep going."
His tongue flattened and pressed, and one thick finger slid inside me.
I was tight around it, and it stretched me, and I cried out.
"That's one," he said.
"I want more."
"Not yet," he said, and curled it.
It touched a place inside me that took the strength out of my legs.
I came with my fist in his hair and his name in my mouth.
The orgasm rolled through me, hard and long, and he kept licking me through it until I pushed him off.
I was panting.
He sat back on his heels with his beard wet and looked up at me, stunned.
"Get up," I said.
He stood.
I slid down off the tailboard on shaking legs, and my feet hit the concrete.
The top of my head came to the middle of his chest.
I put both hands on his belt.
"Jo, you don't have to."
"I know," I said, and undid it.
I pushed his jeans down.
His cock came out thick and heavy and hard against his stomach, and I stared.
My hand could not close around it.
My thumb and middle finger did not meet.
"Gilles," I said. "That's a lot."
"I know.
"We'll stop."
"We won't.
"We'll go slow, and I'll tell you how."
I stroked him once from root to tip, and his whole body flinched.
I went down on my knees on his coat.
I licked the slick off the head of him, slowly, and he swore under his breath.
I opened my mouth as wide as it would go and took him in.
I could take the head and an inch more, and my jaw ached from the stretch.
"Jo," he said. "Jesus, Jo."
His hands came down and hovered over my hair, shaking, not touching.
"Put them on me," I said around him.
He put them on me, big palms cupping the back of my skull, and held me there without pushing.
I sucked until his thighs shook and the first salt of him hit my tongue.
Then I pulled off with a wet sound and looked up the whole length of him.
"Not like this," I said.
"Lift me back up."
He lifted me onto the tailboard.
I spread my knees and pulled him in by the shirt.
He put the head of his cock against me, and I felt how big he was before he even moved.
"Hold," I said.
I said it flat and quiet.
He stopped.
Every muscle in his arms and chest stopped.
"Don't move," I said.
I reached down and guided him, and let him in an inch.
It stung.
It was thick and blunt and hot, and it opened me wide.
I breathed out and let it.
"More," I said.
He pushed in another inch, slowly, with his jaw clenched.
I dug my nails into his shoulders.
"Hold."
He held, shaking.
I wanted to cry from how full I was, and I did not want it to stop.
"Tell me," he said hoarsely. "Tell me when."
"Now."
He slid the rest of the way in, one long deep slide, until his hips were against mine.
I cried out.
I was full to the end, tight and stretched around him, with him pulsing inside me.
"Oh my God," I said. "Oh, you're so big."
"Too much?"
"No.
"Move."
He pulled back and thrust in, slow and deep, and every inch of me felt it.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on.
He fucked me like that against the hose bed, steady and heavy, with his forehead against mine.
His breath came out ragged.
"You feel so good," he said.
"Christ, Jo, you're so tight."
"Harder."
He gave me harder.
The tailboard rang under us.
I felt him hit the deepest part of me every time, a hot bright ache that built and built.
I came on the tailboard with my nails in his shoulders, one hard clean pulse that shut my eyes.
He kept moving through it, slow and deep, and I gripped him each time he drew back.
"Change," I said.
He stopped at once and slid out of me, and I felt the loss of him everywhere.
I turned on the steel and went down on my hands and knees on the folded hose.
The canvas was rough and cold under my palms.
I looked back over my shoulder.
"Come behind me," I said.
He stepped up to the edge of the tailboard, and it came level with his hips.
He laid one hand flat on the small of my back.
It covered me from my shoulder blades to my tailbone.
"God, look at you," he said.
"I can cover your whole back with one hand."
"Then use the other one."
He took my hip, and his thumb and fingers met around my waist.
He fitted the head of his cock against me from behind, and I pushed back to meet it.
"Hold," I said.
He held.
I rocked back an inch and took more of him, and then another inch, and I heard him groan above me.
The angle was different.
He went deeper, and the thick drag of him rubbed a place high in the front of me that made me gasp into the canvas.
"There," I said.
"Stay on that."
He slid his hand from my back to my lower belly and pressed.
"I can feel myself," he said, awed.
"Right here, through you."
I looked down between my arms at his big hand spread over my stomach.
I clenched, and he swore.
"Fuck me," I said.
"Fuck me like that, Gilles."
He did.
He braced his boots and took me in long hard strokes, one hand on my belly and one hauling my hips back onto him.
The hose bed shifted under my knees.
The chrome of the engine gave the two of us back, his huge shape bent over my small one.
I came a second time with my face in the canvas, a deep hard clutch that went on and on, and he said my name through his teeth.
"Up," I said, when I could.
"Lift me up."
He slid out, took me under the arms and swung me into his chest.
My legs went around his waist, and he held me there with his forearms under my thighs.
My feet left the steel.
He pressed my back against the cold chrome door of the compartment, with my legs open around his waist and my arms around his neck.
All of my weight was on his forearms, and he did not strain.
"I've got you," he said.
"I know you do."
"I'm not going to drop you."
"Don't you dare.
"Fuck me like that."
He did.
He took me standing, hard and deep, with his hands under my ass.
The slap of our bodies echoed off the bay walls.
I could feel him in my belly.
I put a hand down between us and rubbed my clit in quick tight circles.
"Gilles," I said.
"Gilles, I'm going to."
"Come," he said.
"Come for me, Jo."
I came a third time, harder than either of the others, with a cry that went up into the rafters.
I clenched around him in long rippling pulses, and his rhythm broke.
"Oh, fuck," he said.
"Jo, I'm.
"I can't."
"Inside me," I said.
"I'm on the shot.
"Do it."
He groaned and drove in as far as he could go, and I felt him come, hot and heavy and pulsing deep inside me.
He shook against me for a long time.
Neither of us moved.
The engine heater ticked in the dark.
"Don't put me down," I whispered.
"I wasn't going to."
He held me against the door, still inside me, with his face in my neck.
I felt his chest heave.
"I've picked people up off the snow for nine years," he said.
"Nobody ever asked me to."
I held him tighter.
"I'm asking."
He turned his head and kissed the side of my mouth, very gently.
Then I opened my eyes over his shoulder.
The schoolhouse door across the yard was open, and the light was on.
Four men stood in it with mugs of coffee in their hands.
Gilles felt me go still.
He started to turn his back to shield me.
"Don't," I said.
He stopped.
I looked at them across the frozen yard, one at a time, and I did not cover myself.
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