Forged (Missoula Smokejumpers Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  EBook Offer

  Forged

  Missoula Smokejumpers Book Three

  Piper Stone

  Blushing Books

  ©2017 by Blushing Books® and Piper Stone

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

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  977 Seminole Trail #233

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  The trademark Blushing Books®

  is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Piper Stone

  Forged

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-61258-533-8

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61258-576-5

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Contents

  What’s Inside

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Piper Stone

  Other Titles by Piper Stone

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  Blushing Books

  What’s Inside

  “I understand more than you know. Can you see yourself living the lifestyle?”

  Laney thought about his question. “I could. With the right man, one who adores me as I do him and someone I could trust implicitly.”

  “I hope you can learn to trust me one day.”

  His words, the way he said them weren’t just thrilling but an awakening of the woman inside. “I think I already do.”

  Leaning in, he cupped her chin and rubbed his thumb back and forth across the seam of her mouth. “You’re so beautiful.”

  She was tingling all over, her nipples aching, her pussy wet and in such need. Closing her eyes, she panted as his fingers caressed her face, her neck and shoulder. Goose bumps popped along her naked skin as he brushed the tip of a single finger down her arm. She could feel his hot breath skating across her face and neck, the sound strangled as if his desire was off the charts. She realized seconds later that he’d taken her glass out of her hand. When she opened her eyes, the flicking glow of the flames highlighted the flecks in his eyes, an opening to his very soul.

  His lips pursed, he eased his hand around to the back of her neck, gripping, his fingers digging in, and pulled her forward. Crushing her mouth, he thrust his tongue inside and tipped her back as he explored, tasting, his tongue moving back and forth.

  She gripped his arm and remained on edge, yet his hold, his very commanding needs began to unravel her pent-up fears, forcing excitement forward. Suddenly, she was surging with adrenaline, electricity shooting up the length of her spine.

  He slipped his hand under the hem of her dress, crawling his fingers up the outside of her thigh. The moment he wrapped his hand around her leg, he pulled her forward, forcing her leg to curl around his hip.

  As the kiss continued, passion swelled to the point she could barely breathe. She swept her arms around his neck, intertwining her fingers in his hair. No man had ever French kissed her with such intensity. She was tingling all over, her legs shaking to the point they were going numb.

  When he broke the hold, he kept his grip on the back of her neck and wrapped his hand around her long hair, tugging back her head. He growled as he lowered his lips to her neck, pressing kisses just under her ear. He whispered, the sound husky, “I want you, every inch of you.”

  A moan escaped her lips as he licked and nipped her skin. She fell into the moment, her body relaxing, her mind going to the places of ecstasy she’d only fantasized about. Panting, she kept her eyes closed as he moved his fingers to the bodice of her dress, dipping his fingers under the silky material. She wanted nothing more than to be touched, kissed all over and taken in any manner he desired.

  He pulled her other leg around his then cupped her breast, his fingers squeezing. “Your skin is so soft.”

  “Mmm…” There were no words to describe the sensations rocketing through every cell, her entire body. She was simply lost to the pleasure.

  Garcia kept her in an arc as he lowered down, using his teeth to tug the material down from her breast. He engulfed the lace of her bra covering her nipple into his mouth, sucking as he rubbed her leg, his fingers dancing over her skin. Every touch deliberate, he yanked her bra, revealing her nipple, then pinched the already hardened bud. “Everything about you is sensual.”

  The words continued to drive her into a heightened state of nirvana and her head lolled back, savoring the warmth of the fire on her back and neck, the hard pinch of his fingers. When he twisted her nipple, she let out a hushed moan. Pain mixed with pleasure in a way she’d only dreamt about.

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  Chapter 1

  Reburn: A fire that is declared out, then later rekindles

  Spot Fire: A fire started outside the main fire areas by flying sparks or embers.

  Zulies: Missoula Smokejumpers

  Shadows
. They call to me, their dark and ominous forms, swirling in a cloud of confusion. I’m lost in the haunted swarm. Fire. Dangerous but attractive, always hungry, always feeding. Looking into the belly of the beast, I’ve seen myself. And I’m terrified at the reasons…

  Garcia Puevos inhaled the frigid air, enjoying the early morning ride, the way his heart raced, his blood pumping through his veins. He glanced up at the mountains, majestic as their tips seemed absorbed by the swirling clouds. Gripping the reins, he wrapped his fingers around the thick leather, the slight hint of pain invigorating, a reminder that he was very much alive.

  “Damn, you’re on fire today,” Stoker called as he trotted close behind.

  You have no idea. “Get your ass in gear!” Garcia yelled over his shoulder as he hunkered over the horse and took off down the twisting path. “Come on, girl. Let’s show our friend what we can do.” He kept his knees against Beauty’s sides, allowing her full control as they maneuvered around the curve, coming dangerously close to the rocky precipice. He laughed as the wind whipped through her mane. He rounded another curve, cognizant of the rocks tumbling off the edge, falling several hundred feet. This was dead man’s curve, but he knew the terrain well, having spent hours riding Beauty at full speed. Just because he needed to soothe his raging beasts dwelling within.

  “Jesus Christ. You’re going to kill yourself!”

  Garcia grinned hearing Stoker’s exclamation. Stoker Hansen was his best friend, fellow smokejumper and the only man who knew him – at least to a point. “Thought you were a smokejumper. Fearless.” Issuing clicking sounds, Beauty responded, going at full speed as they galloped into a small clearing. Trees overhung the entire area, blanketing out the sun’s rays. The shadowed light was comforting.

  “Yeah, but not stupid.” Stoker caught him, tossing him a sideways glance before slapping his heel against his horse’s side. The black stallion took off, moving a full three lengths in front of Garcia.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” Garcia followed suit, leaning further over as Beauty took the lead, commanding the path, kicking up dust with her hooves. Inhaling, the crisp morning air filled his lungs. He was alive and on fire, ready to take on the world. Rounding a corner, he loped along the edge of the river, allowing Stoker to catch up. A hint of sun slipped past the foliage, forcing him to squint. He sat upright as he continued to slow the ride. Beauty snorted as she eased down, now trotting as she’d been trained.

  Stoker flanked his side and patted his horse. “What a ride. It’s been awhile.”

  “Yeah, I can tell. That woman of yours needs to let you get out more often.”

  “Watch that mouth of yours, buddy of mine.”

  “What an incredible day.” Garcia was jealous of Stoker’s relationship with the beautiful Jessica Dunn, although he’d never tell his friend anything of the sort. Stoker deserved the happiness he’d found. He held his breath, wondering if he’d ever find a woman he’d care to spend more than a few hours with.

  Chuckling, he trotted alongside as both men gazed out at the water. “Yeah, but something’s been on your mind lately.”

  “Why do you say that?” Garcia had insisted on the ride, dragging Stoker out of a warm bed and away from a roaring fire.

  “Let’s see. It’s just after eight on a Saturday morning and I haven’t seen you ride in almost a year.”

  He shrugged and leaned back, stretching his back. “Beauty and I’ve been out a lot lately. Riding keeps me focused.”

  “You sound like a man on a mission,” Stoker teased.

  “Something like that.” Garcia stopped the horse as they neared the shoreline. Water lapped across the rocks, creating miniature waves. The entire mountain range was blanketed in fresh snow, the peaks dipping into a bank of clouds. He’d spent more time riding over the last few months and perhaps he was on a self-imposed mission – figuring out what in the hell he was doing with his life. They remained quiet, both men lost in their own thoughts. “I have to ask you a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why did you become a smokejumper?”

  “You know why,” Stoker answered, a lilt in his voice. “Hell, you were right there with me the last time I signed up.” When Garcia didn’t respond, he continued. “Okay. If you’re serious. To save lives.”

  “That’s a product of our jobs, but that’s not the reason your soul required you to become a smokejumper.”

  “Required? Wow. You’re getting all philosophical on me. What’s going on?”

  Garcia kept his gaze pointed at the sky. “Nothing. Just thinking about things.” He’d been doing nothing but thinking over the last few months. Few aspects regarding his life seemed to make any sense at this point.

  “Uh-huh.” Stoker shifted on the horse. “Well, there were different reasons I joined each time.”

  “Important reasons.”

  “I like to think so. As a kid, I honestly always wanted to fight fires, even though my father wasn’t thrilled. Then a few years ago I had a chance to save a couple of dogs. They were in the river, swimming with their family. I heard a cry, a call for help. The river was raging, moving toward a waterfall and the drop would have killed them. So, I dove in. When I managed to save the two pups, something in me changed, shifting into a different level. I just knew in my gut that this was exactly what I was supposed to do. I never looked back after that.”

  “Until the war.” Garcia could see his best friend’s grip tighten, could sense the discomfort. He knew the basics regarding the time spent as a prisoner of war, but they never really talked about anything personal. They were good time friends, sharing laughter at the bar or discussions about women. He’d been the one to introduce Stoker to a domestic discipline lifestyle, sharing his experience with the Burnout group, smokejumpers who preferred an old-fashioned relationship, using discipline as a means of keeping the peace. He sniffed to keep from laughing. What in God’s name did he know about any kind of relationship? He was nothing but a faker.

  Stoker breathed out. “War changes a man. Doesn’t matter what branch of service or what occurred, every aspect is demanding. When the time spent is horrific, then you can no longer look at life the same way. I was a different man when I came back. You know damn good and well I almost lost myself in grief and self-pity.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more. I didn’t know what to do.” He wasn’t even certain he knew how to be a good friend.

  An awkward silence settled in.

  “Well, you were the one who bugged the shit out of me until I did rejoin. Remember, old buddy of mine?” This time, Stoker chuckled, yet his face remained pensive.

  “Someone had to get that stick out of your ass.” Beauty snorted and they both laughed. “Even my horse knows you.”

  “Yeah, at least a few people get me. Fighting fires helps control the anger. Saving lives is very important to me.”

  “But Jessica saved you from your demons.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Garcia could see Stoker’s head turn slowly, his eyes narrowing and his lips pursing. He’d crossed the line.

  “Yeah, she did. Maybe she even saved me from myself.”

  The words were haunting, a reminder that Garcia had forgotten about the true meaning of life, not that he ever really understood. For him, time seemed to be running out.

  “You seemed to want to become a smokejumper more than anything in the world. So, all’s fair. Why?”

  Garcia knew the question was coming, but in truth, he had no decent answer. The very concept had been nagging at him for months. “That, my friend, is for another time. We have riding to do. The path heads down the mountain and the river becomes shallow so we can cross there. Then, there’s this gorgeous field that goes on for miles. I’ll race you there.”

  Stoker grinned. “You’re on!”

  Giving his friend a head start, he leaned over, whispering into Beauty’s ear. “You know the way.”

  She reared back and whinnied before taking off, her long legs stretching out as
she raced down the narrow path. Garcia held on, his body rocking back and forth to match her stride. He whistled as he surpassed Stoker, now at least three lengths ahead. Beauty huffed but remained in her element, merely allowing Garcia to guide her.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” Stoker called, as he struggled to keep up.

  This was Garcia’s territory, every inch of the land known, every tree and rock formation. He held his breath as they neared the end of the swath of gravel then proceeded to ride out into the open field. Wind whipped around him, stinging his eyes but he pushed harder. They raced into a path of trees, Beauty jumping over every fallen limb, every patch of dense underbrush.

  Stoker was now only two lengths back, his riding skills equally matched to Garcia’s. Then the two men were racing head to head, both laughing as they broke out into another grassy area. He fell behind, an intense hiss coming from his throat.

  Garcia looked back, expecting Stoker to bolt ahead. When he saw the look of terror in the man’s eyes, he swung around. “Shit!” He slowed as he studied the swirling smoke, puffs of white mixing with gray. Then he noticed flames shooting up above the tree line. “I know this place. A rancher. He has livestock and lives alone. We have to help him.”

  “We’re not equipped.”

  “But we can get him out.” He heard the imploring tone of his voice.

  Nodding, Stoker lowered his body then pressed his heels against his horse.