Mastering the Virgin Box Set Five: A BDSM Ménage Erotic Romance novel Chapter 31

James

Michael, pallid and sweating, won’t meet my eye. I could punch him and smile about it, and he knows it, but this isn’t the time.

With Charlotte on the penthouse floor of the building, flames taking hold somewhere below, and Michael’s instruction to her to remain where she is, it is only a matter of time before she is trapped beyond rescue.

Fucking idiot….

And because in our headlong rush from the apartment we both left without our phones, we have no way to contact her.

As my imagination cries havoc, I battle the terror for her that rises in me, unbidden, unwelcome….

Flames…

Heat….

Burning….

…. Smoke, choking fumes….

Trapped….

Jade….

Don’t panic….

…. You’re no good to her if you panic….

We sprint up a flight of stairs, the sound of heated, rushing air growing louder around us, a hot wind rising….

But as we climb only the second flight, firefighters, masked and uniformed are descending. Arms outstretched, blocking our path, “Get moving downward. The floor above here’s on fire. The whole building’s coming apart. You can’t go that way.”

I grab him by the arm. “There’s a woman trapped in the Penthouse.” I have to shout over the wailing of the baking wind as it begins to chimney upwards, feeding on its own heat. “We’re not sure she even knows yet that she’s trapped…”

He flashes eyes up the stairwell. All around and above are the sounds of crashing and collapse and the strained wheezing of metal and concrete under stress. “Talk while we move,” he yells, still descending and sweeping me and Michael with him.

As he runs he pulls out a radio, talking into it, pressing it against his ear to hear the reply over the chaos around us. His eyes flash to mine. “There’s helicopters coming in to help on the top floors. Can she get onto the roof?”

“Got a phone on you?”

Still running, the firefighter hands me a mobile, watching closely as I tap in Charlotte’s number….

It rings….

Come on…. Come on….

Pick up your fucking phone, Charlotte….

Then as I realise I have been speaking out loud, she answers. “Charlotte! Where are you?”

“Yes…. Master, we’re trapped…. We can’t get out.”

We?

But I don’t waste words wondering. “Get the hell out of there. Get out to the roof terrace. There’s helicopters being flown in….

“Right? Wonderful! Yes, I will. Beth’s with me. Richard sent her up here….

Richard sent her to you?

But I don’t have time to think about that. “Beth’s with her….” I say to Michael. “Richard sent her up there for safety.…” Then back to Charlotte, “Yes, we’ll catch up with you. If you see mine or Michael’s phones, bring them with you.”

We’re descending the open heart of the building now, the stairs separated from wide lobbies and public areas only by glass screens. Beyond the glass a black fume swirls and rises, the acrid scent of it seeping through cracks and corners, ready to choke and burn, snatching at our lungs as we sprint ever downward.