The Girl's Guide to (Man)Hunting

by Jessica Clare

  “Some guy cut them off of me earlier,” she said, her voice husky.

  His hand skimmed past the curls of her sex and slipped between the folds of her pussy in a sudden move that had her gasping.

  “Down here?” he asked in a husky voice. “Is this where you’re burning? Because you’re certainly wet.” His fingers brushed against her clit and her body stiffened in a hot rush of desire. He rubbed the slick bud with his fingertips. “I’m starting to think you haven’t been bitten at all.”

  She clung to his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin as his hand flexed in her shorts, small gasps erupting from her throat. “You—you have me all figured out, it seems,” she managed to whisper, the whisper turning into a whimper as his clever fingers gave her clit another stroke. Her head tilted back and she leaned against the tree, her hips bucking against his hand. Oh my God. That was so good. If he could just keep touching her there—

  His hand started to pull away and she gave a small cry, her hand moving down to rest over his.

  “What are you playing at, Miranda?” he said low in her ear, his face pressing against her neck. He didn’t move his hand from her hot, wet sex, but his fingers had stopped their rubbing of that most delicious of spots.

  She could have wept in disappointment.

  He stared down at her, his gaze intense. “Is this some sort of trick?”

  “Trick? No,” she said, tilting her face toward his. “I’m just…I…”

  What could she tell him that he would possibly believe? The words froze in her mouth. His lips were inches away from hers and she longed to move her face closer to his, kiss him, feel that tongue stroke into her mouth in each conquering sweep. But his lips were firm and hard with anger. He wouldn’t kiss her back.

  “Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on? You’ve been after me ever since we laid eyes on each other, Miranda. And while I’m flattered, I have to wonder what your game is.”

  Shit. Well, okay, maybe she was being obvious—too obvious.

  She stared up at him, acutely aware of his hand still down her shorts. One nice squirm and she bet she could get his fingers to brush against her clit again—but how humiliating would that be? To try and get off against a man who wasn’t responding?

  So she took a deep breath and pulled her hand off of his, placing it on his T-shirt. That wasn’t much better—she could feel the finely corded ropes of muscle in his arms, and that made her think of his hand down her shorts all over again. She was getting wetter just thinking about it. “I…”

  His fingers twitched against her clit, a little prompting motion, and he leaned in toward her, pinning her between his hard body and the tree. “Well?”

  “I…um…” She stalled, thinking hard. Then she bit her lip and confessed the truth—or at least part of it. “I can’t have an orgasm.”

  That was clearly not the answer he’d been expecting. He frowned down at her, and then his fingers gave a little swirling motion against her clit, eliciting another shuddering gasp from her. “Really? Because you seem to be responding to my touch pretty well.”

  His voice has dipped husky again, and she could have celebrated. He was listening to what she had to say. She fought a surge of excitement.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders again and she gave a little trembling gasp when he slid a finger farther down, away from her clit. One thick digit brushed against the opening of her sex. Her knees threatened to collapse. “I can’t have an orgasm. With a man. In bed.”

  She was finding it hard to concentrate, his finger making small little circles against the opening of her sex, where she was wettest, tickling her in the most erotic fashion.

  He leaned even closer to her, her breasts pressing against his chest, and she lifted her face to his, startled to see his face looming so close that she could practically see beard stubble. His lips were close to her own. “Women, then?”

  “What? No.” Her hips rocked against his hand and she whimpered. It was so hard to concentrate.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…I can’t shut my brain off during sex. And when I heard you were back in town, I remembered…”

  “That night in the closet?” he said huskily. “Back at graduation?”

  She flinched, thinking of the camera.

  “I remember that,” he said in a low rumble, and his mouth dipped against her neck, pressing a light kiss there. “How my hand had been on you, just like this, and you came all over my fingers.”

  She shuddered at that, pleasure washing over her. “I remember that,” she murmured.

  “You didn’t have a problem coming apart in my arms then,” he said, and his finger slipped deep inside her, giving a gentle thrust.

  “I know,” she said, her breathing coming hard and fast. She wanted to lift her leg around his hips, to grind her hips against his hand, to do…something. But she was pinned between him and the tree. “But that was a long time ago. I’ve had—trouble—since then.”

  Trouble was putting it mildly. More like counting tiles on the ceiling while her boyfriend of the moment tried unsuccessfully to elicit a reaction from her.

  His mouth brushed against her throat again, and she could feel the hint of beard stubble scrape her skin. “So you want to try again? With me?”

  She nodded. “See if it’s me, or if it’s them.”

  Dane’s face lifted away from her neck and hovered an inch from her lips. “Miranda Hill,” he said in a low, husky voice. “You should definitely know that it’s them.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “It’s a definite yes.”

  And he kissed her again, his lips descending on her own parted ones, his tongue sliding into her mouth with a powerful thrust that his finger deep inside her mimicked. Her hips rocked with that, and she made a sound of need low in her throat.

  His tongue thrust again, in time with his finger, and she began to feel that slow, wonderful build that only seemed to come with her vibrator. Her mouth parted wider under his, and when his tongue stroked into her mouth again, her tongue caressed it, submitting to him, telling him how much she wanted him.

  He gave one last thrust of his finger into her sex and then broke off the kiss, staring down at her. His finger slid from her pussy and brushed her clit again, sending electric currents of desire racing through her. “I suppose heavy petting isn’t going to cut it?”

  “It might,” she admitted, clinging to him. She didn’t want his hands to move away from where they were, setting all her nerve endings aflame. “We can keep trying. I don’t mind.”

  Dane pressed another long, searing kiss to her mouth, and then his hand slid from her skin. She could have wept with disappointment at that.

  He chuckled at her reaction. “I’m not going anywhere just yet. Take your top off. I want to see those pretty breasts. I’ve been thinking about them nonstop all day.”

  The words sent a shiver of delight racing through her, and a dash of fear. There won’t be a camera here, she told herself, fighting the urge to check her surroundings. Dane wouldn’t have known that she was trying to seduce him, wouldn’t know to wire this area. It was all in her imagination.

  But her moves were mechanical and jerky as she gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, then tossed it on the ground. Her black bra cups stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin in the moonlight, and he groaned at the sight. His fingers brushed against the curve of her breast and she shuddered.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Miranda? We barely know each other anymore.”

  She gave a small, nervous laugh and slid her hands under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his rippled, taut muscles under her fingertips. “You should have thought of that before you had your hand in my shorts.”

  There was a flash of white in the darkness—his grin, she realized—and he pulled his shirt off, tossing it next to hers on the ground. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. She remembered Dane from high school—tall and rangy
with a wide triangle of too-lean shoulders, and a boyish chest. Nine years had changed that; he rippled with muscle now, his body thick with it. His chest was still almost hairless, and she saw a tattoo of a twisting playing card on one shoulder—the logo for the Las Vegas Flush, his old team. Her fingers brushed against it, then down his chest, exploring his body. Not an inch of fat anywhere. She supposed if she had to use a man for revenge, this was the best sort of specimen.

  “Do you approve?” he said, one palm moving to cup one of her breasts. “Been nine years since we saw each other with our tops off.”

  “It’s…acceptable,” she teased, her fingertips scraping over one taut nipple, and then she gasped when he used the same motion on her. “And what about me? Do I pass muster?”

  His fingers slid to her bra strap, easing it down her shoulder, and he kissed the bared flesh of her shoulder. “You are the sexiest thing I have seen in a long time.”

  That made the liquid heat surge back through her body again and she trembled a little, leaning in and sliding her hands to his waist when his kiss on her shoulder turned into his tongue dancing along her collarbone. Heat built and began to throb between her legs again, her sex getting wet with need once more.

  His hand reached behind her back and Dane unhooked her bra. Before she could squeak her surprise, his mouth captured her own again, and he kissed away any sound she might have made, the delicious stroke of his tongue hypnotizing her once more. This time, when she moved to lift a leg against his, he encouraged it, letting her slide over his braced thigh and straddle it. Her dark hair fell forward over her shoulders and she watched him, breathless, waiting to see what he thought of her breasts.

  He curled his fingers around one heavy globe and brushed his thumb against the nipple. “When we were in high school, I thought you had the most amazing breasts I had ever seen.” He stared down, seemingly fascinated as a nipple puckered against his touch, and then palmed the other one. “Hasn’t changed. Damn, Miranda. You are beautiful.”

  That sent a quiver of pleasure through her body and she rocked her hips against his thigh, lifting her arms to wrap around his neck and pull him in for a kiss again. She wanted to press her breasts against his chest, to feel her nipples against that hot wall of muscle.

  He didn’t release her breasts from his grasp, just continued to brush the peaks with his thumbs, turning them into twin points of heat as he kissed her, his tongue sweeping and stroking against her mouth. She had thought she’d be the aggressor in the encounter, but as soon as he’d realized what she wanted sexually, he’d become the dominant one…and she found it incredibly arousing.

  He leaned back a little, letting his mouth trail down her collarbone and working his way downward, pressing kisses against her skin, sliding down until he reached her breasts and his mouth flicked against one nipple. That brought a gasp of pleasure to her lips, and she arched against his thigh again, rubbing her sex against the hard angle of it.

  “Damn,” Dane swore against her skin, then pressed a kiss there. “You have the most amazing breasts. I could spend hours here.” But before she could tell him that was fine with her, he moved up and captured her mouth in another hot, short kiss. “Take your shorts off, Miranda. Now.”

  He took a step backward and she complied, undoing the laces that held her cargo shorts up and shimmying them down her thighs. She dropped them to the ground and stepped out of them, her hands going back to his clothing. Miranda slid her fingers to his fly.

  Dane groaned at that, letting her fingers dance along the zipper of his shorts, undoing it and helping him slide them down his legs. They were quickly followed by his boxers, and his cock was exposed. It was a nice specimen, she had to admit—no wonder Dane had been so popular with women. His cock was long and thick and utterly beautiful, with a large crown and just a hint of a curve to it where it jutted from his body.

  Definitely a lot larger than her last boyfriend’s, she realized with pleasure. She glanced down at his naked legs and noticed he still wore his hiking boots, just like she still wore her sneakers. “Should I take off my shoes?”

  “No,” he said, and when she reached for his cock, he wrapped her fingers in his and turned her around, until her back was resting against his chest. “Not tonight. The ground is wet.”

  “But—”

  His arms wrapped around her from behind and he nuzzled her neck again. “You’re thinking too much.” His hand trapped one breast, his other sliding to her sex as he pressed more kisses on her neck and shoulder.

  She forgot all about shoes.

  Then his fingers touched her clit again. She clung to his hands, riding his motions as he thrust against her bare backside, his fingers mimicking the rocking of his hips. His fingers slipped into her sex and thrust again. “You ready for this, Miranda? Ready for me?”

  “More than ready,” she breathed.

  “I can tell you are,” he said against her neck, his fingers thrusting into her pussy one last time. “You’re so wet you’re soaking.”

  She shivered at that, and didn’t protest when he moved away from her and bent to retrieve the first-aid kit. He pulled a box of condoms out and stared at it in surprise. “Fucking Brenna packed an entire box of condoms,” he rasped. “Don’t know if that’s just fucked-up or brilliant.” He ripped the box of condoms open and pulled one from the rest. He glanced back to her. “Put your hands on the tree.”

  Her hands rested on the bark of the tree and she glanced over her shoulder, watching him. He rolled on the condom and put his hands on her hips, pulling her backward a little. He nudged her knees apart until she was spread wide, her outstretched arms bracing against the tree for balance, her legs cocked open, her body bent over slightly.

  Miranda’s entire body tensed, waiting.

  Dane’s hips brushed against hers and she felt the head of his cock nudge against her sex, seeking entrance. She sucked in a breath, anticipating the hard slide of him into her body. Nothing happened for a long moment, and she was about to protest when she felt him sink in.

  She whimpered in response. She hadn’t had sex in a while and he felt…big.

  “So fucking tight,” he said in a low voice; his teeth gritted. “Feels so good.”

  Her fingers dug into the bark of the tree and she bit her lip, willing her body to relax. She flexed her hips, encouraging him to move, but Dane wouldn’t be rushed. He anchored her hips against his and gave a slight pump before withdrawing.

  She gave a whimper of distress at this, not liking the fact that he drew away. Her body was on fire with need, her blood throbbing in her veins, and she was so tempted to just reach down and start to play with her own clit so she could go over the edge that he’d been teasing away from her—

  With a swift motion, Dane thrust again, and she forgot what she was thinking. A deep push, and he rotated his hips slightly as he pressed deeper into her, this time not stopping until she’d taken all of him.

  She gave a low moan at the sensation of being filled—desire began to move through her faster, and she gave a little squirm, flexing her hips and encouraging him to fuck her.

  “Tell me what you want, Miranda,” he said in a low voice, leaning over her until he covered her, his stomach pressing against her back. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

  Her breath rasped in her throat, and she swallowed hard, her thighs quivering when he gave another small thrust, more of a tease than what she wanted. “I want you to fuck me,” she breathed.

  She was rewarded with a hard thrust, but then he stopped again.

  “Please, Dane,” she said, flexing her hips so she could slide along his cock. “I want you to fuck me harder. Faster.”

  Dane thrust again, and again, two sharp bolts that made her toes curl with pleasure. Then he slowed, pumping in and out, slow and methodical and so very good. The constant, steady motion of his body rocking into her own drove her utterly insane with need. He’d thrust, then pull back, then thrust again, all slow and unhurried, and
she raised her hips roughly against him, a wordless request. He seemed to realize that she needed something more. “Is this how you like it, Miranda? Or do you want it rougher?”

  “Rougher,” she breathed. “I need you to drive me crazy. Make me think of nothing but sex.”

  The next thrust was so hard she nearly bounced off her feet, and she gave a small cry and clung to the tree. “Oh God,” she said. “Like that. Yes.”

  He gave her another wild thrust, and then began to pound into her as hard as he could, ignoring all their playful games, and she could have cried out with delight. This was what she wanted and expected from her first encounter with Dane. For him to make love to her, rough and wild, forcing her to concentrate on the slam of his body against her own, the slap of his balls against her pussy as he thrust over and over again.

  She felt the familiar elusive heat building, and began to cry out softly with each successive thrust, until her cries came together so quickly that she was doing little more than keening her need into the forest, despite Dane’s halfhearted attempts to shush her.

  And still it wasn’t enough. She felt the build but couldn’t quite seem to find the edge. Couldn’t quite get there, even as he pumped harder and harder. Frustration began to make her building orgasm ebb, and she fought even harder to bring it back, but it was no good. “Dane,” she said, her voice sobbing the word. “I need…I can’t…”

  “I’ve got you,” he said against her ear, and she felt his hand slide between her legs, felt him stroke her clit. “Come for me.”

  He’d wait for her to come. The thought exploded in her mind at the same time as the orgasm did. She immediately shattered, an involuntary cry escaping her throat, her muscles locking in the onset of the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. He said something but she didn’t hear it, the blood roaring through her ears as he drove into her a few more times and came himself, his body stiffening behind hers.

  Miranda panted, still clutching the tree. She should turn around, give him a flirty look. Toss him an airy smile and thank him for proving a point for her. But she was so stunned in the aftermath of the orgasm that she was…well, she was just a little lost for words.