The Girl's Guide to (Man)Hunting

by Jessica Clare

  Her nipples tightened at the thought. She swallowed hard. “I don’t mind.”

  A hand fisted in her hair, tugging her head backward, and the breath caught in her throat. “Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”

  Her breath coming in anxious little pants, she forced out a light, “I wouldn’t let you tie me to a tree if I did.”

  Dane laughed at that, and his mouth brushed hers. Her tongue slid out to caress his, but he was gone an instant later. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop. But I want to give you pleasure tonight. To drive you out of your mind with it.”

  Her entire body tightened in anticipation at the thought.

  “I’ve noticed a little something about you, Miranda. Whenever that brain of yours gets going, that body of yours stops enjoying. And I noticed that mind of yours working overtime this morning.” His finger brushed against a rock-hard nipple and she gasped in response, her entire body pulsing with need. “What were you thinking about?”

  She knew immediately what she’d been thinking about all day—Pete’s words to her about Dane and how he was using her. Of course, she couldn’t confess that. “I…I was thinking about what I needed to do to make sure that I could get the camp set up properly.”

  “Liar,” he whispered, and tweaked her nipple again.

  Desire shot through her and she groaned, her pussy clenching with need. “Please,” she panted.

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” His knuckles slid to the curve of her breast, rubbed the fabric covering them.

  A small cry of frustration escaped her throat and she twisted in the bonds, trying to angle her breast so his touch would graze her nipple. As soon as she did, though, he pulled away.

  “Bad girl,” he said in a husky voice that thrilled her to her core. “Tell me.”

  She licked her lips and was gratified by the sudden intake of his breath. “I was thinking about you,” she admitted, since that was part of the truth. “Thinking about how you had touched me and how it’s been three long days since we’ve been able to have sex. I was wondering if you’d come back to me tonight, or if I’d have to spend all night touching myself.”

  He gave a low groan of desire.

  Feeling bold at his reaction, even though she couldn’t see it, she licked her lips again and continued. “I was thinking about the hard, thick length of you deep inside me, pumping into me so hard that I can feel you slamming through my body—”

  He groaned and the hands were in her hair again, his mouth angling over hers in a thrusting, hard kiss of possession. Greedily, she sucked at his tongue. His hands stroked up and down her back and her hands fisted in the bonds, her core so wet she could feel the slickness between her clenched thighs.

  His mouth broke from hers and she gave a small whimper of distress, then felt his tongue graze along the column of her throat. She tilted her head back, enjoying the caress as his tongue trailed along the collarbones and back down to her bra. His hands plumped her breasts together, forming a valley that his tongue slid between, his thumbs grazing her nipples.

  Miranda groaned, arching her back into his touch. “My bra,” she panted. “Take it off. Please.”

  “You’re not the one that gets to decide,” he said, and his hands slid to the waistband of her shorts, tugging them down her legs. They fell to the ground, pooling around her ankles, and at his light touch, she lifted a foot, then the other, so he could remove them. She wiggled in place, longing for him to remove her thong next. She’d saved her sexiest one for that evening—lace with a saucy bow just above the cleft of her ass, the front a mere satin strip that covered nothing and teased everything.

  She’d worn them for him, saved them for this night. Miranda gave her hips a little wiggle. Did he like?

  His hands moved to her ass, clenching the rounded cheeks of her buttocks, and she quivered, waiting for him to spank her. Something.

  Instead, she felt his teeth graze one of her pebbled nipples and then bite it through the bra. A shuddering bolt of desire blasted through her, and she whimpered. “More.”

  “Does sexy little Miranda like having her breasts bitten?” he teased in a husky voice, and she felt him rub his chin against her breast, his stubble catching on the fabric. Then his fingers pushed her bra away, exposing her nipple, and his mouth was on it again, sucking hard at the tip and then giving it another tiny bite. At her quiver of pleasure, he flicked the other nipple with his fingers. Dane tugged her bra down, exposing both breasts to the air—and his touch. He teased one with his tongue, then licked it, over and over, as if he were a cat lapping at cream. His other hand brushed against the other nipple, teasing it to a hard, aching point. Each lick sent an erotic thrill straight to her pussy, and her hips flexed involuntarily with each touch.

  “Such pretty breasts,” Dane told her, then gave one a harder nip. She could tell he enjoyed seeing her gasp, because his laugh was a low, husky rumble. “Your breasts bounce when I startle you. Fucking love that.”

  She arched against his touch, her breath coming in hard, quick bursts when his mouth moved away and his fingers slowed. “Then keep touching me, if you like it so much.”

  He plumped her breasts again, his fingers working them, then bit at the nipple of one breast, then the other. “Do you like being tied up, Miranda? Like giving all your control to me?”

  She tugged at the ropes again, but he was right—she had no control. He could walk away and she’d be left here, topless, helpless—wet with need. The thought both excited her and terrified her. “I—I like it,” she said when he nipped at the peak of her breast again. “It’s just different. Scary. Exciting.”

  “You’re thinking again,” he said, and his mouth dipped to her belly button. “Time to put a stop to that.”

  And then she felt his hands slide to her hips and give a nudge that she should part her legs, and she got even wetter in anticipation.

  Tension coiled through her body as she waited for him to put his hands on her, his mouth on her. Prickles of anticipation made her nipples harden.

  Then she felt him. Fingers tugged her scrap of panties down her thighs and she wiggled to help them along. Then his hands—his thumbs—parted the slick heat of her pussy and she felt his tongue dip in and tease the wetness.

  Her breath sucked in.

  Again, the tiny insistent flick—no more than the tip of his tongue. But it drove her wild with need, every nerve on her body springing to life and crying out. His fingers gripped her hips and then dug into her buttocks as his tongue plunged between the damp folds of her pussy again, a long smooth stroke from her core all the way to her clit. When he reached that small hard button, he circled it with his tongue, hard and wet. Tiny gasps erupted from her throat. She needed…she needed…

  One hand lifted from her ass and slid between her legs. She felt the brush of fingers between her thighs a mere moment before a hard, thick finger glided into her heat.

  She whimpered. God, that felt so good. And God, it felt like not nearly enough. She bucked against his finger, crying out when he thrust it deep into her again, his tongue flicking against her clit in soft, teasing motions. Not fast or frantic, just slow and steady and making her pulse race with need and want. As if he had all the time in the world. As if he could sit there on the forest floor and lick her pussy for days on end, every stroke of his tongue slow and sensual as if the taste of her were a treat all its own. A fresh whimper rose in her throat at the mental image. “Oh, Dane,” she moaned when he gave her a particularly long, sensuous lick. The words came out as a breathless sigh. “I need…I…I need…”

  The words slipped from her brain with every stroke of his tongue, as if she couldn’t think while he tasted her. Her hips circled, trying to move his head to just the right place. She needed something. She was so close.

  The finger thrusting deep into her core suddenly felt thicker, harder, and she realized he’d slipped a second finger into her slick warmth. His tongue b
egan to flick against her clit faster, the same tiny stroke of his tongue over and over again. It was maddening and she felt the hot spiral of her orgasm begin to slip over her again, and her cries became more urgent, her arms pulling hard at the bonds over her head. The tree branch rattled and shook, raining leaves. She didn’t care. She was so close, her breath hot, panting gasps that ran into one another.

  Suddenly Dane’s mouth was gone, and his fingers slid from her pussy. A sound of dismay escaped her throat, and then she felt his mouth kiss a breast, her shoulder, and his fingers were on the rope knots. Her hands fell free, and she tugged the blindfold off, staring up at him in distress, her orgasm ebbing away as if it had never been. “I don’t understand. Why did you—”

  He leaned in and kissed her tenderly, then took her hand in his. “You were hurting yourself. I don’t want that.”

  She stared down at the rope burns on her wrists. They were reddened and chafed. “Oh. I didn’t even realize.”

  “I know,” he said with chagrin. “That’s one of the things I love about touching you, Miranda. It’s that you lose yourself when you’re in my arms. I just need to remember that. No more rope play for you.” His thumb brushed her cheek in a soft caress. “My fault.”

  She stared at him, uncomprehending, then slid a hand to his cock, hard and thick. Her finger glided over the pre-cum coating the crown. “We’re not stopping, are we?”

  “God no,” he groaned, and swept her up in his arms.

  Dane carried her the short distance to the shelter she’d made, and he laid her down on the freshly cut boughs she’d placed on the ground as a makeshift bed. No sooner had he laid her on her back than he was over her, and she heard the rip of the condom package. Then Dane’s weight was on her, pushing her thighs forward, and he was sinking hard and deep into her, a swift stroke that took her by surprise.

  Her delight emerged in a muffled shriek as her body surged back to life, remembering the orgasm that had been so close. Her calves tensed as he pushed down on her, her knees pressing against her breasts as he pulled back and stroked deep again and again. “So tight and hot,” he gritted, slamming deep into her again. “Dreamed of doing this to you for years.” Thrust. “Taking you in my arms and fucking the living daylights out of you.” Thrust. “Better than I ever thought it would be.”

  Her pussy clenched hard with every word, her moans turning into a soft, continuous cry. Every time he stroked, a hard pulse of pleasure washed through her, her entire body tightening until she felt as if she’d explode. It was like she was trapped in an endless orgasm—coming and coming—and yet with each hard thrust, he pushed her just a little higher.

  Then something shattered in her, and a broken little cry escaped her throat as her entire body pulsed, hard, and he bit out a curse at the same time. “Fuck yeah,” he growled. “Come for me, Miranda.”

  She did. Hard. And when her cries died down, he bit out another oath and got his own release. Then he collapsed on top of her, panting, his forehead damp with sweat. Her legs eased down to his sides and she wrapped them around him, easing her arms over his shoulders and clinging to him as her body quivered in aftershocks.

  That had been…intense. What he’d made her feel…there were no words. Or if there were, she didn’t know them. The way he’d been so intent on her pleasure made her blush just to think about. And she thought of the words he’d said as he’d fucked her deep and hard.

  Dreamed of doing this to you for years. Better than I ever thought it would be.

  He’d been thinking about her? Daydreaming about her? For years?

  And all this time, she’d hated his guts so bad she’d fuck a man just to ruin his life.

  Miranda didn’t like herself very much in that moment.

  Dane’s hand cupped her head and he turned her face toward him, kissing her lips softly. “Thank you,” he said in a husky voice.

  A knot formed in her throat and she closed her eyes, pretending to yawn. “For what?”

  He toyed with a lock of hair—damp with sweat—on her forehead. “For this. For this week. It was pretty much perfect. I…have to tell you something.”

  She stiffened under him. Oh God. What was he going to say? She couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t bear the thought of looking at him and seeing the truth. “Dane—”

  “Shh. I want to tell you.” His fingertips tucked the strand of hair in place and then glided along her cheekbone. “I had a…rough time when I left the NHL. A woman…she was responsible for me being fired. I turned her down and she made up a bunch of stories about me to the press.”

  A knot formed in her throat. So he’d been used and publicly humiliated? She didn’t know what to say. Did he want her to speak? Or was there more to tell? Hesitantly, she brushed her hand across his nape, stroking the soft skin there. It was a touch to comfort and encourage. To let him know she was there, and she was listening.

  “I hated her,” he said after a long moment, as if warring with himself. “I hated her so much, and felt so betrayed at the moment when I was the most vulnerable, and I thought…well. I thought I was going to give up women for a long, long time. Maybe forever. Because I couldn’t look into a woman’s face and not see that bitch glaring back at me.”

  She opened her eyes and continued to stroke his neck, waiting.

  He turned back to her, his eyes hooded. She met his gaze, and he searched her face, as if looking for something there. “But that was before this week. Before you. I haven’t touched a woman in over three years. Didn’t want to…until I saw you again, and realized what I wanted. And I wanted to say thank you. Like I said, this week was perfect.”

  He kissed the side of her mouth.

  She twitched under him, not saying anything. After a moment, he chuckled and rolled off her, then pulled her close, cuddling her. Miranda said nothing, simply closed her eyes and waited for more. He snuggled close, his breath in the curve of her neck, and his breathing grew deep and even. Sleeping.

  She couldn’t sleep. Her mind was freaking out.

  Dane had just confessed why he’d been kicked out of hockey. Someone else had done it to him. Casanova Croft was a fraud. He wasn’t a ladies’ man or a poon hound. Underneath the sexy, ultraconfident exterior was a man who’d apparently been thinking about nailing her for nine years, and who had been so hurt by a woman that he’d not had sex since being betrayed.

  The jerk had a soft side. A really big soft side. A vulnerable one that he’d launched straight in front of her bull’s-eye.

  And in that awful, wonderful, tender, horrific moment, Miranda realized two things.

  One—that she wasn’t going to be coldhearted enough to get her revenge on Dane Croft after all.

  And two—that she was still terribly, horribly, head over heels in love with the man and likely had been since high school.

  Well…fuck.

  THIRTEEN

  T

  he next morning dawned crisp and cool, though Miranda had been warm curled up next to Dane all night. They’d made love several more times before she’d fallen into an exhausted slumber in his arms. Part of her hadn’t expected him to stay at her side all night, but when she’d rolled over and yawned, he’d woken her up with a kiss. “Hey, gorgeous,” he’d said with a grin and a light smack to her ass.

  She given him a flustered smile back, but her mind was racing a million miles a minute. He hadn’t left her last night. They’d slept in each other’s arms. That felt like relationship material.

  Under no circumstances could she entertain a relationship with Dane. None. Zero.

  Preoccupied, she hadn’t minded when he’d kissed her forehead, dressed, and went about breaking down camp.

  She dressed just as quickly. “So…shouldn’t we be heading back?”

  A grin broke across his handsome face, and she felt her breath catch. Lord, he was easy on the eyes. She’d grown too used to seeing that face when she woke up. That’d change soon enough.

  “Right.” He belted his shorts and pul
led a piece of paper out of it and handed it to her. It was a small map with instructions. “When I met you yesterday, I was supposed to give you this.” He gave her a look that was part chagrin, part pleased with himself. “Looks like we forgot. You can follow this back to the main camp. I need to swing by and check on the others to make sure they broke down their campsites.”

  “Great,” she said with a bright smile. “I guess once I have things taken care of here, I’ll see you back at base camp.”

  His look immediately became troubled. “Miranda…”

  She moved toward him and couldn’t stop herself from plucking a pine needle off of his shirt and brushing it clean. Her hands lingered on his chest, thinking of last night and how good it had felt to be in his arms.

  “I’m not going to say anything to anyone,” she said softly, knowing that was his unspoken question. “It’s your job, and I know that if we exposed our secret, it could ruin you.”

  “Wrong,” he said, and tugged her closer, pulling her hips against his as if he wanted to drag her back to the remnants of camp and lie in bed for a few hours longer. He smiled down at her. “I’ve been thinking…”

  “Oh?” She forced a light smile to her face. Nothing good ever accompanied the words I’ve been thinking.

  “When I get back, I’m going to talk to the guys. Let them know about us. We shouldn’t have to hide what we did. I’m not ashamed.”

  She stared up at him. “What?”

  “I’m going to tell them about us,” he repeated patiently, and tugged at her hips as if it could drag her attention back to the conversation. “You and me…I want them to know about us. I just need some time to talk to the guys. Ease them into it. Leave it to me. I want them to know you’re mine, and we’re together.”

  Miranda smiled up at him, the pit of her stomach sick. “If you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure. Just leave it to me.” He reached down and touched the side of her neck, then pulled her in for a long, hard kiss. “See you back at camp.”