Love In The Jungle

by Ann Walker

  “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he managed to get out between kisses, and I threw my head back with a moan in response. His lips wandered from mine to my jaw, then down my neck. His hands, those big, strong hands, roamed my body, pausing to pluck at my breasts through my shirt. He hesitated after brushing his parted mouth over my collarbone, my chest heaving with every gasp I drew. “Although, I guess I’d know if you weren’t interested…”

  “Shut up,” I whispered, half-dragging him toward me for another hungry kiss. Our lips parted on impact, tongues testing the waters by lightly brushing against one another. This was happening. I wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed one-night stands. I’d always thought they were impersonal—sex wasn’t fun when you didn’t know the other person’s body very well.

  But this was different. Every time he touched me, electricity shot through me. It was like we’d been lovers for years, our moves in sync and strangely coherent, coordinated even. I went for the bottom of his shirt just as he flicked open the button on my jeans. Our eyes met, and we both let out nervous chuckles.

  “Ladies first?”

  My eyebrows shot up, and I nodded down to his shirt, “Nope.”

  Grant rolled his eyes with a small smile, and I inhaled sharply as he drew his shirt over his head. I don’t know why I’m surprised that he’d totally ripped, but I guess a small part of me had hoped he wasn’t a total and utter god: he needed some flaws, but I could appreciate the abs for a night.

  I sat up and ran my hands over his abdomen, watching as he twitched under the touch.

  “Ticklish?” I asked, holding back my giggles as he danced out of reach. I lay there, propped up my elbows, my legs dangling over the edge of the bed, as Grant stood between my knees. He gave no answer to my question, but instead grabbed my pants and started tugging. I lifted my hips to help, and for once, I wasn’t shy about my nudity. Not even when he hooked a finger under the band of my underwear and dragged it down.

  Thank goodness I’d kept everything tidy. I hadn’t been expecting to be naked in front of anyone while on a volunteer trip, but at least I’d had to good sense to prepare. I yanked my shirt over my head, then unclipped the back of my bra. Both garments fell away, and a heated flush painted across my body, moving with Grant’s gaze. It wasn’t a leer. No, this was an appreciative study, as if he were a scholar examining fine art.

  It was strange that I felt so… valued.

  He crawled back over me, grinning, and I managed to push his trousers down as best I could with my limited reach. Our kiss was tender this time, gentle and unhurried, broken only when he nudged a finger into me. And then another. My body clenched, pleasure shooting out from my core as he worked me over. He was skilled with his hands, but I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less.

  I groaned, my hands digging into his shoulders, as I climbed nearer and nearer to that pleasurable crest, his fingers driving me crazy. Then, just before I could finish, he stopped. I let out a disappointed whimper and finally opened my eyes. He was in the process of shedding his pants, revealing toned thighs with light hair—and a prominent bulge that immediately caught my attention. I swallowed nervously. It had been a while since I’d been with anyone, and even with his boxers on, I knew he wasn’t an average-sized guy.

  “We don’t have to do anything else,” he told me as he fished his wallet out of his pants. I watched him grab a condom, holding it up between us. “I don’t want to be presumptuous about anything—”

  “Put that damn thing on before I rip it out of your hands,” I ordered, blushing at the way he smiled at me. I lay back, listening to the crinkling of the wrapper, and drew in a shallow breath when he climbed back on top of me. Then, before I had a chance to react, he grabbed my waist and rolled us over, setting me on top of him.

  From this position, I was in control. I reached back to rub him, my eyes widening at the girth. He licked his lips, a small groan slipping free when I squeezed. Not wanting to prolong either of our agonies, I lifted myself up and slowly slid down his entire length. There was no resistance: his fingers had given me a pretty solid warm-up. I moaned breathily, pleasurable jolts shooting through my body as he filled me.

  We took it slow at first. Gentle rocks. The occasional swirl of my hips. His hands resting on my waist—sometimes lower. But then it became too much, too difficult to go slowly. I started to ride him, one hand on his chest and the other running through my hair. He thrust up and into me, matching my pace, our mingled grunts and moans uncensored.

  It was probably pretty obvious what we were doing to our neighbors.

  And I didn’t care.

  Grant rolled us over one last time, my arms locked around him, and pounded into me until I cried out, a powerful orgasm tearing through me.

  Wow. Can’t say I’ve ever seen stars before with a guy, especially not with a guy who I’d only just met. Hell, it took some old boyfriends months before I even peaked when we were in bed together, and here Grant was, getting me off on the first try. Clearly I needed to invest some more time in engineers.

  He followed shortly after me, his hips stuttering against mine as he groaned into my mouth. I felt the way he flushed after, his heated skin pressed to mine. The hard kiss eased off, relaxing as we did, until we lay side by side, lazily kissing. Our hands roamed freely, and I didn’t feel the need to cover up or make a mad dash for the door.

  This was the best one-night stand I’d ever had, but I knew it was going to be my last one for six months. Why not make the most of it? Besides, once I left his room, we probably weren’t ever going to see each other again. I had no reason to be shy. Why tailor anything about myself for a guy who wouldn’t remember my name in a week’s time? In the past, it might have bothered me. The thought of a guy getting in my pants with no intention of committing to at least a little dating wasn’t something I hoped for, but what did it matter now?

  Tonight was a write-off. We’d go our separate ways, him leading his glamorous lifestyle with his high-flying career, and me to volunteer in rural Togo. That didn’t bother me. In fact, this was probably one of the few one-night stands in my life that I wouldn’t regret.

  Once we’d recovered, my hand wandered down his body, a mischievous look in my eye, and my kiss told him everything he’d want to know: I was ready for round two.

  Chapter Seven

  My eyes shot open as the phone next to my bed trilled shrilly. Blinking the sleep away, I rolled over and grabbed the thing, bringing the receiver to my ear.

  “Yes?” I sounded like a chain-smoking bullfrog.

  “Good morning, madam,” came a pleasant woman’s voice from the other end of the line. “This is your requested wake-up call. There will be an airport shuttle arriving at the front doors in one hour.”

  I cleared my throat, hoping to get some of the sleepiness out of my voice. Unfortunately, my words still sounded scraggly and hoarse as I said, “Okay, thank you very much.”

  “You are most welcome, madam. Have a pleasant morning.”

  She hung up before I could say anything else, but I figured that was probably for the best. Groaning, I closed my eyes tight and buried my head under my pillow. On the other side of my flimsy curtains, the sun was blaring, but all I wanted to do was sleep the rest of the day away. “Stupid engine problems.” I would have been wide awake and alert if we’d taken off last night, and I definitely wouldn’t arrive at the volunteer meet-up location looking haggard and worn.

  Showers and toothpaste fix all manner of morning-after sins, my mom had always said. I almost rolled my eyes at the thought, hating how her silly sayings actually had meaning here. This was the morning-after. I’d had a one-night stand with a sexy stranger, getting off three times—a new record—before we kissed goodbye at the door and I turned in for the night.

  I didn’t feel like Grant was kicking me out at the time, and as I slowly sat up and rubbed my sleep-crusted eyes, it felt like I’d made the right decision coming back to my own room. I mean, the
front desk woman would probably send someone up if I didn’t answer the alarm call, and I didn’t need the whole hotel to know I’d found a different room to spend the night in.

  Grant and I knew what last night was: a one-night stand and nothing more. We’d parted smiling, with no awkwardness or guilt. We’d had fun. He made me feel appreciated. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and I definitely hadn’t been the perfect lady. Considering it was probably the last time I’d be having sex for the next six months (possibly longer, who knows, given my lack of romantic prospects), I’d wanted to make the most of it.

  Three times. A personal best.

  I slunk out of bed with all the weight that jetlag brought resting on my shoulders. My lady parts were a little sore, but it was a good kind of ache, one that was immensely satisfying. Once standing upright with no intention of falling back under the covers, I sauntered to the bathroom and hopped in the shower.

  The brisk water managed to shock me out of my sleepy stupor. I yelped, instantly pummeled by a stream of frigid liquid, and cowered on the far side of the small shower until it warmed up a few degrees. When I realized it probably wasn’t going to reach a comfortable temperature, I jumped under and did a quick scrub of everything.

  I mean, I should probably get used to cold showers. Would the village even have running water? I stopped mid-shampoo rub, my eyebrows furrowing. Why hadn’t I asked that? Had the volunteer coordinator talked to me about this before?

  Whatever I shrugged, and continued to lather my hair up, fully aware that I’d already wasted some time lounging around in bed after the wake-up call. I could have probably grabbed a quick bite to eat downstairs, but I didn’t want to miss the shuttle. As I dried myself off and brushed my teeth, I mentally ran through the plan for the day. Instead of eating at the hotel, I’d buy a sandwich or something at the airport, all the while hoping I’d be fed well once I arrived at the village.

  After that, I had a quick flight to catch to Togo, then a drive with someone from the organization who would take me to my village. A panicky feeling descended on me as I got dressed. What if the driver just left me there? All alone, with no one to lean on… I bit the insides of my cheeks to distract myself from any stressful thinking. After all, I knew a long time ago what I was getting myself into. Some volunteers worked for two years, so I could probably guarantee there’d be someone else there who was also a stranger to the village.

  Well, I could hope. I straightened up once dressed, my hands on my hips. No. It shouldn’t matter. I was out here to grow as a person, and I couldn’t do that by falling back on familiarity. I’d done enough of that with Grant; it was time for the real adventure to begin.

  Dressed in a pair of knee-length khaki shorts and a dark green t-shirt; I pushed my feet into my worn running shoes. I did a quick sweep of the hotel room, then headed down to the main floor. After checking out at the front desk, I barely made it to the airport shuttle. I was joined by a few other overnight travelers. Some looked as sleepy as I did—one guy had his sweater over his face as he passed out on the window. Smirking, I settled in the seat behind him and took in whatever scenery I could get my eyes on, as the shuttle pulled away from the hotel.

  I took a deep breath…. now for the real adventure.

  ****

  Ugh. It seemed that no matter the time of day, the airport was always busy. I’d managed to get my bags checked in and ticket issued quickly enough, but getting through security was a slow, dragging process. Afterward, I found myself surrounded by people everywhere I went. All the bars were busy. The restaurants were full of families and singletons alike. Even the bookstore was lined with people, their backpacks knocking into one another as they navigated through the tiny aisles.

  I stood at the bookstore entrance, looking between the sea of people ahead of me, then thought better of venturing into the crowd. I had enough books to read. I mean, no one can ever have enough—or so they say—but I wanted something to pass the time. My fingers were itching to crack open a magazine for some light, easy reading at the boarding gate. Unfortunately, that was out of the question.

  Sighing, I turned on the spot and made my way toward the gate. I still had another forty minutes before we were set to board, but whenever a flight was concerned, I’d rather be unnecessarily early than cutting it desperately close. After all, I’d missed this flight yesterday because of mechanical problems—I wasn’t going to miss it again because I was running late.

  Halfway to the gate, I stopped, spotting something familiar in the crowd. Well, more like someone familiar. I couldn’t be sure, but as I squinted, I could have sworn I saw Grant making his way through the crowd. I mean, I couldn’t be sure because his back was to me, but the man I saw bore a strikingly similar physical appearance—from behind. Same brown hair and broad shoulders. I wondered, briefly, if I’d left any reminders of last night on his back, courtesy of my overeager nails. My cheeks flamed at the thought.

  I guess the thing that caught my attention more than his physique was the man’s style. While everyone around me, for the most part, seemed dressed for comfort, this guy had a pressed shirt on, plus a pair of designer sunglasses resting on his head. I, like the rest of the sensible people, looked like I was ready for a safari, and my running shoes had seen better days. Grant oozed style and sophistication, and this guy had a similar vibe. I have to admitI was instantly turned on.

  But of course, I blinked and he was gone. Lost in the crowd, my Grant lookalike wandered away at a brisk pace, eventually blending in with everyone else. I stood on my tiptoes, hoping to grab one last look, but that proved useless.

  Oh well, I had plenty of juicy mental images of Grant the Engineer to last me the whole six months away. I grinned. Oh yeah, definitely some good ones up there. Hand gripped tight around my backpack, I pushed onward. My gate loomed ahead, as did the beginning of a new chapter in life.

  Grant—and his lookalike—was a thing of the past. He was a transition piece, helping me break away from the old Clara until I found the new. Maybe I should have thanked him. I mean, I could have left a note under his door or something. Sent up breakfast room service, the food billed to me.

  But then again, the sex was probably thanks enough. I flushed again, grinning like an idiot until I made eye contact with a staring stranger. He returned the grin brightly, and when he seemed like he was headed toward me, I practically jogged the rest of the way to my gate, then locked myself in a nearby bathroom until I was sure he was gone.

  ****

  My eyes narrowed at the miniscule charter plane ahead of me. There had to be at least thirty or forty people waiting to board. How are we all supposed to fit in there? Did we sit on each other’s laps and pray for the best? I shot a glance back to the airport, standing on the tarmac with my hands clamped down on my backpack. After they’d checked all of our tickets, we were ushered outside with some of the ground staff to board, our plane too small to reach the usual airbus extenders.

  That should have been a sign. Maybe yesterday’s engine problems were a sign too. Maybe I should have just bought a ticket and headed back home.

  No. I let out a determined puff of air, and waited my ticket stub growing damp in my sweaty palm. This was the last part before the adventure, and I couldn’t chicken out now. When the guy in front of me moved forward, so did I, and soon enough, I was climbing the steep steps up to the plane. A smiling flight attendant greeted me, her uniform crisp and clean, her hair tied back, her hat slight off-center.

  “Enjoy the flight,” she told me, her heavily accented English music to my ears. I’d become a rarity since arriving in Ghana, though I shouldn’t have been surprised. I initially thought it’d be easy to find fluent linguists who instantly understood me and vice versa, but I guess I just had to realize that I wasn’t supposed to be in a comfortable, cushy position. This trip is not about having the comfort of home, it’s about helping other people.

  The plane seemed even smaller on the inside than it was on the outside. I bit the insid
e of my cheeks, ducking down a little to step into the seating area. There were two seats on either side of the aisle, and mine was at the back. I trudged along, pausing here and there to wait for people to get themselves settled, and only stopped completely when I spotted a familiar face.

  Grant. On my flight, sitting in an aisle seat with his pricey sunglasses on his head.

  Oh my god. He was the guy sleeping with his sweater over his face on the bus. I recognized his attire instantly. He was also the guy I’d spotted in the airport. It wasn’t a lookalike—it had been the real deal back in the terminal. His eyes wandered up slowly, absentmindedly, and stopped on my face. A look of panic flashed over his features, killing my smile before my lips could even twitch.

  Fine. Apparently this one-night stand hadn’t ended as warmly as I thought it did. I looked down my nose at him, then pushed onward when the guy in front of me slid into his seat. My heart hammered in my chest, but at least his presence had taken my mind off the size of the airplane. What was he even doing here?!

  I would have liked to ask, but I also wasn’t one of those women who couldn’t take a hint. If he didn’t want to see me, as evidenced by the shocked and panicked expression on his face, then I could handle that. I’m a grown-up.

  I didn’t feel much like a grown-up, when I tripped over a woman’s briefcase that was poking out into the aisle. I had to prevent myself from falling by grabbing the back of her seat. Her glare made my blood boil, but I bit my tongue and eased into the seat behind her. I was very happy that I had a window seat. Because, I wouldn’t be able to see Grant and I was two rows from the bathroom. I crossed my fingers that no one would be sitting next to me, then I found a book to read. The flight would be over in a flash, and then I’d be on the volunteer bus headed for rural Togo—and far away from him.

  Why was he so panicked? My brow furrowed at the thought, and I closed my book and stared out the window. We’d had a good time. We’d kissed before I left. I don’t get it.