Ah, bravado. He recognized it well. He said nothing, simply continued to kiss the soft crease between thigh and pelvis, running his tongue along it in a way that made her body tremble. Then he placed one hand over the warmth of her mound, and she jumped slightly.
Her fingers clenched in his. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m jumpy tonight.”
“No worries,” he said, then brushed his fingers over the trim brown curls hiding her sex. He ran a finger over the edge of the lips, from the front all the way down to where it led into the deep well of her body, then ran his finger back up again. She was soaked, her sex slick and wet, and his fingertip was damp just from her wetness. The body shivers hadn’t stopped, and her fingers clenched his tightly—but when he looked up, she still had the soft look in her eyes. Good. “You have a lovely pussy, Miranda,” he said. “So soft and shy. Been waiting all day to kiss it.”
Her back arched slightly, as if anticipating the kiss, but he simply continued to run his finger over the seam of her sex, before dipping in a little farther and sliding through the slick wetness there. Her breath hissed out of her lungs, and when, again and again, he’d raise that skimming finger up to her clit, her hips would lift in need. He didn’t give her what she wanted, though—he’d flick over her skin and then sweep down to the warmth of her core, brushing his fingertip there as well.
She moaned. Her fingers twisted in his, clenching hard. “Please,” she breathed.
He slid a finger closer, rubbing in the slick wetness of the hood of her sex, circling close to her clit—close enough to torment but too far for her to get satisfaction from it. “Please what, Miranda?”
“Please touch me,” she breathed. “There.”
“Where?” he teased, his voice husky. “Tell me where you want me to put my fingers.”
Miranda arched, her mouth working silently. He watched her, his cock jumping in response every time she gasped. He continued to run his finger along the wetness, teasing and coaxing the words out of her. “On my clit, please.”
He slid a wet fingertip around her clit, circling it once, enjoying the gasping cry that it wrung out of Miranda. “Like that?”
“Oh God,” she moaned, her fingers clutching his hard. “Again.”
He decided to do one better. Taking one of her legs, he let go of her hand and pulled her leg over his shoulder. Then he did the same for the other leg, until he knelt with his face inches from that hot, wet pussy, and her legs were over his shoulders. “Want me to touch you again?” he murmured against that hot, damp flesh. His mouth watered, waiting to taste her.
She moaned a response, her fingers digging into the thin plastic blanket.
He’d take that as a yes. Leaning down, he nuzzled against her sex and then swept his tongue over her clit.
Her entire body tensed and she shuddered hard, her thighs clenching against his face. He could hear the blanket crinkling madly from her hands fisting in it.
He lifted his head to watch her. “Did you like that, Miranda?”
She gave a jerky nod, her hips quivering so close to his mouth.
“Tell me if you want more.”
Again, a jerky nod.
“Well?”
“Just fucking lick me, Dane,” she snarled at him.
“Absolutely,” he said in a low, pleased voice, and gave her another slow, sensual taste from the heated well of her sex all the way back up to her clit. Her legs trembled again, and her breath was coming in short, sharp pants. Excellent. His own cock was rock hard, his shorts painful against the hard length of him. Soon, he told himself. She was close. Not there yet, but closer. It was time to think about hockey again. He started to mentally run down penalties in his head. Icing. Boarding. High sticking.
She flexed underneath him, impatient.
He gave her another sweeping lick and then settled against her clit, slowly circling it with the tip of his tongue, coaxing it with teasing flicks before circling it again. Miranda’s entire body was tense with desire, and every time he licked, her entire body shivered and a small, breathy little cry erupted from her throat that drove him wild. He wanted to stop and ask her if she was enjoying herself, but making her think was off-limits. Dane swirled his tongue around her clit and sucked lightly, and he was rewarded with her sharp inhale. He increased his efforts, swirling his tongue around her clit faster and faster, brushing against the small button repeatedly as her cries increased.
Her hands fisted against his short hair and her hips bucked against his tongue. “Oh…like that,” she cried.
Hell yeah. He increased the attention, licking and sucking at her clit rapidly. She continued to whimper, her fingers desperately digging against his hair, scratching at his scalp as she tried to find purchase. After a few minutes, she began to push his head down and raise her hips against his tongue, her cries turning into short, sexy little pants that had no words, just whimpers. He increased the pressure, his next lick stroking hard against her clit, and then sucked hard, and then sucked again.
A startled cry erupted from her throat and she came, wetness on his lips and tongue as her entire body trembled and undulated underneath him, her legs clamped tightly around his shoulders, her breath whistling out of her lungs in a low, slow, deep cry that seemed to go on forever.
Holy fuck, that was sexy. She’d come so hard. How had she ever thought herself unable to come with a man? He gave her clit one last slow lick, and was rewarded with a long, shivering aftershock that quivered through her body. She was still up the mountaintop, still lost in pleasure. God. He started to think about penalties again. High sticking. Slashing. Spearing. Fuck, no, spearing made him think of how badly he needed his cock deep inside her—
“I…” She panted, her hands falling back to her breasts and she struggled to think of something to say. Her eyes were wide. “I…oh wow.”
He kissed the inside of her thigh, his own body tense with need. “Like that, did you?”
“That was incredible.” She stared up at him in surprise. “I mean, last night was really good but that one…wow.”
Her knee was close to his mouth and so pretty he reached out and kissed it, too. “That,” he told her, “was one. I promised you three.”
She licked her lips, the glazed expression returning to her face. “I…but…”
Dane slid a finger through her drenched sex again, enjoying her latest shudder of response. He slid the digit into the hot well of her pussy, noticing how she spasmed against his finger when he thrust. The low moan began to build back up in her throat again, a moan that he felt all the way down to his cock. Damn. He was so close to coming in his pants. He pressed his forehead against her belly, trying hard to get his body back under control again.
High sticking, he reminded himself. Icing. Hooking. Holding. Hand pass. Fuck it, why did all the penalties sound totally fucking dirty when he needed them to keep his mind off of sex? He forced himself to concentrate on teams, instead. Montreal Habs. Los Angeles Kings. Vancouver Canucks…
When he was safe from going over the edge again, he grasped her breast and teased the nipple, thrusting his other finger deeper into her wet pussy. She was hot and slick with need, and her moans turned quickly to gasps. He moved his mouth back down to her pussy, flicking his tongue against her clit in time with the thrust of his finger, and when she began to quiver hard, he added a second finger, twisting them and repeatedly thrusting them into her wet sex, mimicking the fucking he was dying to give her.
It didn’t take long for her to go over again. She started to tense under him, her muscles clenching as if she were preparing for the next orgasm, when suddenly her entire body stiffened and she sucked in a long, deep breath. Her pussy contracted—hard—against his fingers, and he smiled against her clit. He gave it one last, long lick.
“That’s two.”
She looked up at him, dazed, the look on her face utterly blissful. “Holy…shit.”
Damn. He loved her expression, the way she hid nothing. Dane let her legs slide do
wn to his sides, and he leaned forward and kissed her deeply, liking that her mouth was so soft and giving under his own. She was boneless with her orgasms, soft and sated and warm. He’d give her one more so she’d know he wasn’t full of shit…and because he wanted to hear that soft, throaty cry when she came a third time. He could listen to that sound forever.
He quickly divested himself of his shorts and underwear, releasing his cock, aching hard under the need to come deep inside her. Pre-cum covered the head, and it throbbed with need. His entire body throbbed with need.
Miranda’s gaze went to his cock and she reached for it, her fingertips brushing against the damp crown. “Can I—”
He hissed, dangerously close to spilling himself, and pulled her hand away. Icing. Icing. Had to think about icing. “Give me two seconds, Miranda, and you can have all of me that you want.” He pulled a condom out of his pocket and rolled it down his shaft quickly, then took a deep breath. He needed to pace himself if he was going to make her come again, and not bust as soon as he sank deep into her. Normally he had no trouble with control, but Miranda did something to his insides, where he lost all his macho swagger and became this addicted fool who lived to see her smile, to see that expression when she came…
Slow was the key here. Slow and steady.
He spread her legs wide, his hands caressing her soft, pale thighs and pushing them forward so that her feet were up in the air, her hips tilted at the perfect angle. With one hand on her thigh, the other guiding his cock, he fed the head of his cock into her tight, wet heat.
Miranda let out a cry, her hips bucking, trying to pull him in deeper. “Oh God.”
“Just hold still,” he told her, teeth gritting. She was clamping around him so tight. So hot and wet and so very tight. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he sank another inch into her, slowly. Carefully. One massive thrust and he’d lose it. Spill inside her and never give her that third orgasm.
With gritted teeth, he ignored Miranda’s breathless response and fed her several more inches, moving excruciatingly slowly. Icing. Icing. New Jersey Devils. Atlanta Thrashers. Wait, Atlanta was sold—
“So full,” she said, interrupting his wild internal monologue. “God, it feels—”
“Shh,” he told her, a hair trigger away from losing control. “Miranda, just hold on.”
She moaned underneath him and he felt her pussy flutter tight around his cock again.
His control snapped. He rocked forward and impaled himself in her to the hilt.
Her gasp as she arched underneath him was fucking beautiful. She gave a soft little whimper, lifting her knees and tucking her hands tight behind them to pull her legs close to her chest. Her posture pulled him deeper, her pussy tight and wet around him. He held still, on the verge of losing it, doing his damnedest to maintain control. After a moment, he pulled out, slowly, then buried himself to the hilt inside her again, the long sweeping stroke of his cock plunging deep inside her. Her gasp turned into a throaty moan, and her fingers clenched on his shoulders, nails digging in. Fuck, where had the Atlanta team moved to…
“Oh God,” she whispered, her eyes closed with the intensity of sensation. “So deep…”
Oh, fuck Atlanta. He pulled out and drove into her again, noticing that this time, she raised her hips to meet his thrust, and gave another trilling moan as he sank into the hot, tight depths. He drove into her again, and then again.
Each time, she rose to meet him. Her hips slammed against his, intense and powerful, as if he couldn’t get deep enough to satisfy her. He moved hard against her, pounding deep into her core, his hands moving to pin her hips to just the right place. He thrust hard, then circled his hips in a long, languid motion, hoping to hit the right spot.
Her eyes flew open and she gave a stuttering gasp, staring up at him. He felt her calves tense on his shoulders.
Bingo. G-spot.
He thrust again, repeating the motion, rolling his hips until he hit just the right spot and she clenched up against him again, trying desperately to raise her hips. His hands kept them firmly pinned in place, and he gave another sweeping, circling thrust. “Do you like that?”
Miranda’s lip quivered, and she began to say something, but at his next thrust, her words dissolved into a choked scream.
“What was that?” he teased between gritted teeth, about to come just from her reaction. So intense on her beautiful face. “I couldn’t hear you.”
Her hands suddenly clenched on his, her ankles digging into his shoulders. “Harder,” she gritted. “Please, Dane.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. He thrust again, rocking her backward on the crinkling blanket, and was rewarded with another stuttering gasp of delight. Again, and again, and then he was pumping into her repeatedly, her hips pinned against his thrusts, her choked cries echoing in the forest as he thrust into her over and over again.
A full-body tremble started and as he drove deep, he watched her arch again, her shoulders rising as she tensed, her mouth working in a silent scream of pleasure. Her pussy clenched and fluttered around him, hard. Miranda was coming again, and she was fucking beautiful in her abandon. He watched her, thrusting again—once, twice—her pussy spasming around him, milking him—until he couldn’t stand it any longer.
And then he went over the edge behind her, his own orgasm coming over him so hard and fierce that he growled, digging his fingers into her hips, his entire body tightening as if one single motion would shatter him. He came with a shout.
She gasped for breath repeatedly, as if there was not enough air in the forest to fill her lungs, her legs still in the air, ankles on his shoulders. He leaned heavily on her, still sunk deep into her body, and stared down at her with a panting grin of his own.
“That’s three,” he said smugly, and didn’t care how pleased his voice sounded.
Miranda laughed, soft and breathy. “You win.”
NINE
T
hey folded the crinkling plastic blanket, but it was obvious that it had been used roughly and wasn’t going back into the tiny pouch it had come from. “Maybe we could bury it,” Miranda suggested. They did at the base of a tree, and put a stone over it to mark the spot. Dane made a mental note to come back and get rid of the evidence once the trip was done. After it was buried and hidden, they walked back to the campsite, fingers linked as if they were both reluctant to lose the intimacy they’d formed. Dane knew he wasn’t ready for it to go away just yet.
When they could see the coals of the fire in the distance, Miranda tugged at his hand and gave him a wicked, satisfied smile. “We going to do this again tomorrow night?”
Sounded like a good idea to him. He was just about to respond when he heard the sound of a heavy log being dropped on the fire. It crackled in the distance and he froze. Someone was awake? Panic swept over him. They’d see him with Miranda and figure out that they’d been on a rendezvous in the woods. And if the clients found out, it’d get back to Colt and Grant.
He’d fuck up the business, and then his friends would hate him for dicking over the team. All over again. Just because he couldn’t keep his cock in his pants.
He dropped her hand, regret washing over him. “Miranda, we can’t do this again. Ever.”
She gave him an offended look. “What the f—”
He clapped a hand over her mouth and stared down at her, face grim. “There’s someone awake back at camp. I want you to wait ten minutes and then come back like you’ve just gone to the bathroom. Understand?”
She glared from under his hand, but nodded.
His own heart was thudding madly as he tucked in his shirt, pretending he’d just been on a bio break of his own, and reapproached camp.
Steve was up, the older man giving him a proud look. He pointed at the fire. “Got it going again.”
“So you did,” Dane said, his voice forced with casualness. “Thanks, man.”
“You seen Miranda anywhere?” Steve asked, his expression puzzled as he scanned the woods
.
“She was here when I left,” Dane lied. “Dinner did a number on me, though. Maybe it made her sick, too.”
As if that were her cue, Miranda came to the edge of camp, holding her stomach. She looked the part—her hair was disheveled, her face flushed, her clothing askew, breasts loose under her T-shirt. Of course, he knew the real reason why she looked so rough, but it suited his needs.
She glared at the two of them. “Good night.”
“Night,” Dane said softly and moved back to the bunk. His heart was still hammering. Would Steve suspect something?
But no, the older man puttered at the fire for a moment longer, then returned to the shelter. After a few tense moments, he began to snore.
They’d been so close to being found out. His entire life, fucked up in one glorious, well…fuck. That couldn’t happen.
He couldn’t touch Miranda again. Not until the class was over and done and no one thought of her as his student anymore. Playing around with her this week was just too dangerous.
But there was always after.
Next time she planned on a survival trip, she’d bring a comb, she thought grumpily as she dragged her long, tangled hair into a ponytail. And shampoo, she decided, and thought longingly of her shower back home. Maybe she’d invite Dane to come shower with her. She wouldn’t have minded soaping him up and exploring his body with her hands…great. She was still horny, even hours after the best night of her life, ever. It seemed that the more she had sex with Dane, the more she wanted to have sex with him. Not exactly conducive to a revenge plot.
She was the one who was supposed to hook him and make him dance to her tune, not the other way around.
“Let’s break camp,” Dane said, looking alert and utterly scrumptious this morning. There were no circles under his eyes, she noted sourly. “Miranda, put out the fire. Will, go refill the canteens. Pete, you help Steve take apart the shelters.”
Miranda knelt next to the fire and began to put together her fire bundle for the day—a task that she’d shown George how to do last night as part of their cross-training.
The Girl's Guide to (Man) Hunting Page 13