The Girl's Guide to (Man)Hunting (17 page)

“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 down 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.”

T

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.

“Are we going to switch camps every day until we leave?” asked Steve.

“Not every day,” Dane said. “But today, we have our first team-against-team challenge. The winners get a special treat and a special camp.”

“And the losers?” Pete said, always the pessimist. She hated to admit it, but she was really starting to dislike Pete.

“The losers get to find their own camp. I’ll leave that up to you guys, if you lose.” His voice sounded cheerfully confident. “But we’re not going to.”

“What sort of challenge?” Miranda asked, using a twig to roll one of the coals out onto the tinder bundle.

“You’ll see,” was all Dane said to them. “And you’re all competitive people, so I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Miranda didn’t say anything. Was she competitive? She didn’t really fit the mold of the average camper on this trip—she wasn’t looking to learn skills that would bring her ahead in the corporate world, or learn about teamwork. She was here…well, she was here to bag the trainer. She gave Dane a thoughtful look. He was ignoring her this morning. It seemed a little off, given the mind-blowing interlude from last night. Hell, she couldn’t stop thinking about it…or the fact that he’d turned her down flat afterward.

She’d known he was skittish but his rejection had still come
as a surprise. More than that, it made her determined. She was not going to go home with her tail tucked between her legs, wondering what might have been. Taking his rejection as the final word on things. Dane hadn’t been trying to hurt her last night. She knew that; she wasn’t being silly or emotional about this week. He was protecting his ass. She just needed to convince him that a week with her was far more enticing than a week without her.

It was time to change up her game. Perhaps she wasn’t being competitive enough. She began to think, devising a new game plan.

The team hiked for a short time once camp was broken—Miranda falling to the rear again. She didn’t mind. Not being in the midst of things gave her time to think, and she had a lot of thinking to do. Pete was chatty but she wasn’t all that interested, and her responses to him were short and noncommittal. After a while, he got the picture and stopped talking.

They entered a particularly rocky area, with a shale cliff off to one side. On the other side, atop the cliff, she could see an ATV trail, and she heard the sound of an engine in the distance. A flash of blue caught her eye as they ascended the ridge and as she watched, the blue team emerged from the woods a short distance away, led by Colt Waggoner.

For some reason, she wasn’t enthused to see them. Seeing Colt reminded her of what Dane had thought—that they’d set her up to flirt with him. That she’d been some sort of grand test that he’d failed. She frowned in his direction. If they didn’t trust that Dane was on the straight and narrow, they were going to ruin her plans to ruin him. If anyone was going to destroy his life, she
wanted to be the one to do it. Dane was going to be hers to make or break.

Strange how that thought left a bit of a sour taste in her mouth this morning.

She blamed it on the camping.

A purring engine revved and a bright red four-wheel ATV sped up the trail, dragging a wheeled cart behind it. A woman was perched on the ATV, her sunglasses masking her expression and her shoulder-length curls sprouting from underneath a cheerful, decal-covered helmet. Brenna the assistant, Miranda remembered, and disliked it even more when both Colt and Dane’s faces lit up at the sight of her. “Got your gear, boys,” Brenna called out. “One gun for each person on your team and a hundred rounds apiece.”

Guns? Rounds? This did not sound like a good idea.

Forgetting their team lineups, the groups splintered and gathered around the ATV as Dane and Colt began to dig through the equipment cart that Brenna had lugged up the trail. Sure enough, there was a stack of what looked like paint-splattered rifles in the back, along with some boxes.