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 p**sy 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 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 c*ck 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 h*ps tilted at the perfect angle. With one hand on her thigh, the other guiding his cock, he fed the head of his c*ck into her tight, wet heat.
Miranda let out a cry, her h*ps 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 p**sy flutter tight around his c*ck again.
His control snapped. He rocked forward and impaled himself in her to the hilt.
Her gasp as she arched underneath him was f**king 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 p**sy 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 c*ck 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, f**k Atlanta. He pulled out and drove into her again, noticing that this time, she raised her h*ps 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 h*ps 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 h*ps to just the right place. He thrust hard, then circled his h*ps 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 h*ps 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 h*ps 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 p**sy clenched and fluttered around him, hard. Miranda was coming again, and she was f**king beautiful in her abandon. He watched her, thrusting again—once, twice—her p**sy 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
They 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 f**k 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 c*ck 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, br**sts 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, f**ked 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.”