“And that, my sweet Miranda, is how you tie a square knot.”
A nervous giggle escaped her throat. “Very funny.”
“Now let me think,” he said softly. “Since you’re completely at my mercy, where shall I touch you first?”
She quivered at the thought, her body tingling with anticipation. “My br**sts?” she offered.
“Hush,” he said, and gave one outthrust breast a teasing slap that made her body jolt. “I get to decide, and it’s much more fun if you’re surprised.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
“It was a rhetorical question,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re all laid out and delicious, and I need to concentrate.”
“Fine, I’ll be quiet.” She liked this playful side of Dane. It gave her heart a funny little flip to hear his soft chuckle.
That’s just desire, she told herself. Nothing more.
His hands—rough with callus—skimmed along the soft flesh of her outstretched arms. She shivered at the feather-light touch moving along the inside of her arm and grazing back down until his fingers skimmed her collarbones.
“So pretty,” he said huskily. “Do you mind if I play with you tonight? Have all the control?”
Her n**ples 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 p**sy 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 br**sts together, forming a valley that his tongue slid between, his thumbs grazing her n**ples.
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 h*ps 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 n**ples 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 br**sts 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 br**sts 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 p**sy, and her h*ps flexed involuntarily with each touch.
“Such pretty br**sts,” 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 br**sts 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 br**sts 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 h*ps 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 n**ples 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 p**sy 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 h*ps and then dug into her buttocks as his tongue plunged between the damp folds of her p**sy 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 cl*t 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 p**sy 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 h*ps 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 began to flick against her cl*t 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 p**sy. 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 pr**um 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.