Out Run the Night

by Leah Ashton

  Damon led them to a group of larger mulga trees near the lake’s edge, their branches stretching to create enough shade for the two of them, and their trunks obscuring them somewhat from a distance.

  Once there, he dumped his backpack, and together, he and Beth sank to the ground. In silence, he gave her a protein bar, and they both ignored the rumblings of their stomachs as they ate.

  He hadn’t realised he was yawning until Beth spoke. “You should sleep,” she said. “You’ve been awake for …” Her forehead crinkled as she did the maths. “What time did you wake up on Friday?”

  “Six-ish,” he said.

  “So about forty-eight hours. You definitely need to sleep. You can’t be a super spy if you’re sleepy.”

  This was true.

  For him, to sleep was risky, but fatigue had its own significant dangers. She was right. He should sleep while he could.

  He opened up the backpack and retrieved the second Glock he’d sourced from the house, and loaded it. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.

  She shook her head. “Oh, no. I’ll just wake you if I hear or see anything.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know about super spies, but I take at least a few seconds to wake up, and they’re seconds we might not have. If you want me to have a sleep, let me show you how this firearm works.”

  Reluctantly, she nodded, and he gave her a brief lesson on using the Glock. Despite her grudging acceptance of the firearm, she paid studious attention as he spoke, and paraphrased nearly everything he told her back to him, to make sure she understood. Obviously, he’d prefer her to have actually fired the gun before, but given that wasn’t possible, this would do.

  “The plane will be out soon,” Damon said, as he attempted to make himself comfortable on the hard ground, the backpack as his pillow. “Make sure you stay beneath the branches of these trees, so they can’t see us. They won’t have anything fancy like E-SWAT has – no body heat sensors or anything. They’ll be relying on sight only, so if we stay still, we’ll be invisible. They may not even search this far from the driveway, but we need to be cautious.”

  “I can do that,” she said with a sharp nod. “But please, sleep.”

  He grinned at her pushiness. “So I can wake up a refreshed super spy?”

  “No,” she said. “So I can have a sleep after you.”

  That made him laugh as he laid his head on the backpack – and moments later, he was fast asleep.

  The plane flew over about thirty minutes after Damon fell asleep. Beth had sat, frozen, as she’d heard it approach, barely able to breathe.

  When it passed overhead and nothing happened, her shoulders sagged in relief – until she realised that it wasn’t like a helicopter – a plane couldn’t hover in one spot after it spotted something, or someone. For all she knew, they had been seen. This led to about ten very, very tense minutes, while she waited for the plane to circle back to confirm their location. But it didn’t do that, and as she watched it fly repeating loops in the distance she eventually decided that if they had been seen, the Notechi wouldn’t have kept on searching - and she allowed herself to relax.

  Damon slept soundly on the ground beside her. He was a back sleeper, and he’d curled one arm over his head, and the other was flung out to the side. She realised now that his Glock tutelage had been wise, as he was totally zonked out. He was not going to be able to leap to his feet and save her should she wake him up – at least, not instantaneously. Give him a second or two and he would – but for those few seconds, she’d be on her own. And so the Glock – which rested just inside her reach beside her – was actually quite reassuring now she had some idea how to use it.

  The temperature was rapidly increasing as the sun inched upwards, and it wasn’t long until perspiration was prickling beneath her clothing. First, she kicked off her stolen, butchered sneakers, and then she unbuttoned her black blouse, carefully keeping an eye on Damon as she did so – although like when she put on her shorts yesterday, she couldn’t really explain her shyness. He’d touched her breasts, he’d made her come. Surely seeing a peek of her bra now was insignificant?

  But Damon barely stirred, and as the temperature soared and she became increasingly uncomfortable, the idiocy of being concerned more about modesty than comfort seemed even more obvious. Flapping her open blouse in an attempt to cool herself was useless, particularly as it was grimy and dried with sweat. With one last look at Damon – and a stern talking to herself for being such a prude – she shucked off her shirt and her shorts, and after checking that the plane wasn’t in the sky, crept down to the water’s edge in her underwear to wash her clothes.

  The water was cool and clearer than she’d expected, and after she’d taken her clothes back under the canopy of the mulgas to dry, she returned to wash her face and to splash her toes in the lake.

  The water felt incredible on her skin, and soon she was taking big handfuls of water and pouring it down her body, feeling all the sweat and grime of the past thirty-six hours wash away. It felt amazing. So amazing that she couldn’t resist crouching down in the water. And while she wasn’t game enough to go for a swim (there might not be crocodiles in this part of Western Australia, but there were a lot of snakes), she did dunk her whole body beneath the water. She pulled out her hair elastic and finger-combed her soaking hair, pushing it back from her face, and then attempted to wash off any of Friday’s makeup that may still remain.

  Then, still in her knickers and bra, she turned to walk back to the trees.

  But standing in her way was Damon.

  “Beth …” he began, but then went silent.

  His gaze consumed her, working its way from her pink-painted toenails, past her legs and knees decorated with hiking bumps and spinifex scratches, then up to the roundness of her hips, the curve of her belly, and the swell of her breasts. Her sexy white underwear that she’d chosen to put on what felt like forever ago, was sheer and lacy, and she knew without looking that it would be practically transparent.

  But she didn’t care.

  And wasn’t that weird? But she didn’t feel shy any longer, when she’d been so self-conscious of her naked self in front of men – even her ex-husband – her entire life.

  It was in the way that Damon was looking at her, she realised. For all his talk of fucking before, the way he looked at her now was not about that. This was … reverent. As if he was in awe of her – her.

  And she didn’t even question it. Didn’t even question why he would be in awe of Bethwyn Banfield. She just accepted it, because it was so obviously, unmistakably true.

  She swallowed.

  “Want to join me?” she asked. It seemed the only possible thing she could say.

  He didn’t bother to reply, instead he yanked off his T-shirt, his boots, his shorts, and then, in only his navy-blue boxer briefs, he paused.

  “These too?” he said, gesturing at his underwear.

  And that was so obviously a question he was asking for her – because Damon Nyhuis didn’t have a shy bone in his body – that her heart did a dramatic flip-flop. But before she could worry about that and what it might mean – she simply nodded.

  Then, he was naked in the ankle-deep shallows, in front of her.

  He ducked down, splashing his face and body, water pouring in rivulets over the wide plane of his muscular back before he stood before her again, his hair now also pushed back from his face.

  It was Beth’s turn to study his body, and she did, starting at the water droplets that clung to his eyelashes and moving downwards, taking in his handsome, rough-hewn face, then down to his chest, and the tattoos that decorated his body. He didn’t have as much ink as she’d expected – it had been too dark last night to make them all out, but in the morning sun, they were all on perfect display. One arm was completely covered, the design swirling its way upwards and over his shoulder, and spilling down to cover one perfect, hard pectoral muscle. His other arm was tattooed from wrist to elbow but no further, and
Beth liked the asymmetry, the mix of black ink and golden skin. In fact, she liked everything she was looking at; the corrugation of his abdominal muscles, the slimness of his hips, the power of his thighs – and the arousal between his legs.

  He was tall, and powerful, and perfect – and damn she wanted him. She wanted him so badly, and she absolutely knew she was eating him up with her gaze exactly the same way he was with his. And if Damon was awed by her, she was humbled by him. By all this muscle and strength that had saved their lives, and had been resilient beneath beatings that would have left Beth unable to move.

  “You are magnificent,” she said.

  His lips curved. “Isn’t that my line?”

  He stepped closer, leaning down to murmur against her lips. “You are fucking magnificent, Bethwyn Banfield. You are the bravest, strongest person I think I’ve ever met.”

  She smiled against his lips. “Right back at you.”

  Then, finally, he kissed her.

  At first, it was slow and gentle. The opposite of all their other kisses. His mouth explored hers, in generous open-mouthed kisses, that she returned kiss for kiss. Her hands slid up his arms to thread through his hair and draw him closer, but his hands rested quietly at her hips – and he didn’t tug her against his body, he didn’t claim her.

  Just kissing Damon was incredible, but it made her impatient – and she kissed her way to his ear to whisper: “This doesn’t feel like just fucking.”

  His hand gripped her hard, his thumbs digging into her hips. “That was a dumb thing for me to say, Beth. Of course this—”

  But she kissed him to silence. “No, Damon,” she said, when she came up for air, “That’s not what I meant. I—”

  Her bravado faltered a little, and she stood on her tiptoes as the water lapped her ankles, her mouth trailing down to his neck, and to the underside of his jaw. There, she bit him, just like he had bitten her outside his townhouse.

  “I want you to fuck me, Damon,” she breathed against the brand she’d made on his skin.

  It was all she wanted right now, because right now was all that mattered.

  “Say that again,” he said roughly.

  “Fuck me, please,” she said.

  He groaned. “I love when you say that, Beth. And I love that you say please. You are so fucking hot, Bethwyn Banfield, and you are so fucking you.”

  Now he finally properly pulled her close, her belly flush against his cock, his big hands cupping her arse in his hands. He kissed her now with that hint of force that she now knew she craved, because she wanted to feel overwhelmed by him, she wanted to feel his power.

  She kissed him back with her own desperation, nipping at his lips and tangling their tongues. Her hands slid down from his shoulders to explore his chest, her fingernails skating over his nipples, then drawing zigzags lower and lower.

  His hands were busy too, delving inside the back of her underwear and pushing the lace and satin downwards as his fingers slid into her wetness from behind. She gasped against his mouth, loving the way his fingers slid over her and circled her clit in insistent movements. Her own hand curled around his cock just as he pushed a thick finger inside her, and she moaned, no longer able to do anything but rest her forehead against his shoulder as he slid his finger in and out of her, murmuring constant encouragement in her ear, telling her how perfect she was, how hot, how sexy.

  She attempted to grip his penis, but he pushed her hand away. “Later,” he growled. “Let’s worry about you.”

  And then his other hand was at her clit, and he pushed a second finger into her, and all she was able to do was sigh and moan and shudder into his shoulder as he made her come.

  She didn’t know how much later she raised her head to press stunned, sated kisses up his neck, but eventually her legs stopped shaking, and she was capable of thinking about anything but how good he’d just made her feel.

  “Your turn,” she smiled against his skin and reached for his cock again, but he grabbed her wrist.

  “We don’t have condoms,” he said.

  “It’s okay,” she said, and Damon froze so quickly she almost laughed. “I’ve got the contraceptive implant thing, so as long as you’re clean, we’re good to go.”

  “I’m clean,” he said, “I promise. I had a full medical for work only recently.”

  Beth answered by kissing him again, and spoke between kisses. “I’m clean too, there’s been no one since my ex, and he had every test under the sun when he was sick.”

  Damon pulled back a little, as if he was going to ask her about that, but clearly, she did not want to talk about another man right now. She didn’t even want to talk right now, as now that they’d cleared up the whole condom situation, she just wanted him inside her. Needed him inside her.

  Damon grabbed her hand and tugged her away from the lake and beneath the shade of the mulga trees. He kissed her hard, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts and then shove up her bra so he could kiss and suck her nipples. Beth’s hair fell back, her wet hair cascading down her back as he kissed and fondled her. She hissed as he squeezed one nipple just hard enough to sting.

  “Okay?” he said as he kissed the slope of her breast, looking up to judge her reaction.

  She nodded, loving the contrast of pleasure and the hint of pain – but that wasn’t enough for him.

  “Beth,” he said softly against her breast. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Do that again,” she said, only a little amazed she could tell him this without blushing. “But harder. I like it when you’re rough with me.”

  He groaned, and did what she asked, and she arched in his arms, pressing her breasts closer still, needing him to touch her, squeeze her, kiss her – hard and soft, and everything in between.

  “Beth, I need …”

  She knew what he meant and looked around them – but they didn’t even have a blanket for the ground, and their clothes were wet.

  But Damon knew what he wanted, and he guided her to the largest mulga tree. Turning her away from him, he pushed aside her hair and kissed her neck as he palmed her bottom. “Rest your arms there,” he said, pointing at a convenient wide branch. “And bend over for me.”

  She didn’t think she’d ever felt more turned on in her life, but his blunt directions catapulted her to a whole new level, her belly flooding with warmth as she did exactly what he said.

  He bent over her, one hand sliding down her belly to put his fingers in her knickers to circle her clit. “You are so wet, Beth,” he groaned. “So hot, so good.” He bit her neck as he pulled her underwear down, then stepped back to slide them all the way off her legs, caressing her thighs, calves, and ankles as he did so. “Spread your legs,” he said.

  She loved how this was a demand and not a question – so much so that she thought she’d come before he was even inside her, and she pushed back against him in impatience, rubbing against his hardness.

  “Hurry,” she breathed. “Please.”

  But now there was more space behind her, enough that she felt the hint of a warm breeze against her naked skin. She tried to push back again, but he gripped her hip hard to hold her still.

  “Let me just look at you for a second, Beth,” he said, “This is sexy as fuck. You are sexy as fuck.”

  She looked over her shoulder, to see him watching her. She felt exposed, so open and vulnerable to him, but it felt so good. She felt powerful, beautiful – and deliciously both in and out of control. She was at his mercy, but likewise, he was at hers, and that juxtaposition was intoxicating.

  He gripped his cock in one hand as he looked at her, as if he was trying to remember every detail of her body, and what they were doing.

  The thing was, Beth didn’t need time to do any of that. She already knew she would never forget this, forget the things he was doing to her, or the way he made her feel.

  As she watched, he slid his hand from her hip to between her legs, sliding his fingers through her folds – and as good as that felt
she didn’t want his fingers.

  “Damon …” she said. “Please …”

  “Please what, Beth,” he said, catching her gaze. “Can you tell me what you want? Can you talk dirty for me?”

  He slid his fingers down to her clit, circling it leisurely, and sending sparks through her that made her gasp.

  Oh, she needed him inside her so badly. More than she could remember wanting anything, more than she’d ever imagined wanting any man. Anticipation made her squirm against his fingers, and he moved his touch away – leaving her empty and aching, only the breeze against her skin.

  “Please …” she moaned, barely able to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.

  “Tell me what you want, Beth,” he demanded again. “Tell me.”

  She’d never talked much in bed, let alone anything dirty, and yet, the words were suddenly there. The words she knew would push Damon over the edge, give him what he wanted – and give her what she wanted too.

  “I want you to stick your cock in me, Damon,” she breathed. “I want you to fuck me, hard, now. Please.”

  And she watched his gaze turn dark, and now both his hands bit into her hips, and he was heavy and thick between her legs, rubbing against her folds as if testing his fit. She arched her back and kept pleading with him. “Please, please, please …”

  Then finally, he pushed inside her, shoving his hardness into her softness, and it felt unbelievable.

  He wasn’t gentle, and she loved it. He thrust hard and fast, leaning forward to cup and squeeze her breasts, his breath hot against her neck and shoulders. “Touch yourself,” he said.

  And she did, and it took barely a touch to push her over the edge again, and for wave after wave of sensation to wash over her as she leant onto the branch, her forehead resting on her arm as her orgasm kept on coming as Damon slammed into her again and again. Then he was coming too, his groan loud and perfect in her ear as he came inside her, her body still shuddering from aftershocks.