Asp

by Kris Michaels

His eyes crossed, and he groaned as she slid her hand up and down the length of his shaft. She pushed his chest again, and he allowed her to move him to his side. She inched down his body, kissing her way down his chest, past his ribs, to his stomach. Her tongue circled and then delved into his belly button. He gripped his cock through his jeans. If he didn't, he'd fucking bust his nut before she ever put her lips on him, and God help him, if that was what she was promising, he'd make damn sure he didn't finish until he felt the warmth of her sweet mouth.

  She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Her tongue played hell with the skin on his groin that she slowly exposed. Fuck, his legs already shook, and his breathing sounded like he'd run a damn marathon. She pulled his cock out from the folds of denim and... ohmygodyessofuckinggood. He snapped his mouth shut against the shout of absolute fucking delight her hot, warm mouth pulled from the deepest parts of his soul. He bucked against her mouth. He couldn't help it. Her fingers clawed at his hip, pulling him toward her again, and sweet mother of everything right with the world, he thrust. He thrust again. The sounds of her taking him intensified the sharpness of the edge he'd been walking. He thrust again, and as Lyric pulled him deeper, he felt his cockhead push past the back of her mouth into her throat. Her moan vibrated up his cock, through his spine and blew out the top of his fucking head. He lost it, lost everything in that moment. He had just enough discipline to choke his bellow of gratification into some faint, wounded animal, sound. She pulled away enough to suck his shaft, taking everything as he spent down her throat. He pulled her off his cock and crashed his mouth against hers. He needed to...

  He slid onto his back and pulled her on top of him. His arms slid down her sides, under her legs and he lifted, bringing her up to straddle his chest. Her eyes popped open, and she looked down at him. "Drop your jeans. Ride my mouth."

  Her mouth opened in an "O" as his words registered. She moved off him, unbuttoned and unzipped. It took some maneuvering, but she was able to shed the jeans and her panties quickly. She straddled him once again. He lifted her shirt and bra baring her full, round breasts. His eyes traveled from her sex, up her stomach, over her ribs, and to her breasts. If he thought the woman was beautiful with clothes on, the sight of her disheveled and partially clothed was erotic as fucking hell. When his hands followed the path charted by his eyes, his spent cock made an admirable attempt at getting hard again. He pulled her down and circled one nipple with his lips while his hand tended to the other. Lyric's hips bucked forward, and she ground her sex against his stomach. He lowered his free hand to her and teased the folds of skin hiding her clit. She growled at him, and his eyes snapped up to find hers.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and warned, "I didn't tease you. You damn sure better not tease me."

  Asp smiled, and in one smooth movement pulled his hands away from her body, slid them under her legs, and lifted her over his mouth, centered where he could taste her. He wrapped his arms over her legs and used his fingers to separate her folds. She was already wet for him. He zeroed in on his prize and pressed her pelvis down, not that she needed encouragement. He felt her hands plant above his head. Her hips moved in small jerks as she chased the perfect sensation of his lips, teeth, and tongue against her lips and clit. Her gasp, "Yes, there, like that," floated through to him. He locked his arms, keeping her in position and feasted. Her thighs shook and clenched and her body tried to move away or move closer, he wasn't sure which. The only thing he did know was she was close to orgasm. So fucking close, and he was using every technique his vast repertoire to shove her over the edge. He wanted to taste her when she came. So. Damn. Bad.

  Lyric's legs tightened, clenching around him. She bucked against his grip. Her body froze for a moment, and then he felt the rhythmic spasms of her orgasm. He worked her through it, even when she tried to pull away, keeping after that hard pearl until...she gasped with a low cry and came again. Asp released her to slide down his body until she lay on top of him, her head tucked into his neck, her breathing labored and interlaced with delicate whispers of, “Oh, my God.” The heat of the Colombian sun and the strenuous efforts of their love making covered them in perspiration. He'd give anything to be able to take care of her, to wash her body with cool water. But that would assume they had a relationship. They didn't. He had some kind of fucked up desire that would only end in him hurting her. She had...hell, he didn't know why she wanted him, but there was no way this wasn't ending with one or both of them getting hurt.

  The heat was too much to keep the skin to skin contact. He drew a deep breath and let her roll off him onto the blanket and her side. She flopped to her back and started laughing. A low, melodic sound. Asp lifted up on his elbow and looked down at her. "Do I need to tell you that laughing after sex can make your partner wonder if A, you are laughing at them, or B, your orgasms broke something inside you."

  She rolled her head toward him. The smile on her face was a thing of beauty. "I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at all those bumbling bastards I let try that before. No, actually that's not true. What started me laughing was the thought you should give lessons, and that started me thinking about the lack of satisfaction I'd received in the past, compared to the mind-blowing sex we just had. In the middle of the forest. On the run. I'd love to see what you could do in a proper bed."

  Asp leaned over her and tipped her chin up, so she'd look directly at him. "You know that probably won't happen, right?"

  "What? You giving lessons or the proper bed?"

  "I'm definitely not giving lessons." He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. "What I meant is, you know this thing between us isn't going to last. It can't." He watched the smile fade off her face, and a furrow built between her eyebrows.

  "We just had really good sex. I'm not going to start dreaming of bridal dresses and writing Lyric Cooper in my notebook a million times. I have no expectations beyond maybe an orgasm or two. Stop worrying. I’m not deluding myself this is permanent. " She jerked her chin out of his hold and worked to get her jeans pulled up and her shirt back around her body. While he tucked himself back into his jeans, she rolled on her side away from him and grabbed a book out of her backpack before tucking her backpack under her head and opening the cover.

  He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. How the fuck did she do that? She’d handed him his ass on a silver platter when all he’d wanted was to make sure she wouldn’t get hurt. Fuck him standing. He worked at relaxing his breath into an even pattern. He needed to sleep, to recharge for tonight's trek, but he couldn't because, damn it, even though she had no illusions about what was going on between them, he suddenly found he did. That thought scared the fuck out of him.

  He rolled away from her and focused on the vines that protected them from the rest of the world. He turned the problem over and over, examined it from every conceivable angle. There was no way he could walk away from the world he lived in to be with her in hers. His past would find them, and she would pay the price. No, she could never be pulled into the reality in which he existed. Face it, asshole. If you care about her, the only thing you can do is walk away. The caustic voice inside his brain melted his hopes and dreams and seared his reality into focus.

  He'd allowed himself a small reprieve, a chance to hope, and it had fucked with his mind. He was done. Done with hoping. Done with looking at the woman he was with and pretending they could have a life. They would travel. They would escape, and he would leave. He had no other option but to leave because, while she may have no expectations, he did.

  Chapter 13

  Lyric put her toe down carefully, feeling for a branch or stick. She slid her boot until she felt solid ground and stepped forward again, glancing up at where Isaac stood in the distance. He'd said about three words since they’d woken up tonight and picked up the pace of their travel. Whatever, he could be a douche. Let him. Lyric had been surprised at his impromptu, 'this can go nowhere speech' this afternoon. Seriously, who did that? She was complimenting him on two fantastic orgasms a
nd boom...he goes all serious and shit. Like they both didn't know whatever it was between them wasn't permanent. What was she going to say to him, "No, you made me orgasm. Now I want a wedding band and kids?” Or maybe, “you fucked me, you keep me?" What did he think she was going to do? Tell her daddy that her virginity had been compromised? Hell, that had happened in Jacksonville when she was fifteen in the back room at a college frat party she'd snuck off to without her parents’ knowledge.

  Lyric stepped carefully and glanced up again at where Isaac was waiting and froze. He wasn't there. She dropped to the ground instantly. He was supposed to be...she saw him further on up the trail. The asshole hadn't even waited for her to reach him this time. She ground her teeth together and stood up. Well, fine. It seemed as if he couldn't wait to get rid of her. She picked up her speed, trying to be as soundless in the forest as he was, and succeeding for the most part. She'd snap an occasional branch or slip on a rock she didn't feel under a layer of leaves, but she kept up. She glanced up at him and noticed she'd gained on him. He stood about twenty feet away. She stopped where she was, not intending on going further until he led the way. He nodded to her right. She looked the direction he indicated and blinked to try to figure out what she was seeing. There was a dark void in the pale shards of trees up the ridgeline. She studied it for several moments before the form made sense. A shack. She glanced around the area and noticed flat acreage below the building. Coca fields. Cocaine.

  Lyric moved forward until they were squatting down next to each other, hidden by the underbrush. "It may not be vacant," she whispered.

  "It is. I passed it on my way here." His eyes studied the place as he whispered his reply.

  She noticed a distinct furrow in his brow. "What is it?"

  "This is a perfect spot for us to wait out the day, to rest and to get ready for tomorrow night."

  Lyric couldn't agree more. She started to lift so they could make their way to the shelter, but he gripped her arm and kept her from moving. His grip didn't loosen. She could see his eyes darting around the area. He was completely immobile. Something was wrong. She didn't know what he sensed, but she'd learned his mannerisms. This hesitation wasn't because he was trying to be a dick like earlier tonight when he'd set a grueling pace. No, something had made him wary. He still gripped her arm, and Lyric wasn't going to disregard his silent warning.

  She relaxed against his hold and watched him as he systematically scanned the landscape in short bursts. He was working closer to where they were crouched. She couldn't see as well as he could at night, but she could see his face, and she watched as he worked. He jumped ever so slightly. His grip intensified for a fraction of a second, and his eyes bounced back and forth. He lifted the hand not holding her and put his fingers to his lips. Yeah, like she'd say a word. He turned his head and looked at her before he pointed at her and then at the ground. He lifted his hand in a stop sign fashion. She nodded and sank to her knees, taking the strain off her legs. He nodded and carefully, soundlessly, took the strap of his rifle off his shoulder. He set the weapon down and slipped out of his pack. He pointed to himself and then indicated the area he'd been scanning. He pointed to his watch and lifted all ten fingers, closed both fists and lifted them again. Twenty minutes? Okay, he'd be gone for about twenty minutes. She nodded and leaned against a small tree. He made a move to rise but stopped, dropped his hand toward hers and squeezed it once before he stood up and ghosted off into the trees. Lyric had no idea what the final touch was for, but she'd hoped it was an attempt to put things right between them. Not that he needed to do that. Okay, yes, he did, because she wasn't going to make the first move. She wasn't the one who made it weird. She would have. Eventually. But he beat her to the punch. She did have hearts and flowers and dreams of a happily ever after with him floating around inside her head, but she was an adult. She knew they weren't right for each other. Having him beat her over the head with it, though? Ouch.

  His form melded with the shadows, and she lost track of him, but she had a vague fix on the area where his attention had focused before he left her. She leaned against a small tree and shifted her weight to relax her muscles as quietly and as slowly as she could manage. The night sounds enfolded her as insects sang a quiet song around her. A bird launched from the bushes. She snapped her head toward where the sleeping bird had been frightened from its perch. There were no other movements or sounds. Perhaps something hunting at night. A feral cat...or a jaguarundi, what her grandfather called a gato moro. She dismissed that idea immediately. Her grandfather told her the gato moro hunted during the day and slept in the forest trees at night. Lyric closed her eyes and then slowly opened them, glancing up into the trees overhead. She examined the branches and gave a silent shudder of relief when she couldn't see signs of a big cat. She glanced back at the area where the bird had startled. Whatever it was that caused the bird to take flight also caused the entire forest to fall into an unnatural silence.

  She listened for any sound that might tell her where Isaac had traveled. She had no watch to tell her how long he'd been gone, only her sense of time elapsed, and that seemed to have disappeared the second she'd lost sight of him in the forest. What happened if he didn't come back? She glanced at his rifle and then to his pack. He'd come back. He had to come back. She studied the area around her, her eyes jerking from image to image. She gripped her hands together to keep them from shaking. He'd come back. The thrush of the insect song started up again. Isaac would come back. The bug song slowly built. She pulled in a deep breath and held it, counting to twenty before she released it. She'd count until he came back. Count the seconds. Yes, it was a plan. She could keep track of the minutes by counting. Her mind popped off with one Mississippi, two Mississippi, so she went with it. Her thumb touching a finger with each sixty-second count that passed.

  A slide of sound to her right brought her head up and around. She leaned into the tree to try to blend into the surroundings. The insect song continued around her. She blinked and scanned the area where she'd heard the sound and picked out a form moving slowly toward her. Lyric shrank as small as she could make herself and watched the shadow moving closer. She almost cried in relief when she was able to make out his identity. Isaac didn't speak but knelt and gathered his pack. He put it on before he strapped his rifle to his back. He motioned for her to follow. She didn't hesitate and stayed within five feet of his retreating form. He didn't go toward the shelter. Instead, he moved rapidly away from it, almost back the way they had come.

  They moved fast and silent through the forest. He turned in sharp right and left angles. Any hope of knowing which direction they were traveling in ended with the third radical turn he made. Her thighs burned from moving forward in a perpetual crouch while staying light on her toes. Her thighs shook from exhaustion, and her lungs burned, but she kept up as well as she could. Finally, Isaac slowed. He signaled for her to drop and she did. Immediately and thankfully. He disappeared from her sight, but she was too exhausted to do more than crouch as low to the ground as she could get. She saw him come back toward her and signal for her to follow. Her legs screamed in complaint, but she pushed up and moved forward.

  He stopped and motioned for her to come closer. They both sank to the forest floor. He put his lips next to her ear and whispered, "There. Through the trees. Do you see it?"

  Lyric followed his finger and squinted. A vehicle? There was no road that she could see, and it appeared one of the tires was off the chassis. Her head snapped toward him. "Is it safe?"

  He actually smiled at the question but shrugged. "It was probably deserted by drug traffickers.” He nodded in the other direction. "The stream we've been following is over that small rise."

  "We've been following a stream?" She swung her head toward the hill. She heard his response in the form of a low rumble of laughter. She nudged him with her shoulder and grumbled, "Shut up."

  He looked up at the night sky and then nodded toward the truck. They moved forward carefully. Isaac managed
to open the back hatch. He pushed inside and explored the interior before he took off his pack and laid his rifle in the empty back cargo space. The SUV had been gutted, probably to carry more bales of coca leaves. He dug into his pack and handed her a bar of soap, a tin of toothpaste powder and a toothbrush. He grabbed his rifle and motioned for her to follow. She blinked at the items in her hand and at his disappearing back before her feet started to move of their own accord. He stopped beside a low bank and sat down, taking off his boots. Lyric stood motionless as she watched him disrobe. He glanced back at her and smiled. He whispered, "Take your clothes off. We'll wash us and then our clothes. I'll put them on top of the vehicle to dry during the day."

  He peeled his clothes off and carried them into the stream with him. His light skin and naked form were illuminated by the moon. The word impressive didn’t do him justice because it didn’t begin to describe the masculine beauty that held her mesmerized. Lyric jolted from her observation when he turned toward her and extended his free hand. She slid her backpack off and made quick work of stripping. She wasn't ashamed of her body, and they'd already been intimate, but she felt her face heat at his blatant examination. She carefully moved forward but slipped when she entered the stream. Isaac's hand was there immediately, steadying her. He led her into the deepest part of the stream where he sat down into waist-deep water. The water was cool, but not cold. She held out his bar of soap, and he wasted no time scrubbing himself clean. Lyric carefully sat down and submerged her clothes, and then his, in the water. She put a rock over the stack of clothes so they wouldn't move. They washed without sharing words. He ducked under the water and then washed his hair. They shared the soap back and forth. He scrubbed soap into their clothes while she washed the suds from her hair. They left the stream not more than five minutes after they entered it with few words exchanged. Naked except for the boots they shoved their feet into, they made their way back to the hollowed-out SUV. Isaac spread their clothes on top of the vehicle to dry. They were invisible from the side or from the sky because of the canopy of trees that drooped over the roof.