Opportunity was ringing the doorbell.
Suddenly, the sparse space of the tent didn't look so confining after all.
Chapter 5
With only a brief stop for the MREs—military meals ready to eat—cold, yuck!—Powell pushed them almost twelve miles. Katrina was ready to shove his pedometer up his tight butt every time he checked it.
Propped up against a tree, she nursed her tired body. When Powell was busy setting up their torture chamber and not looking, she arched her back and stretched side to side. She shot a dirty look at her heavy backpack. Her feet cried to be free of the hiking boots and soaked in water, except that a hot bath didn't factor into her evening. They'd hiked past one shelter and were at least ten miles from the next one, so it was cold creek water for her.
All day long she'd admired—okay, stared at—Powell's mighty fine physique. She wondered at the muscles hidden under his shirt, the erection tucked away under his shorts. Did he have a chest full of hair?
Despite the aches and pains, she'd tromp another twelve miles of trail if it meant following the magnificent view.
As she watched, he slid the poles into the sleeves, giving the tent its shape. Her thighs clenched together in a futile effort to stop the throbbing between her legs as her body imagined his pole sliding, thrusting, filling her.
"If you're done lounging under that tree, I could use some help setting up the rest of the campsite before it gets dark."
Shoot, she refused to allow her wild side to take over. This would only work if she maintained a balance. Keeping up her half of the work, she busied herself setting up the campsite. Her back cramped and complained as she bent and stooped, reminding her that she needed to take two pain relievers as soon as possible.
Shuffling to her pack for some medicated relief, her foot snagged on a tree root. Her arms flailed, one leg coming up. With a quick step and a reflexive grab, Powell caught her forearm and yanked. Her body slammed into his. Soft breasts flattened against hard chest muscles. Her belly pressed to his lengthening cock. His thighs cradled hers.
He was going to kiss her. She felt it with a certainty, down to her curled-in-her-hiking-boots toes. God help her, she didn't want to turn her head, couldn't. Not this time. Nothing mattered past the throb of his erection along her lower belly and the temptation of impending liplock. Strong arms encircled her waist, decreasing the space between them until only their clothes separated them. Even that was too much space. Her wild child clawed and scratched for freedom, for the feel of his tongue thrusting along hers.
Tingles ran up and down her spine, supercharging at every point of contact. She heard his every breath, felt the warm air brush her skin, felt his chest push against her nipples until she wanted to beg him to rip off her shirt and suck on her. Each twinge of his erection caused a response between her legs. To heck with her breasts, she wanted him to strip off her shorts and drop to his knees between her legs. How fast could they get that tent set up to give them some privacy?
His eyes searched hers as his breathing slowed. “A little unsteady on your feet, there."
"Just a bit clumsy this evening. Or maybe my balance is off now that I'm finally not wearing that dang pack."
"Maybe you should stay here for a couple of minutes until I'm sure you're steady on your feet.” He looked like he'd be entirely too pleased with that scenario. With the size of the erection that had been trapped between their bodies, she'd be more than pleased, as well.
His hips shifted forward, as if her thoughts had been written on her face. While her attention was distracted by regions south of his belt, he swooped closer and captured her lips with his.
Oh. Good. God.
It was even better then she'd imagined. Firm and smooth, his mouth brushed hers. The contact remained light, teasing nibbles at the corners and a nip or two at her lower lip. Restrained tension rippled through his body. Sensing he waited for a signal from her, she willed her arms to push him away. To her utter mortification, they wrapped around his neck instead. That was all the encouragement he needed. Gathering her close, he darted his tongue along the seam of her mouth until she allowed him entrance. He swept inside with a bold, masterful stroke, no longer content to keep the contact playful. Oh, no. He possessed her, enraptured her, tasted her.
A groan—his? hers?—passed between them. Every rise and fall of his chest abraded the stiff peaks of her nipples, which begged for his touch. A fine sweat broke out all over her body. She felt hot with a fever sweeping through her body, one no amount of medicine could bring down. He could cure her. She longed to wrap a leg around him, allowing him to rub his magnificent erection right where she needed it most. As strung out as she felt right now, that would be enough to give her an orgasm.
Suddenly, she realized he no longer held her close. A chill wracked her body. He gripped her arms by her wrists and untangled himself from her.
"We can't do this."
Huh?
But of course, he was right. As much as her responsible side hated to admit it, as much as her now even-more-sex-starved body hated her for admitting it.
No, he was wrong. Her wild side refused to accept no for an answer, not now that she'd tasted his kiss. A tactical retreat was in order. A chance to regroup and plan an attack.
"Why don't you go hit the showers, metaphorically speaking, first while I get the fire going? When you come back, I'll take my turn while you decide which of the delicious options we'll gag down for dinner."
"Why is it suddenly my turn to make dinner?” A teasing smile lit his face.
"Consider it payback for the enforced march and miserable lunch."
He threw back his head and laughed. “I'm not sure I like your logic."
Fisting her hands on her hips, she stared him down. “Too bad."
Still chuckling, he dug his toiletries out of his pack and headed the short distance to the creek. Katrina raced around the campsite, gathering up kindling, all thoughts of aches and pains vanished at the prospect of making love with Powell. Make no mistake, it was going to happen. Once the unruly part of her personality latched onto an idea, tenacious didn't begin to describe her. That was why she'd kept that part of her bolted in a safe until Powell figured out how to pick the lock. With one well-placed match, the wood sparked and burned, giving her time to make sure the inside of the tent was properly prepared. Unfortunately, there was only so much to work with in order to provide a proper seductive ambiance. She tucked the camp light into the corner, the better to see him with.
Pacing around the perimeter of the camping area and double-checking the security wiring still left time on her hands. Inspiration struck. She slipped off her hiking boots and picked her way to the water's edge.
Her breath caught in her throat at her first sight of naked Braedon. Even from a distance, his body was amazing. The water rippled over his muscles as he washed off the soap. His taut butt flexed as he moved, pure poetry in motion. Her hand reached out in a futile effort to touch his skin. The next time she had him naked, she planned to be close enough to lick and kiss every inch of him.
Every inch of him. She willed him to turn around, to allow her to see all of him. As if he heard her, he spun around and faced her. The water lapped at his upper thighs, giving her unrestricted visual access. Her overactive imagination had failed her; he was even more well-endowed than she'd thought. Hoped. Dared to dream. The man could have had a second career as a porn star. Or better yet, an underwear model, so he wouldn't be having sex with other women. Her body clenched and throbbed at the thought of taking him deep inside. Her mouth dried out at the thought of tasting him. It was a darn good thing no one was around. He'd probably have her screaming and breathless and she had no inclination to chew on her pillow to keep from being heard.
As she watched, he soaped up his hand and began to stroke his erection to even more impressive dimensions. Gulp. He couldn't be, he wasn't, was he? His eyes closed as he stroked. His other hand dipped between his legs to stroke his balls. Her ga
ze locked on the sight. She knew men masturbated but she'd never seen it live and in person. A rampaging bear couldn't tear her gaze away right now. His actions quickened, he began to moan. Her body responded to the erotic spectacle in front of her. She scratched her nipples with the heel of her hand in a futile attempt to quell the need building in them. The muscles of her vagina twitched and convulsed, but failed to curb the empty feeling. She struggled against the urge to slide her fingers inside her shorts. With a guttural shout, his body quivered and his release spurted from the tip of his erection.
Gathering her wits about her, she hugged the trees as she made her way back to camp. Nighttime couldn't come soon enough.
* * * *
The little minx.
Braedon watched Katrina scurry back to the campsite. When he'd first heard the footsteps, he'd prepared for a fight with an unknown visitor. Until he'd turned around to see his partner hiding behind a bush watching him. She'd actually snuck down to catch him naked. So he'd upped the stakes. What he hadn't expected was for it to feel so good to jerk off for her. He'd just experienced one of his most powerful orgasms ever. At his own hand.
Now what?
For a week, they'd both fought the powerful sexual attraction that flared between them. Today's kiss had only pushed the stakes higher.
He had too much on the line to risk having sex. So he'd summoned the strength to break off before things escalated out of control.
She's not Greta.
His gut had argued against Greta from the very beginning. His dick had warred with his instinct, wanting the pretty young thing. His innate sixth sense had argued back. And been right. I told you so wasn't a strong enough admonition for the grief his dick wrought. His dick and his gut were all in favor of getting busy with Katrina, no conflict there. Inside their little tent. Outside their little tent. Anywhere he could get her to wrap her legs around his waist. His intellect wasn't so sure this time. He'd been burned once.
Katrina was the furthest thing from Greta. She was an independent career woman with an ambitious agenda, secure in her own right. She didn't need to run to daddy with her problems. She'd been with the Bureau a hell of a lot longer than him, had more to lose. A promotion and a new career track were within reach. He couldn't imagine her doing anything to jeopardize that.
The rocky creek bed poked at his feet, even through his water shoes, as he made his way to dry land and his towel. There was no denying he wanted her and she wanted him. Maybe he just needed to relax and see where the evening took him. A little R and R wouldn't hurt. It wasn't like he was looking for a relationship.
Dressed and ready for a sexual adventure, he filled a bucket with water and dropped a purification tablet in before heading back. He found Katrina sitting on a stump in front of the fire, the makings of dinner already in the works.
"I thought it was my turn to make dinner?"
"I needed to, well, I just thought ... I decided to go ahead and get started."
Interesting. The little show had flustered her. Had she run back here to get herself off? That was an image he didn't need if he wanted to at least eat some food first. “Thank you.” He sat down next to her.
Popping off her seat, she raced to gather up her toiletries. “I'll go clean up now. I'll be quick since it won't take long for everything to heat up."
She darted off to the water, causing Braedon to chuckle.
He surprised himself with the realization that he enjoyed spending time with Katrina. A very good thing, since they were forced into close proximity. Not that it mattered since he'd been stuck with assholes on assignments more times than he cared to remember. Still, respecting a coworker made for a better working environment. This—this lust—was more than mutual respect. Since Serena's death, he'd made a habit of keeping his distance. He found himself wanting to be with Katrina, to talk to her, get to know her better. He chalked it up to a close working partnership. His gut argued that rationale, so he shut it up.
Ten minutes later, Katrina arrived back at his side dressed in her jogging shorts and her running bra. Minus the t-shirt she'd been wearing any other night. Plus, if he wasn't mistaken, she'd gone commando.
Her courage had returned. Maybe she'd be the aggressor in this little escapade. He liked that in a woman.
Braedon served up dinner—more stew—and they discussed the game plan for tomorrow as they ate. The sun sank below the horizon as they talked and cleaned up, leaving them sitting by the glow of the fire and Braedon wondering if she planned to make the first move or if he'd assumed wrong.
Until she got up to dip her cup in the water and sat back down. On his lap.
"Katrina—"
"Shh. It's not wrong and we can do this. We're both consenting adults and I don't have any hidden agenda."
At the mention of hidden agendas, his focus briefly shifted to his conversation with Griffin. Once Katrina brushed her not-quite-so-covered breasts against his chest, all other thoughts faded.
"I want to have sex with a man I find very attractive and who finds me good looking, too.” She stroked a finger along his jawbone, drawing his eyes to hers. “It's been a long time since I've been with a man. They're either turned off when they learn I'm a law enforcement officer, intimidated by a strong woman, or turned on—in a very sick way—by a woman who carries handcuffs."
"Define long time."
"Since before I was transferred to Philadelphia."
Shit. She'd been in Philly for five years. The idea of being the first man to fuck her after all that time turned him on. “You work in a male-dominated environment. You mean to tell me that you weren't able to find a LEO smart enough to date you?"
"As a general rule, I don't date fellow law enforcement officers. It's not worth the hassle."
"And yet—"
"And yet, here we are, you making me wait even longer."
"I'll make it worth your wait."
"I'm sure you will.” She wiggled her bottom until her hip made contact with his cock. It was a damn good thing he'd jerked off earlier. He didn't want to go shooting off too soon and spoil her fun.
He threaded his fingers through the wet strands of her hair, tugging them free of the ponytail. A sudden image gripped him, of fucking her ass while he tugged on her hair. Soon. His mouth touched hers, gently, as he held himself in check. She deserved more than being tossed on her back. She deserved finesse. Once, twice, he brushed her lips with his before settling in for more. His tongue stole into her mouth, tangling with hers, tasting her. The urge to ravage her pushed at him, but he refused to give in. There would be plenty of time for that.
She whimpered, stealing his breath, as she launched her own foray between his lips. Her hands gripped the back of his head, clutching, demanding more. Oh, the fun he planned to have dragging this out. He sucked on her tongue, felt the groan rumble in her chest. His hands roamed over the soft bare skin between her bra and her shorts, needing more.
Breaking contact for the briefest of seconds, he stripped off his shirt and plunged back into her mouth. He angled his head for better contact, deepened the kiss. Her plump lips felt so right against his. He mentally shook away the thought.
His hand came up to cup a cotton-covered breast, her nipples already hard. He traced the puckered skin of her areole and scraped his nail across the straining tip. With an arch of her back, she pushed against his palm, begging for more. Sliding a finger between fabric and skin, he followed her curves, taking pleasure in her frustration.
He couldn't seem to stop kissing her, and didn't want to. But there was more to be worshipped on her beautiful body than just her lips. With a sigh of regret, he dragged his mouth over her jaw line to her ear. Short hot puffs of air warmed his cheek as he lavished attention to the spot where her neck met her shoulder.
Continuing his downward path, his lips hit the cloth barrier depriving him of easy access to her breasts. He tugged the offending garment out of the way, pausing to feast his eyes first. Despite a slight hint of sag as he freed t
hem, she had magnificent tits with large rosy centers. “My God, you're beautiful.” He lowered his head to devour her. She clutched at his back as he raked his teeth over a nipple and pinned it to the roof of his mouth. If she'd had nails, she'd have left marks. Her body shuddered and shivered as he licked and sucked to his heart's content.
His hand dropped to her thigh, causing a violent tremor to wrack her body. Shitfuckdam. She was so responsive he couldn't wait to get her underneath him. His fingers inched their way to the crotch of her shorts. He'd been right, she didn't have on any underwear. The heat from her pussy burned him. She was hot and wet and oh-so ready for him.
Pushing to his feet, he kept her clutched close to his chest. “Whaddya say we take this to a more private place?"
* * * *
Katrina wanted to explode. She needed to come. If Braedon didn't do something soon, she'd be forced to hurt him, that's all there was to it. He set her on her feet and gestured for her to climb into the tent first. Dropping to her hands and knees, she wiggled her butt as she went inside. Two could play at this torture game.
Once inside, she shimmied out of her bra and shorts then turned on the small camp light. She'd waited five years. She refused to wait any longer. The intense heat of her arousal burned from the inside out. She bit back a smile at the look on his face when he finally entered the tent.
"Good God, woman, you're trying to kill me.” Braedon's gaze raked over her, a physical force that stroked her. Her nipples tightened has he stared at her breasts, yearning for his teeth, his tongue. Then he spotted her tattoo. Dropping her knee to the side, she allowed him a clearer glance at the dragon that started with its open fire-breathing mouth right where her pubic hair should have been, snaked down between her legs on the right side of her body, and ended with its tail curling around to point at her anus. “You really are trying to kill me."
Trail of Desire [Class of '93 Trilogy Book 2] Page 8
