Page 31 of Out on a Limb

“Mine,” I grit out between clenched teeth, hooking one arm beneath her knee and bending her leg up to get a better angle. When I hit the right spot inside her, she cries out with pleasure, honey-brown eyes shocked wide. “Mine. You’re mine, Jana.”

She nods, too dazed, too worked up to speak, her fingernails clawing at my back and urging me on.

That’s okay. She doesn’t need to speak right now. I’m feeling chatty enough for the both of us, running my mouth as my hips pound into hers. The rhythm is a drumbeat in my hind brain.

“Ah, shit. You feel that, baby? You know how good you feel right now?”

Jana gives a whimper of agreement.

I palm her tit, then pinch that hard little nipple between finger and thumb.

Above our heads, the window has fogged over, blocking out the shadows and any late-night prying eyes. And it’s so easy to forget that we’re on a borrowed office floor on a messy pile of Jana’s clothes; so easy to ignore the bruises throbbing on my knees and the cold air seeping underneath the closed door. Because sure, this may not be the most glamorous location; sure, there are a few dust bunnies under Flint’s desk. Sure, I’ve traveled over all seven continents and seen great wonders of the world.

But right now, with Jana Kumara raking her nails down my chest, her hips bucking up to meet mine—there’s no place I’d rather be on this whole damn planet. Not one.

This is the thrill I’ve been searching for.

“That’s it.” I grin, knowing exactly how she’ll take my next words. The effect they’ll have on my future wife. I say them anyway because, you know, I’ve always been a sucker for an adrenaline sport. “Lie there and take it like a good girl, Jana.”

Her eyes flare—first with shock, then with challenge—and that’s the only warning I get. Then Jana surges up beneath me, topples me over with surprising strength, and scrambles on to my body like a queen claiming new territory. If she could, she’d plant a little flag right in the center of my chest. I’d let her.

“No, you lie there, Stig Hansen.” Jana is flushed and out of breath, her short hair sticking up in crazy tufts, and I’ve never loved her more than this moment. She sinks down onto my shaft without a moment’s hesitation, taking her due, and begins to ride. “If you want a fight, I’ll give you a fight.”

Yes.

She’s seen into my soul. That’s all I want: a lifetime of grappling with Jana, in bed and out. Pitting our wits against each other, competing to make the other laugh the hardest, to admit defeat, to come first.

Who needs mountain summits and white water rapids when Jana Kumara is here, staring at me with that defiant spark in her eyes?

“Ngh.”

Her hips roll, that tight body dragging along my cock, and the sparks crackling along my nerve endings steal my ability to speak. All I can do is grunt and squeeze her magnificent thighs, thrusting up into heaven, gritting my teeth as pleasure coils in my gut.

“Not so chatty now, huh?”

My girl smirks down at me as she rocks back and forth, a fine layer of sweat sheening her brown skin. And she’s so fucking beautiful, such a goddess, so funny and smart and bright, that I’ll be working my whole life to deserve the gift of her love.

That’s okay. I’m up for the challenge, and it starts right now.

Starts here on Flint’s office floor, in a muddled pile of Jana’s clothes, fucking each other into oblivion beneath a fogged up window.

Starts with my ring on her finger for real, no bets or arrangements.

Starts with whispered promises and snorts of laughter and a loud curse as I bump my head on the desk table leg.

Tomorrow, we’ll clean up in here and hike back up to our cabin, back to the life waiting for us. But tonight, I’ve got a fiance to work into a sweaty, whimpering puddle.

Heart pounding with exhilaration, I flip us over once again.

I’m going to work Jana Kumara until she begs for release.

* * *

Five years later

Shrill little screams float down the mountain path, and my mouth twitches into a small smile. I’ve only been gone for a few hours, hiking down to town to upload new content to my channel and pick up dinner supplies, but still, this final approach to the cabin always feels like a grand homecoming. Habit, I guess.

For so many years, I let the cabin stand empty. I locked up and took off, striding into the mountains for another great adventure—only to wash up again weeks or months later, dirty and bedraggled with a few new scars, plus hours of footage for my channel.

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