Page 70 of Tattered and Torn

“You.”

I sit beside her on the bedroll and stretch out my legs. “How so?”

Without another word, she runs one of her hands slowly up my right leg, not stopping until she encounters the hard-on pressing against my zipper. She rises up on her knees and unsnaps my blue jeans, pausing long enough to look me in the eye, as if asking permission. Ah, bless her heart. As if she needs to ask permission.

I lie back on the padded bedding, my head on a pillow. I stretch my arms out to my sides. “I’m all yours. Do with me whatever you want.”

She grins. “I plan to.”

It’s already several degrees warmer in the tent now, just from our combined body heat. Gabrielle’s on her knees, facing me. She removes her jacket, then her long-sleeved T-shirt. I stare in fascination at the soft flesh of her breasts practically spilling over the cups of her pale, peach-colored bra. She starts removing her jeans, but nearly loses her balance in the process, falling forward. I catch her, and she laughs. I do, too. She finally gets her jeans off and lays them aside. Her panties match her bra, little peach-colored panties that beckon me to put my hands on her. When I reach for her, hoping to relieve her of her underwear, she pushes me onto my back.

“It’s my turn,” she says.

I’m all for fair play, but right now I’m torn between wanting my mouth on her and having her mouth on me. I guess the decision is made for me when she takes my erection in her hand and squeezes.

I see stars, literal stars, as light bursts behind my eyes. I just know she’s going to be the death of me.

But, man, what a sweet way to go.

Chapter 22 – Gabrielle

John has given me several orgasms, so it’s my turn to return the favor. This is something I’ve been looking forward to all day. The whole time we were riding up here, I was fantasizing about giving him head. Ever since he mentioned that I’d be on top—so that he didn’t grind me into the ground—it’s all I’ve been able to think about.

There’s no doubt in my mind—John Burke is the most exciting lover I’ve ever had. The most raw and elemental lover.

I unzip his jeans and work them down his long legs.

“By the way, there’s a condom in my satchel over there,” he says, nodding toward a small canvas bag in the corner of the tent. His voice seems a bit deeper than usual, rougher. “I came prepared this time.”

“You’re such a Boy Scout.”

“Me? Hardly.” He scoffs. “I want to be prepared for any contingency. It’s the Army in me.”

I glance over at his rifle, tucked safely in its worn, leather scabbard. He also has a pistol in a holster somewhere, but I don’t see it. “Like the rifle?”

“You’ll be glad I have it if something unpleasant comes into our campground during the night.”

I shudder at the idea of a wild animal coming into our campground. The proximity of the rifle also makes me nervous, but I guess it’s a necessity out here in the wilderness. I look away, returning my attention back to John, which is where it should be.

“Do you know how to shoot?” he asks me. Apparently, he’s not ready to let the topic drop.

“No.”

“Then I know what we’re doing tomorrow after breakfast.”

“And what’s that?” I’m pretty sure I can guess.

“Shooting lessons. If you’re going to be traipsing around the wilderness, you need to know how to handle a firearm—just in case. It’s for your own protection.”

“Okay,” I say as I toss his jeans aside. “But that’s a conversation for tomorrow.”

The outline of his erection presses firmly against his black boxer-briefs. It’s just as impressive now as it was the last time. It wasn’t my imagination. The man is endowed.

I reach for the waistband of his briefs and begin sliding them down past his hips, careful not to catch the fabric on his package. Meanwhile, he’s casually unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off. Then he whips off his undershirt and tosses it aside. When he’s finally naked, I take a moment to look my fill.

His body is gorgeous—there’s no other way to describe him. Everything is so firm and chiseled, probably a result of lifting saddles and hauling around bales of hay and straw, or sacks of grain. He has an actual six pack. I can easily count the ridges.

The thought of him being injured breaks my heart.

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