Rocky Mountain Vignettes (Six Pack Ranch) (8 page)

Right now she wasn’t in the RCMP cruiser, and she certainly wasn’t on any major highway in the Rocky Mountain House area. Anna Coleman sat in her personal vehicle at the side of a lonely country gravel road as
anticipation
rapidly rolled toward
consummation
.

Thank God.

Her side-view mirror gave her a flawless view of Mitch Thompson. He uncurled himself from his Harley, removed his helmet and left it behind on the handlebars. Her heart rate kicked up as he sauntered closer, dragging a hand through his dark hair before pulling off his sunglasses and hanging them from his front pocket. Black leathers gripped his thighs, sunlight flicking off the fabric as he strode forward. The tight black T-shirt only emphasized the width of his chest and biceps, the dark lines of his tattoos curling over his forearms to where they ended in ragged flames on his wrists and the back of his hands.

Hmmm, his hands…

His usual cocky grin was absent, instead his expression one of total dignity and control, one step away from a glare. From this distance, she couldn’t see the golden specks in his dark brown eyes, but they were there, the knowledge of how they flashed brighter during moments of intense pleasure intimately embedded in her memory. His hair was too short to be more than rumpled from the time under his helmet, the dark brown strands matching the shadow of facial hair darkening his square jawline.

Nice
. Today Mitch was one hundred percent hoodlum playing one hundred percent dangerous authority, and the combination caused one hundred and ten wicked reactions. She squeezed her knees together, but the pressure did nothing to ease the localized ache between her thighs.

He rapped his knuckles on her window.

Anna moved slowly, as if she hadn’t been panting for this moment. She rolled down her window but stared straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact.

“I need to see some identification,” he drawled.

“What seems to be the problem?” she tossed back, one side of her mouth twitching upward briefly before she got her amusement under control.

“You have no idea what you’ve done?” Mitch leaned in, elbows resting on the doorframe and inhaled deeply. “You got an explanation for the smell in here?”

She jerked to face him. That question wasn’t in their usual repartee. “
Smell?
”

His panty-melting grin exploded. “
Hmm
. Like sweet, hungry pussy.”

Holy moly.
Anna squirmed. “You’re mistaken. I’m not transporting any animals.”

“Get out of the vehicle. Now.” He jerked her door open.

Anna was in no hurry. Drawing out the tease, taunting him for a moment or two could only heighten the experience for them both. Make what was sure to follow that much more explosive.

Pleasure licked around her as she obediently stood beside her car, his gaze skimming over the curve of her breasts. Lower, over her hips, lingering on the length of legs left exposed by her short miniskirt. She’d strapped on high heels, not much more than bits of buttery soft leather wrapped around five-inch spikes, and he swore lightly at the sight of them, fiery red against the dull grey gravel.

Screw it if the stilettos were impractical. This was her fantasy, and for the next half hour she’d damn well wear what she wanted.

A growl escaped Mitch as she pushed him to the edge of control. He squatted, one finger tracing the line of leather around her ankle and up the back of her calf to tease the sensitive skin behind her knee. “You have a license for those weapons?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

The passion in his eyes burned as he glanced upward. “Hands against the car.”

Anna glanced around cautiously as she twisted to obey. Double-checking there were no farmers using the remote shortcut to move bailers or haul hay from field to shed. Nothing to break the mood. No observers.

Although in theory the idea of being watched wasn’t unwelcome, getting caught playing kinky sex games in public with Mitch Thompson would not be a good thing.

He stepped behind her, heat increasing as the space between them narrowed. He patted her down, efficiently, quickly, but even the brief contact was enough to drive a moan from her lips.

“You like that, do you?” he growled. “Bet you’re hiding things from me.”

“Maybe,” she repeated, closing the distance to make contact between their hips. Her ass bumped his groin, and his hard-on digging into her butt just made things that much hotter. “You’d better check. Thoroughly.”

“Strip search.” His hands slipped over her hips, one dropping to cup her sex, the other up past her breasts to rest lightly over her throat. His lips hovered only inches from her ear, close enough the scruff on his chin and cheeks scratched her skin. “You get me so damn hot I’m ready to rip your clothes off and fuck you right here,” he confessed.

Anna rubbed them together again, all too pleased at the tormented sound she dragged from him. “No need to rip anything,” she panted.

Mitch bunched her skirt under his fingers, cursing loudly as he met nothing but bare skin. Totally bare.

“Sweet fuck, you shaved.”

“Waxed. Oh
God
, don’t stop.”

He’d slipped his fingers over her pussy, delving between her labia to get his fingers wet before circling her clit. “Bare pussy. Wet bare pussy. Jesus
fuck
, woman. You think I can just stick my cock in you, and be done?”

“Good by me,” she insisted. No need to stop for condoms either—thank God for clean health records and efficient birth control. A gasp escaped as he pushed a finger deep inside. “Mitch, just do me already.”

He twirled her, his eyes blazing with lust as he pushed her shoulders against the car. “No.”

He took her lips before she could protest, kissing her like he did damn near everything. High speed, high intensity, igniting high-octane flames that lit her inside and out. His tongue licked into her mouth, his fingers cleverly undoing the elastic that had held her hair in a neat ponytail. She wrapped her arms around his neck in the hopes of keeping him close. It was no use, though, as he pulled away far too soon and put his teeth to her neck, a hand slipping between them to resume tormenting her clit with a steady rhythm.

“Don’t taunt me,” Anna begged. “I was ready for sex five minutes after you called me this morning.”

“Hmm. You’ve been hot and aching all day?”

Another round of skillfully applied pressure slid over her clit, and her hips jerked involuntarily. “Aching so hard.”

“Did you play with yourself?” he asked, easing off slightly, his thumb pulsing in a faint unending beat. “Did you have to hide somewhere so you could slip your fingers into your panties? Did you think about me shoving my cock deep inside you again and again until you scream?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

Mitch pulled back, and she whimpered in protest. She reached for him, but he shook his head, that evil grin back in place as he eased away far enough he could leer at her. “Show me,” he demanded.

There was no ignoring the command, and hell if she wanted to. At this point, if he wasn’t going to deal with her…

He dropped to his knees so as she slid her fingers down to touch herself, his head was only inches away. She stroked lightly to stop from bursting into flames in under three seconds.

“Give me your hand,” Mitch ordered.

She held it out, and he caught her wrist, licking her fingers one at a time. The rough contrast of his tongue over the pads of her fingers teased her senses. He moved her hand, and she shook, leaning harder on the car to stop from melting to the ground as he used her own wet fingers to play with her clit. Slipping between her folds and stroking her to a feverish pitch.

“Mitch, please.” Begging came all too easy at this point. “Give me your cock.”

“Come first. Come on my tongue.” He put his lips to her pussy, driving his tongue deep, fucking her with it as he worked her fingers over her clit again and again.

A long, low cry flowed from her lips, trembling in the air like the nearby leaves as the first wave of her orgasm hit her. Hips bucking forward, aching for something to hold, her pussy contracted and she called out his name.

He was on his feet, zipper down, cock in hand. She stared through sex-hazed eyes at the momentary glint as the ball bearings adorning his cock head shone in the sunlight. He hitched her thigh over his hip, her skirt bunched around her waist.

“Hold on, this is going to be a wild ride,” Mitch promised.

He put the head of his cock to her pussy and thrust upward. One motion, another. It took three drives for him to work all the way in, her climax still rippling around him.

Then the fucking began in earnest.

Mitch leaned over her, holding under her thigh to keep her wide open, his other hand under her ass, protecting her as he pounded in deep. Hard.

Incredibly intense and vivid, and like always, Anna came alive. This was what she craved—this bright place of indulgence and passion. Every nerve on high alert, every motion a spark leading to the next level of pleasure.

“God, so tight around my cock. You’re squeezing me like a vise. You like fucking out here, don’t you? My cock drilling you in two.”

“Oh,
yes
.”

Mitch growled again and thrust harder. “Dirty girl. Bare-ass-naked under your skirt. Sun shining down on us—hell, anyone could drive up right now, couldn’t they?”

Anna shuddered.

“Hmm, yeah. They’d see you, legs open wide, pussy wet for my cock.” Mitch caught her by the chin and kissed her like a mad man as he fucked hard for another dozen strokes.

Sensory overload was setting in. It wasn’t just his cock. Or his touch, or his teeth digging into her neck. It was the words and the place and the…

“Oh God,
oh
…”

His piercing got her again, a cascade breaking from deep within where he’d been stroking her unmercifully with the damn thing. She had no chance of stopping a second climax from ripping free, especially with a thick, satisfying length of cock to squeeze around this time.

“Fuck
yes
, come on my cock, babe. That’s it. Fuck me hard,” Mitch ordered.

He shoved his hand between them and caught her clit. Anna screamed, all restraint vanishing as she came, liquid shooting from her pussy to coat his hand, his legs. Pressure escaped in spurts, her spine melted, and pleasure turned her limbs molten.

Numbing pleasure, incredibly intense. “Oh my
God
, oh
my God
.”

She’d breathe later, she decided. Right now there was too much happening between her legs to bother with incidentals like air to her lungs and blood to her brain.

“Jesus
fuck
, yeah. Damn.” Mitch buried himself deep and came, his body crushing her to the car as his hips pulsed helplessly, face contorted with extreme pleasure. Anna watched as long as she could, but white spots hung before her eyes and it was so much simpler to close them and let Mitch support her.

A breeze surrounded them, cooling air pushed over heated limbs. Her heart rate slowed enough that the buzz of tiny insects in the trees and the distant motors of farm equipment became audible again. Mitch held her in place, both feet off the ground with her bare ass pressed against the car window, and in the middle of the languid sensation controlling her body, the image struck her as hilariously funny.

Mitch breathed slowly before finding his voice. “What’s making you laugh?”

Her world was still spinning. “I think I just left an ass print on my window.”

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rocky Mountain Heat

Copyright © 2011 by Vivian Arend

Rocky Mountain Rebel

Copyright © 2013 by Vivian Arend

Rocky Mountain Angel

Copyright © 2012 by Vivian Arend

Rocky Mountain Freedom

Copyright © 2013 by Vivian Arend

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