The Erotic Expeditions - Complete Collection (13 page)

He entered her slowly, savoring the gentle urges of her hips. As though she sensed his need, she never took her eyes from his face. Her hands found the small of his back and, as he pulled back and then moved into her again, her hands pushed. Over again and over, he kept their rhythm steady.
 

And then he felt her legs shift.

The pressure of her hands was replaced by her lower legs. He glanced behind him to find her calves crossed over the top of his buttocks. Her pelvis tilted up to a new angle and as he moved into her, he sank deeper than he had thought possible. His arms straightened as he bowed and pushed in. His chest welled upward and his head went back as a deep and guttural moan that began in his groin finally emerged from his throat.

He brought his hips back against the pressure of her calves and sank himself again. She tilted her pelvis even higher.

“Oh my god,” he murmured.

She was opening herself in a way she hadn’t before, in a way he didn’t know existed–in a way that he needed very much. Suddenly, he thought of filling her, of erupting so far inside her that she would feel the same heat that he felt.

Now his hips moved of their own accord. With nothing to resist him, he worried that he thrust too hard. But the pressure on his buttocks said no. She was gasping with every entrance, faster and faster, as he thrust with abandon.

His head still tilted back, his chest heaving, his grunts came from deep inside–sharp and loud, like an animal. He felt her hands on his chest and then, without warning, she shocked him to the core. As his hips drew back, she grasped his nipples.

• • • • •

Sweat rolled down the center of his chest, as Emily struggled not to climax. He was pumping now as though his life depended on it and she couldn’t see his expression. His thrusts, so achingly tender in the beginning, had taken on an urgency she hadn’t expected. Now, as they thudded home, she felt his hardness so deep that she had to groan anew at each one. Each time his groin fell into hers, she felt vibrations that spread outward.

She placed her hands on his rib cage and pushed up. He moved into her even faster as his torso curved. He was completely oblivious except for the sudden ramp up in the movement of his hips. She felt his buttocks bunching and releasing. He grunted at the ceiling as he thrust over and over.

Her hands slid over his nipples to grasp his pecs. Again his pelvis responded without him knowing but his rhythm started to falter. His thrusts came more quickly than he could control. The new energy moved the vibrations of his impact up to her sweet spot and, without thinking, she grasped his nipples.

The effect was instantaneous.

He immediately thickened and thrust–so deep inside her, she cried out with the brief pain of it. Then his head whipped forward, his face in utter shock. As he fell to one elbow, his eyes squeezed shut, his face contorted in anguish.
 

Oh my god, Emily suddenly thought. Had it been too much?

But his hips had never stopped moving and, despite the panting wail that now came from him, she kept hold of his nipples. His torso flexed against hers and his other arm collapsed. It seemed like he was trying to get his balance but his pelvis wouldn’t cooperate. She ought to let go but her own desire was spiraling out of control. His frantic gasps and the weight of his body sent a shudder through hers. His climax was throbbing in waves along his length and it vibrated her mound with its intensity.

As his elbow collapsed and he started to slide off her, she realized he was rolling her to the top.

She leaned forward onto her sweet spot and let her fingers press into his nipples. He gasped and thickened all over again and, out of nowhere, her climax exploded.
 

She clenched with everything in her as the air escaped her lungs. Bright lights went off behind her eyelids and a flood of heat surged up through her. As he bucked underneath, she grasped his waist and felt herself lifted off her knees.

She cried out as the climax took over. The only thing she knew was the burning. It was between their groins and then it was shooting through her. It was at her sweet spot and then her nipples. Every bit of her skin was tingling. Her entire body shook as wild spasms rocked it. She dragged in a halting breath, only to find she was crying out again. And finally, she heard what she cried out–Austin.

The syllables wrenched themselves from her aching throat as her body convulsed in ecstasy. He was still inside her. He was still thrusting. And she clenched again.
 

She heard him now in a loud groan and his lower back finally fell to the bearskin. The sudden impact of her weight made him grunt. His torso rose in front of her and she felt his knees behind her back–just in time as the continued gyrations of her pelvis forced her back. And still she tried to moan his name.
 

“Austin,” she rasped in a tired throat. “Austin.”

She lay back against his knees now, her arms hanging at her sides, as her clench released only to be replaced by another.

“Oh god,” she whispered, as her head lolled back, and her pelvis continued to convulse.

“Emily,” she heard Austin say.

He was sitting up and holding her but his length was still inside.

“Austin,” she whispered, as her hips jerked against him. “Aust–”
 

Her swollen sweet spot hit him and her whole body shuddered. She sucked in a breath and, as the shuddering slowly died away, she exhaled.

He was laying her down now. She felt the soft fur behind her, then felt him nuzzle into her side. His hand was on her stomach and she managed to cover it with her own.

As the world faded to black, she just barely heard his murmur.

“My Emily.”

• • • • •

Something smelled
so
good. Emily slowly opened her eyes. She lay curled on her side on the polar bear skin. The subtle light of the room said that it was still early morning.

“Austin,” she tried to say but her voice barely came out a whisper.

She cleared her throat and the metal camping pot appeared on the fur. She sat up. A couple of tea bags floated inside making her smile. She looked up to see Austin holding a bag of pasta and a spork.
 

“I think you better drink something before you eat,” he said, smiling at her.

He picked up the pot by the rim and held it out for her. She took it in both hands, still warm to the touch but not hot. Before she’d realized it, she’d nearly drained the entire pot.

“Um, good,” Austin said, surprised.

He set it down and then sat crossed legged in front of her, both of them still naked.

As he pulled open the pouch, steam rose from it.
 

Her stomach gurgled in response. He laughed a little as he dipped the spork in the bag, raised the pasta to his lips and gently blew. Then he slowly held it out to her.
 

Was he going to feed her?

He moved the spork closer to her lips and pointedly looked at them.

She opened her mouth and he gently tipped the pasta, meat sauce, and peas into it. As her lips closed around it and he gently tugged it back, he watched in fascination and a huge grin lit up his face. Then, he immediately took a bite himself. He looked up at her still grinning, obviously pleased with himself.

The bearskins, the flickering
kudlik
, and now breakfast.

Had she found a romantic?

He gave her another spoonful and she suddenly thought of their life together.
 

Would he be happy to travel with her as she took her assignments? Or was he the settling down type? A stationary lifestyle had never appealed to her but, with Austin, that would be different.

“I think we’re going to make a good team,” he said.

He’d been thinking of them too.

“Really?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, forgetting about the pasta for a second. “Did you know that the Inuit here are related to the Inuit in Greenland?”

“Related? They’re so far away.”

“Not really,” he said simply. “They’re just over there,” he said pointing out the window.

Emily cocked her head at it.

“On a flat map it looks like they’re on the other side of North America,” he said. “But on a globe, they’re just to the north of us.”

“Really?” Emily couldn’t help but say again.

“They do some things differently, of course,” he said and shrugged. “But I’ve always wanted to see for myself.”

“You have?” Emily said, excitement growing.
 

“If I’m going to become a worldwide expert in cold environment survival,” he said nodding, “then I’m going to need to see how it’s done all over the world.”

He sounded as though it were already accomplished. To anybody else, it would have sounded like the assurance of youth–when you could think of something and just know it’d happen because you thought of it. But Emily knew better. She knew her Austin. He was already a survivor. He’d proved it.

“I’ll introduce you,” she said, smiling.

When she saw the quizzical look on his face, she explained.

“I’ve already met a lot of the experts in most of those other places,” she said. “Let me tell you, you could already teach them a thing or two.”

Suddenly, she envisioned the team. She would document the survival techniques he practiced and they would live them out together–as a couple. It had never been done that way.

“You know, they make igloos in Greenland,” he said.

Her thoughts had drifted away and now she looked at him.

His sensuous lips were trying to hide a smile and she looked down at the pasta rather than giggle.

“Oh, you don’t say?” she said.

“Yep, in fact I was thinking we might need to bring these polar bear skins.”

She looked into his dark, smiling eyes.

“I’m sure of it,” she said.

DESERT THIRST

An Erotic Expedition Novella

PART 1

By Hazel Hunter

Lou wiped the sweat from her forehead as she shouldered the camera bag. It was spring, not yet midday, and already one hundred degrees. When the plane had taxied toward the lone building on the tarmac, the pilot of the Air France flight had rattled off the local conditions in Tamanrasset, her final destination in Algeria. The key conditions that struck her were the single digit humidity and the triple digit temperature.
 

As she emerged from the front hatch onto the metal stair landing, she shielded her eyes from the sun.

God it was
hot
–an intense heat unlike any other. Then again, it was the Sahara desert.

She shuffled in line with the men. Ever since leaving Algiers, she’d been the only woman except for the stewardesses. Stolen looks and not-so-stolen looks surrounded her.

Let them look
.
There’s nothing to see.

Although it was insufferable, she wore long sleeves and capri pants. Not only did local culture dictate it, the intensity of the sun on her fair skin did as well. As she slowly made her way down the stairs, sweat trickled from her temple and she wiped it away. Some of the heat she felt was the climate but some of it was
him
. She glanced at the terminal. Quinn would be waiting there.

Tall, gorgeous, and scary. That’s how one of the girls at the Washington D.C. office had described him but the group photo she’d posted on Facebook didn’t do him justice. Lou had discovered that on her first visit. But scary wasn’t the right word. There was
something
beneath his gruff exterior and it wasn’t soft or sensitive. It was hard, even dangerous, and it was anything but scary. It was irresistible.
 

She started down the stairs, grasped the rail to steady herself, but immediately yanked her hand back.

“Ow!” she exclaimed.

It was hot enough to burn! How quickly she’d forgotten.

The man below her paused and turned. He was smirking.

“Never touch metal in the desert,” he said in French.

Like most of the other men, he wore a white, short-sleeved shirt and long pants. His dark eyes glinted but never met hers. Instead, a few steps below her, they were level with her chest. He stared.

Lou drew her mouth into a tight line and quickly grasped the camera bag strap at her shoulder with both hands, using her arms to cover herself. She’d been about to make a retort when he turned, still smirking, and continued down the stairs.

She took the next few steps slowly, to keep away from the man below her, and didn’t touch the handrail. The checked luggage was already arranged in rows on the ground in the shadow of the plane.

Though it hardly seemed possible, the black surface of the tarmac was even hotter. As she bent to pick up her backpack, she felt the heat radiating upward. For once, she was glad for the thick-soled boots. She put on the large backpack and held the camera bag by the handle. It contained all the tech-gear that she couldn’t trust to the luggage system. The terminal building was only a couple hundred feet ahead. The line of passengers had broken up and the men were moving at different paces but the one who’d been in front of her was still nearby, looking at her with sidelong glances.
 

She ignored him. In a few moments, he’d want nothing to do with her. On the other side of that dark glass, Quinn would be waiting.
 

At least Lou hoped he was.

• • • • •

Quinn stood with his arms crossed, watching through the tall windows as the passengers headed across the blacktop. He’d recognized Lou the moment she’d exited the plane. Her red hair stood out like a beacon.

Few foreigners ventured this far into the south of Algeria–mostly people like himself or Lou, field agents for the World Wildlife Fund or working for some other international groups. There were also some adventure travelers and eco-tourists but they almost never travelled alone. Quinn scanned the men around Lou but no one spoke to her or even walked near. She seemed to be alone.

Where’s the partner?

He hadn’t looked closely at the email except for the date and time of her arrival. Technology frustrated him. He’d just assumed the guy would be with her. He watched with new interest as she approached and the men hung back around her, trying to get a look. The turquoise blouse hugged her curved figure. Along with the thin and clinging pants, she might as well be wearing a sign that said ‘look at me,’ which Quinn was content to do. Behind her, the metal gangway was empty and no more passengers were visible at the plane’s door.