Tell Me You Want Me (Search and Seduce 2)

Reluctantly, she pulled back, and both of them seemed a little unsteady.

“There,” she said breathlessly. “I used the tools I had to shut you up, which makes my situation better.” She glanced down at the impressive rod tenting his pants. “And it would appear I improved your situation, too.”

She bent down, picked up her notebook, flipped to the sexy list, and crossed off, “Kiss a stranger.”

She popped the notebook shut, put it back in her bag, and smiled. When G.I. Joe realized what she’d just pulled, he didn’t look happy, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made their situation better, worse, or complicated.

Either way, she wasn’t feeling cold anymore.

Chapter Three

Dex had his shelter set, a fire going, and now with the sun setting, he sat back and watched the sexy, pain in the ass princess huff and puff and fail at getting her own shelter completed for the night.

“How’s it going over there?” he called. She was maybe twenty feet in front of him and doing God knew what with some sticks and branches.

“It’s great!’ she called, then sprinkled some grass along her poor excuse for a hut. “See, I can do this just fine.”

“Yep, you sure showed me,” Dex said, threading his fingers and placing them behind his head to recline against the tree behind him. A tarp was pulled tight above his head, making an A-frame tent of sorts that would hold up against wind, rain, and other elements if needed. He had a cozy spot against the thick oak and his Grizzly two-person sleeping bag rolled out and ready to go. Not because he ever had a company in his bag, but he was a mover in his sleep, and he was well aware he was already built large. Regular bags were too clingy.

Yep, he was ready, set, and all he could think about was Perfect-Ass Barbie’s notebook. More specifically, her To Do lists. Yeah, he’d caught a glimpse of them. There were different categories. Woman was on a mission of some kind. But the one that stuck out was the sexual fantasy category.

He’d read enough to know that she was looking for some fun in the sack. More specifically, fun in the sack, outside, and from behind.

His cock throbbed thinking of her delicate penmanship and the words she’d written.

Reverse cowgirl.

Penetration from behind.

Spankings.

Restraint—but not too restrained. Light bondage. But not too light.

Perform oral pleasure—possibly at the same time as receiving, if applicable.

Oh, it’s applicable, princess.

He smiled, recalling all he’d gotten a chance to read. Even her list was adorable, and he could almost picture her frowning and biting her lip while she wrote out all these ideas. The rich girl was looking to have a wild streak. That much was clear, and damn, if he didn’t respond to that.

She huffed again, and his gaze snapped back to her still struggling with her camp.

She had a heap of sticks she was currently trying to squeeze said perfect ass underneath.

“You sure you don’t want my help?” he called out again. “You said so yourself that I’m a useful tool, after all.”

She hit him with a soft, stern glare, and those baby blues did a number on his chest.

“No, thank you. I’ve got this.”

She definitely didn’t have this. But he had to give her credit. She was tenacious and persistent. All the other yuppies he’d taken on these excursions did jack shit. They made Dex set up camp and start the fire, and once he’d even had to uncork the fucking wine they’d brought. Not this woman, though. Yeah, she was wealthy and a yuppie just like the others. Something he’d be smart to remember. But she was also crawling around, working hard in her expensive clothes, getting…dirty.

And it was a fucking sexy look on her.

All that red hair was slowly coming loose. Strands framed her face, and her ivory skin was getting flushed with hard work and a bit of cold that was picking up in the air.

He ran a hand over his cock that was still hard from that sneaky little kiss she’d delivered an hour ago. Just replaying the feel of her lush mouth, her taste, and he was in bad shape from wanting her.

His mother had always warned him that he was never a bull in a china shop; he was a poor kid in a jewelry store. He wanted the classy, sparkly, beautiful piece, but he wasn’t the kind of guy who could afford it. Didn’t stop him from wanting it, though. And Michelle was beyond class and beauty. She was his personal brand of fuck yeah.