Friday Night Bites

South Dakota

Javi had never done it in the open. And here he was, on a popular hiking trail—not so popular this late in the season—but still traveled and therefore exciting to the erotically-inclined part of his mind. 

 For the past five weeks Javi sometimes gave his arm a little pinch to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He had bagged the hottest chick this side of the Talkeetna mountain range. The woman was a sunlit diamond in a frozen forest: sweeping blonde hair, eyes bluer than deep glacial ice, alabaster skin warmed with peachy tones. And she was ambitious and tough and hard-headed, a mountain he sought to climb. In just five weeks Javi had been consumed by physical desire until even his brain burned with passion for the woman he viewed as the unbound queen of the north. He thought he might love her. And having never been in a relationship before, he knew, even if his love wasn't true, even if she didn't feel the same, he always would. He would always love her here, in this moment.

People like Dakota were rare. People like her were unforgettable.

Since graduating high school she'd been working toward inheriting her father's chain of fish and game stores. Had one of the best shots in the borough.  Drank beers and loved camping and hockey almost as much as he did.

Dakota was perfect for him, but Javi knew he didn't have the strength to hold onto a woman like her for long. Dakota knew it, too. She didn't mess around with what she wanted. She didn't play pretend or lead him on or make him think this might go past the winter when his contract with her daddy was complete. From the first moment they were alone—his room in her parents' attic hadn't even been unpacked yet—she went straight for the kill.

For his part, Javi rather liked being the prey, just like he rather liked not having to pay for expensive dinners or jewelry that a girl like her demanded. She wasn't wanting. Her parents had wealth and she'd do well enough on her own in a few years when she took over. He just couldn't afford to give her what he thought she deserved. A pretty throat like hers, beautiful ears, the curves of her body and lean legs: her physical stature demanded attention and fine goods. She never asked him for any of that, never asked to be worshiped (though in his young stallion's mind, he did). She knew the limits of his offerings, and she accepted it, him.

In the twilight vespers of a night filled with the Delphic magic of late October, Dakota was a zipper away from getting him again. Out in the open. Illuminated by nothing but the rising moon and a small lantern set to minimal light.

Well, he thought, settling into creaks of old wood on a bench overlooking the windswept mountainside. I may not marry her, but she's mine tonight. She'd always be his tonight. This was their night.

There was a giggle, a brief command, and then a rush of nippy air when she'd yanked his pants down.

Dakota had been named for the state she'd been conceived in.  She'd never say which state in particular, north or south, but Javi knew which cardinal direction she preferred.

Her lips skimmed the bare exposed skin of his thigh. She'd done it several times over the weeks, kissing him with that pretty pink mouth in places a woman had never kissed him before, but he jumped and squirmed all the same. Squirmed against the worn wooden bench, felt a sharp reminder not to move, and gripped the back of the chair to hold himself still.

South, oh yes!  South Dakota indeed!

A crackle of branches punctured the still fall air. Adrenaline courses through his veins in an electric surge. "Hey!" he whispered, frightened but unwilling to move.

The woman's head rose. Blonde hair fell gently against her cheek. "What?" she said with a breathy flush. 

"Someone's here."