Take Me Hiking

Fair warning: this story involves hiking boots, bad ideas, and three fantasies that started as a dare and ended up somewhere neither of us expected.

Rachel is a painter with a very specific kind of courage. The kind that makes you propose a three-day fantasy challenge to a man you met on a trail, say it out loud before you can take it back, and then absolutely have to follow through. Tig is the kind of man who hears that plan and doesn’t flinch. Which is honestly its own kind of dangerous.

The mountains are real. The feelings got a little out of hand. That’s the part nobody warns you about.

More books, more stories, the whole world: www.kiralorneromance.com. Come find us when you’re done.

Okay. Trail starts here. Try to keep up.

Kira

Take Me Hiking

An Erotic Outdoor Fantasy Off the Beaten Path

By Kira Lorne

It started six weeks ago with a collision. Literally. At a fork in the trail.

Tig came down from the west ridge, shirtless, thighs flexing with each step, sunlight catching on the sweat slicking his chest. He looked like the kind of man who’d fight a bear for you and enjoy it.

Rachel had been taking the lower switchbacks, her tank top stuck to the curve of her back, a splash of dried paint still clinging to her thigh from god-knows-when. She looked like the kind of woman who’d laugh during sex and bite your shoulder when she came.

They stared.

“Trail merge,” she said, eyeing the flannel tied around his waist like it was a suggestion.

“Seems like it.” He didn’t move. Just let her look.

They hiked the rest of the day together, an unspoken dare threading through every glance. By the time they hit the campground pizzeria, his hand had found the small of her back when she reached for a napkin and hadn’t moved away. In her tent later, her mouth found his neck and he nearly shredded her sleeping bag trying to get her out of her shorts.

They hadn’t spent a night apart since.

Now. Six weeks later. Somewhere wilder.

Rachel lay sprawled across the back seat of Tig’s Land Cruiser, one boot tapping the window as she read the trail map upside down.

“This one has caves, waterfalls, and...” She smirked. “Places to hide and misbehave.”

Tig reached over and tugged the waistband of her hiking shorts. “You say that like we ever behave.”

She arched into the seat, grinning. “Point taken.”

He leaned in and kissed the side of her knee, slow and deliberate. That was his tell. When Tig wanted her, he always started there. Something about that specific softness, that unhurried mouth on the inside of her knee, made her feel chosen in a way she hadn’t expected from a man she’d met on a dirt path six weeks ago. She shivered, windows down, air thick, heart already running ahead of the rest of her.

They parked at the trailhead and stepped into the trees. The air was pine and dust and that particular tension that followed them everywhere. An itch behind the teeth. A promise between steps.

They walked for miles, hips brushing on narrow paths, until the trail widened at a high ledge overlooking a creek below.

Rachel tugged Tig forward by the hem of his tank top. “Water’s down there.”

“Yeah?”

“Bet it’s cold,” she teased, fingers dipping just under the waistband of his shorts.

“I could cool you off right now.” His voice dropped low. “Or heat you up.”

She kissed him, open-mouthed, hungry. The kind of kiss that left no room for air, no room for thought. He pressed her against a pine, bark rough against her tank top, tongue sliding deep as his hand slipped under her shirt. No bra. Just skin. He groaned into her mouth like she’d done something to him just by existing.

“Tig,” she whispered, breath catching.

“Yeah?”

“Unzip your pack.”

He raised a brow, already tugging down his fly.

“No, your pack. The real pack. Your backpack,” she giggled. “Although we basically had the same idea.”

He zipped his pants back up, smirking. “Right. Pack.”

Rachel bit his lip. “That’s not a problem.”

He growled, that low, primal sound that always made her thighs clench, and unzipped the pack.

She tugged at his shorts again, more insistent now, her voice curling around that wicked little smirk he’d learned to fear and crave in equal measure.

“Okay, listen,” she said, thumb brushing just above the button. “We’ve done three hikes together, right? But now we’ve got three days. No cell service. No schedule. Just us.”

Tig’s eyes narrowed, mouth twitching. “You’re planning something.”

“Not planning. Proposing.”

She slid closer, lips grazing his jaw. “Three days. Three hikes. And each day, I surprise you with something I’ve been thinking about. Something I want. A fantasy. Something I want you to do to me.”

He exhaled slowly. “You’ve been thinking about this?”

“Relentlessly,” she whispered. “Since night two. You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted to keep up with me like this.”

That landed somewhere real in his chest. He looked her over, eyes hungry, trying to decide if she knew what she’d just given him. “And today’s fantasy?”

She pulled the trail map from his back pocket, flipped it open, and traced a curve with her nail. “See this bend in the creek? There’s a pool just past the rocks. Private. Deep. The kind of water that makes your nipples ache the second you slide in.”

He swallowed. “Sounds invigorating.”

Her eyes gleamed. “I want you to fuck me in it.”

He blinked. “In the water.”

She nodded. “Right there. I want you to hold me against the rocks, my legs wrapped around you. I want the cold of the creek and the heat of your cock. I want to hear the slap of the water echo off stone while you’re inside me.”

Tig was already hard, thick and pressing against his shorts. He glanced at the trail, then back at her. She was watching him with that particular patience she had, the kind that wasn’t really patience at all but certainty.

“Jesus, Rach.”

“Tomorrow, something kinkier,” she whispered, tugging him forward by the front of his tank. “Next day... let’s just say I’ve got a thing for ropes and trees. But for now? First fantasy. Fill it.”

He didn’t need convincing.

They were halfway down the slope before he yanked her into a grove of ferns, kissing her hard and fast, his hands everywhere. She laughed against his mouth, breathless, stripping off her shirt as they stumbled toward the edge of the creek.

The pool shimmered ahead. Clear. Cold. Waiting.

Rachel stepped in first, water rushing around her calves, then thighs, then hips, until she gasped and turned to face him. Her nipples were already tight, her eyes wild with that specific hunger she never tried to hide from him, and god, he loved that about her.

“Don’t just stand there, Tig,” she called, voice playful and sharp. “I invited you in.”

He was already unbuttoning his shorts.

Tig stepped into the creek and immediately hissed through his teeth. “Jesus Christ, it’s cold.”

Rachel grinned, water lapping at her ribs as she waded back toward him. “You’re not backing out on day one of my fantasy weekend, are you?”

He stood ankle-deep, hands paused at the waistband. “I’m not backing out. I’m just... reevaluating my testicles’ relationship with you right now.”

She laughed and came to him slowly, water rippling around her thighs. “Come on, woodsman,” she purred, running a hand up his arm. “You’ve handled me with ropes, flannel, and a pocketknife. You can handle a little cold.”

“I don’t want to be little,” he growled.

Her eyes dropped to his shorts. “Ah. I see the problem.”

She dropped to her knees in the water, which surged up to her chest with a splash. “Let me help.”

Tig opened his mouth, but the words caught as Rachel reached forward and slid his shorts down. His cock was half-hard from anticipation, retreating slightly in protest at the cold. She wrapped one hand around him gently, the other bracing against his thigh as she leaned in.

“I love how your body fights back,” she murmured, her breath hot on him. “But I always win.”

She kissed the head first, slow and lingering, then traced the rim with her tongue before taking him into her mouth. The cold water only made her mouth feel hotter, silken and deliberate, drawing him to full hardness with every slow stroke of her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing and she knew that he knew, and that was half the pleasure of it.

Tig’s hands dropped to her slick hair, fingers twisting in it, breath coming hard. “Rachel. Fuck.”

She moaned around him, just enough to vibrate, then pulled back with a soft pop and looked up at him, eyes glinting.

“Better?”

He looked wrecked already. “You have no idea.”

Rachel stood, nipples peaked, water running off her like she’d just surfaced from sin itself. “Good. Because I want you harder than the rocks you’re about to press me against.”

Tig didn’t need another word. He lifted her with a growl, hands under her thighs, her body slick and laughing against him. They stumbled into the deeper part of the pool, Rachel wrapping her legs around his waist as he pressed her to the smooth rock wall. Cold water be damned, he was throbbing, ready, sliding against her soaked heat as she reached down to guide him in.

And then he was inside her.

Rachel cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, water slapping around them as he began to thrust. The contrast was electric, her tight burning warmth wrapped around him, the water stinging their skin, every movement echoing off stone. She pressed her forehead against his temple and just breathed him in for one suspended second before the rhythm took over completely.

“God, Tig. Yes. Just like that.”

He growled into her neck, gripping her ass as he slammed deeper. “You really want me to scream like an elk?”

“I want the whole forest to hear,” she panted, rolling her hips to meet him.

The creek was loud.

But not as loud as Rachel when she came.

They were back on the trail, clothes damp, hair wild, walking slower than before. Rachel’s hiking shorts clung in all the wrong ways, and Tig kept sneaking glances that weren’t remotely subtle.

“Okay,” he said, wiping water from his brow. “So that’s what you meant by ‘fantasy hike.’ I was picturing, like... hammocks.”

Rachel laughed, full and unfiltered. “You didn’t seem to mind once I had your cock in my mouth.”

He mock-gasped. “Wow. No romance. No mystery. Just slander in the open woods.”

She shoved him playfully. “It’s not slander if it’s true.”

They hit a small clearing where sunlight poured through the trees, dappled and golden. Rachel stopped suddenly, wincing.

“Oh. Shit. Okay, wait.”

Tig turned, concerned. “What’s wrong?”