We woke up the next day to more driving rain. And it didn’t let up or stop for our entire daylong trip back to Cusco. The sky was dark, almost black. Even during midday, the clouds hung low and ominous, big droplets falling hard and heavy and drenching everything in seconds. I secretly hoped that I’d get to ride on a train. The track that ran through the center of town had been so quaint and old world, I couldn’t wait to hop aboard and hear the whistle and feel the side-to-side jostle as we made our way through the Andes.

And we were on the train, and it did whistle and jostle, and when I looked out the window and saw looming peaks, jagged and foreboding, I was happy that we’d opted NOT to hike the Inca trail and instead embrace our twenty-first-century selves and the glory of technology and rapid transit. But when the smell of damp coat and exhausted backpacker settled in the air, the stuffy, musty, recycled air around the cramped train car, I began to re-think things.

Derrick’s hand found mine. “Not long now, I think.”

I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, positively exhausted, even though I’d done nothing but sit all day. “What happens after we get off the train?” I yawned, a sudden chill catching me and making me shiver. He reached for the alpaca blanket he’d bought and draped it over the both of us.

“I think we catch a bus back to Cusco.”

I nodded and snuggled in tight to him. “Good.”

I wasn’t asleep, because how on earth could I sleep on the train? It was noisy, stinky and shook like a paint mixer, but I was in some kind of half-unconscious purgatory when a curious hand made its way between my legs. My eyes flashed open, and I looked up at Derrick. Not wanting to cause too much of a scene, I didn’t bother removing my head from his shoulder.

His eyes smoldered, and with his free hand he brought one finger to his lips and shushed me. His big blanket covered us, and my small day backpack lay nestled on my lap and against my chest, so even though I was very much aware of his exploratory fingers, no one else on the train car could possibly be.

I wore loose fitting cargo pants; they earned zero points in the fashion department but were a solid ten when it came to function and comfort. Derrick’s finger slid beneath the waistband and, thanks to the looseness of the pants, he had ample room to work. Slowly, very slowly, he began rubbing devious little circles around my clit, so gentle, so slight but with more than enough enthusiasm to make my whole body spark to wanton life.

I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. His head rested against mine, and his eyes were closed; the man was pretending to sleep! Meanwhile, beneath the covers, he was tormenting my body until I was just about ready to explode. Was I supposed to come? Would he be upset if I didn’t? Would he punish me later if I wasn’t able to come? Oh, maybe I wanted to be punished. Hmm.

“What’s uh…what’s the plan?” I whispered, pretending to kiss his cheek, and deciding I didn’t need to pretend at all, and I pecked him on the side of the face.

He tilted his head down, his lips next to my ear. To anyone watching we would just appear to be a young couple in love, innocently chatting, and we were chatting, only there wasn’t a damned thing innocent about it.

“You’re going to come for me, and you’re going to come hard. In a train, full of people, you’re going to get your rocks off, and only you and I will know. And if you don’t, I’m going to tan your ass with my belt when we get back to Cusco, is that clear?”

Oh, my God, yes, please! I swallowed and nodded.

“I need to hear it, Piper, say it.” The dominant, the sexy authoritarian, demanding and not requesting. I wanted to please him so badly.

“Yes , I understand.”

“Good.” His fingers continued their exquisite torture. Around and around and around they went, brushing my clit and then delving deeper into my cleft, back and forth, around and around, up and down, fucking me senseless until I could barely stand it. I was slick with need and wanted desperately to buck my hips up into his hand, but I knew I couldn’t; it would draw far too much attention.

“You’re close,” he said, his voice a breath above a whisper. “Get ready to come for me, baby.” He pinched my clit, and I shattered into a million tiny pieces. All I could do was close my eyes and pray nobody noticed my ragged breathing. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and let the waves of pleasure ripple through me as I rode out the orgasm.

“Good girl.” He pecked me on the forehead. “Good girl.”

I whimpered softly as the climax dissolved, leaving my body limp and boneless, and then I slumped against him and closed my eyes with a sigh.

“You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever met,” he said into my hair, planting another kiss to my temple this time and pulling me closer. “But you weren’t quiet enough. I saw the man across the aisle look up, so I’m still going to punish you when we get back to Cusco.”

My head snapped up, and my eyes widened, while my heartbeat, which had returned to rest, picked up the pace again. He just grinned at me, pulled me close again and winked. “And you’re going to love it.”

* * *

It was pouring rain when we arrived in the tiny town of Ollantaytambo, only to stand there, for over an hour, in the dark and the cold, waiting for our bus. It had apparently gotten stuck in the mud on some mountaintop dirt road and was being rescued by another bus. I was shivering uncontrollably and soaked from head to toe, with nary a cover or a building to crawl and hide under. It was nighttime, and the town, if you could even call it that, was closed up and quiet.

“It says here...” Derrick started, his nose once again buried in his ratty copy of The Ultimate Traveler, as we stood there huddled up under my tiny one-person travel umbrella. He started prattling on about more facts, but I was too cold, too soaked to my skin to listen.

I rolled my eyes but was unable to hide my smile. Despite how bloody cold it was, the man was so mercurial. One minute he was this sultry Dom, using his fingers to get me off in the middle of a crowded train and threatening to spank me if I made a sound, and then the next minute he’s all sexy nerd. He was seriously the whole damn package, smart, funny, kind and an absolute beast in the sack.

He caught me chuckling at him, and his head popped up, his eyes turning dark, or at least I think they did. It was hard to tell; the only light we had outside came from the one lonely streetlamp, and even that was flickering.

“Are you laughing at me, Miss Valentine?”

I shook my head, though my whole body was shaking, both from the cold and from suppressed laughter. “No, not me, not me at all.”

He stuffed his book in his backpack and then grabbed me by the arm, whisking me through the crowd, our hiking boots sloshing in the mud. We made our way around a small building, and although I wasn’t entirely confident of what it was, based on the way it peaked at the back I would guess it was a small church. It was almost pitch black now, we couldn’t see the lonely streetlamp flickering, and because of the rain, there was no moon and no stars. My face was drenched, as were my clothes, but that didn’t seem to stop Derrick from ripping off my bag and throwing me up against the wall, his mouth, wet and hot coming down hard against mine.

“I want you, here and now,” he said with a deep growl as he began making quick work of the drawstring on my pants. I heard the zip and fumble of fabric as he struggled to free himself, but wet clothes and wet hands combined with the cold made for a challenge. And what was supposed to be quick and dirty, and fucking in seconds, awkwardly turned into the two of us shivering and struggling to pull our very wet pants down our legs.

Eventually, we managed. Determination trumped frustration, and within a minute or two we were both standing there with only one pant leg on, the other leg bare and quickly becoming numb. Derrick’s eyes found mine again, his face nothing more than shadows, but I didn’t have to see his face to feel his savage need, to feel his craving for me, because I felt it too.

I leaped up onto his hips, and he ploughed me into the wall, sheathing himself to the hilt. My back slammed against the rough damp wood, scratching my butt with each hard thrust, while my hair clung to my neck and face.

“Oh God!” His teeth found my chin and his hands cupped my ass, his fingers kneading my frozen flesh.

“Yes…” I panted. “Oh God, yes, please.”

“Can’t…get enough. I can’t get enough of you. Never…never enough.”

I squeezed my muscles around him, drawing him in, wanting more of him, all of him. My hands clawed up his back, searching for skin. I lifted up the back of his shirt and sweater, letting my hands delve beneath the fabric, finally finding flesh, the toned muscles contracting as he bucked into me with all his might. The man was insatiable —and I loved it!

We heard the crunch of gravel off in the distance and the noise and voices of what could only be people getting ready to board a recently arrived bus. We were far enough away that no one would be able to hear us, and we couldn’t make out any specifics, but the new light off in the distance, what I could only assume were headlights, had us picking up vigor, eager to finish but knowing we also needed to run.

A wave of panic rushed over me. “We…we have to go.” But everything felt so good, too good to stop. His pelvic bone rubbed against my clit just right, while his cock hit me deep, deep inside. I bit my lip to contain my screams.

“Just…a second.” His breath was ragged and his voice strained as he wedged one hand between us, his fingers, like they had on the train, rubbing roughly across my clit, only this time they were ice cold, and the sudden temperature change made me gasp. “I’m going to come, babe.” His thrusts began to wane while his fingers picked up speed. “Can you come?”

I nodded. “I-I think so.”

“Okay…”

Three more pumps, my head hitting the wood behind me, he brought my clit between his finger and thumb and pinched, and I went off like a rocket. Sharp teeth came down on my neck as he found his own release, his body stilling as he poured himself into me, groaning low and masculine and so freaking sexy. He licked his bite mark, not that he drew blood, and then pulled away, righting himself and tucking himself

back into his pants. I quickly ducked off into the shadows to pee, having to squat and shake, just like I’d been forced to do up on Machu Picchu, shaking my head with a smile at this man and his unconventional location choices for making whoopee.

I pulled my pants back up and found my backpack, joining him next to the building. He reached for my hand, and without a word, we took off running toward the bus.

Only it wasn’t a bus at all, it was a minivan, one suitable for a small summer camp, and it was just beginning to pull away as we ran up. Derrick started waving his arms emphatically and then practically hurled himself in front of the vehicle, only I pulled him back by the strap of his bag and started rapping on the window with my frozen knuckles.

The van stopped, and the man in the passenger seat opened the door.

“Sorry, dude,” Derrick said, flashing him a bright but drenched grin. “We went off to find shelter.”

The man opened the sliding door of the van, and the whole cab lit up. Roughly twelve wet, cold and exhausted faces stared back at us. Was there room for two more? Apparently, there was, because everybody shuffled and squeezed, and eventually I found myself wedged in tight next to Derrick and a girl with dreadlocks. We all had our bags on our laps, the smell from the train nothing compared to the smell in the van. It was as though the train had been the eau de toilette of backpackers and the van was the essential oil, highly concentrated and potent. Wet coats, dirty bodies, and B.O. mixed and mingled to create a scent all its own. I dug one of my scarves out of my bag and wrapped it around my neck, sinking my neck down until my mouth and nose were covered, creating kind of a filter.

A hand found mine amongst the layers of saturated fabric and bags, cold fingers linking with mine. I squeezed back and then let my head fall to his shoulder. We were due to fly back to Lima tomorrow afternoon. This was our last night together. His flight to Santiago was the following night, and when we got back to Cusco, I was going to book a flight home. I was done with Peru. Though I couldn’t say, I was eager to get back to reality and the boring, unfulfilling jobless life that awaited me.

I was thankful all of a sudden for the dark and quiet van, everyone inside feeling the same way —bone tired. And although I was tired of a lot of things, tired from the day, tired of running, tired of looking over my shoulder and wondering why the hell I was a target, I wasn’t tired of Derrick. And the lone tear that made its way down my cheek as we bumped along the dark and muddy road was evidence that I wasn’t just not tired of him. I was falling for him as well. I was falling hard.