Off Base

by Tessa Bailey

  She quickly escaped his stare, looking back at her brother and Kenna. They were an “us” now. A lump formed in her chest. She was happy for him … and envious.

  “Talk to her, Cullen.” Beck tore his gaze off Kenna’s knee and clapped Cullen on the shoulder. “Tell her she should move back home.”

  A flicker of something passed over Cullen’s face. Huntley held her breath, trying to read him, to decipher what it was she had seen there in that split second.

  “I don’t know,” Cullen answered slowly. “She should do what she wants. Do you want to move back home?” Air deflated from her lungs as Cullen lifted an eyebrow at her.

  “Well, Hunt? What do you want to do?” Beck prodded.

  She moistened her lips, her gaze stuck on Cullen. “I—I don’t know.”

  Cullen’s gaze dropped to his cake, cutting another bite as if her answer didn’t matter one way or the other to him. “I guess you better decide that first.”

  The next half hour passed in a miserable blur. What had she expected? For Cullen to declare himself? Announce that he loved her and needed her here? That kind of thing only happened in movies. Not. Her. Life.

  After accepting two slices of chocolate cake to go, Beck and Kenna left.

  Cullen made himself at home, busying himself in the kitchen, loading dishes into the dishwasher like it was any other night they were hanging out.

  Why couldn’t they have this all the time? Well, with the added bonus of sex, of course.

  She watched him for a moment, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter, admiring the way his jeans fit. God. How could she ever be in the same room with this man and not want to crawl inside him? Loading the last glass, he shut the dishwasher door and turned. His mouth curled up at one corner as he caught her watching him. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she rejoined. “You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t even dirty the majority of them.”

  “I don’t mind. And I fully intend to take some lasagna home with me.”

  So he wouldn’t be staying the night then?

  She moved into the living room and sank down on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her and willing the awkwardness between them to evaporate. She reached for the remote as he lowered beside her, glad to have something to occupy her hands.

  “Want to watch some TV?” She tried not to stare at his muscled thighs or the way his shirt rested against his flat stomach and cut pecs. “I think there’s a Vikings marathon on.” She barely made it to the right channel before warm fingers circled her ankle.

  She gasped and dropped the remote as he tugged her foot onto his lap. “What are you doing?” she choked.

  “Rubbing your feet. You’ve been on them all day.”

  She sighed in joy the moment his thumbs pushed down on the balls of her feet. Her body went limp and she melted into the couch. He was right. She had been on her feet all day. Even with the best shoes and massaging gel-cushioning inserts, her feet ached by the end of her shift. “That is amazing.”

  His eyes smiled down at her as the heel of his hand glided along her arch, exerting the perfect amount of pressure. Her feet wept for joy, but that wasn’t the only part of her reacting. Pleasure radiated from her feet and traveled up her legs, settling between her thighs. A low throb pulsed there as he cupped her heel and ground down on the flesh with the pad of his thumb. Sensation shot to every nerve in her body.

  “Ohhhh, your hands are amazing,” she moaned.

  His grin deepened. “I’ve been told.”

  She tossed one of the smaller couch cushions at his face. “I bet.”

  They fell into companionable silence, the awkwardness of earlier gone. She turned her face into the couch to stifle another moan. When his hands glided up her calves and started working into the tense flesh, she was lost. Her knees turned to pudding, falling slightly open in invitation.

  “Huntley?”

  “Hmm?”

  “We need to talk.”

  She frowned. She didn’t want to talk. Not right now. She just wanted him to keep doing delicious things to her with his hands. Maybe he could add his mouth next. She wouldn’t be opposed to him unsnapping his jeans either and taking out—

  “Huntley?” he pressed. “Last night …”

  Dread pooled in her. Nothing good would follow those words, she was sure.

  “It was good,” he continued, his thumb tracing circles on the inside of her leg. Her heart tripped inside her chest.

  Good? She snorted. That’s all it was to him? She pulled her legs away, tucking her knees against her chest.

  “But?” she said, her tone sharper than she intended. She propped her chin on her knees. “I can hear the ‘but’ in there. Is this where you let me down easy? You don’t have to do that, Cullen. I know you. I’m not one of your other women you have to evade.”

  “Other women?” His gaze narrowed on her face, the softness of his mouth disappearing as his lips hardened into an unsmiling line. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’re friends who just happened to sleep together. I get that. You don’t have to worry that I’ll want something more from you.”

  He leaned back on the couch, tossing his arm along the back in a casual pose that felt anything but casual despite his calm tone. “You done?”

  She nodded once, uncertain at his tone of voice.

  He continued, “So that’s it then? We just had a romp in the sheets and it’s out of our system now?”

  She nodded again, her uncertainty growing.

  “I see,” he said, looking away, his gaze falling on the TV.

  “We’re still friends. We’ll always be—”

  “Friends,” he inserted, looking at her sharply. “That’s what you want?”

  She held his gaze, no longer certain of anything. “You don’t want that?”

  “You’re asking now, Huntley? Sounds like you have this all figured out. But hey, you’re moving back home. Right?” The words hung between them, a challenge waiting a response.

  “Uh. I’m considering it.” What the hell was she saying? She wasn’t leaving. She liked her life here.

  “Well, it makes sense to keep things casual. Just fucking for fucking’s sake.”

  “Right,” she murmured, staring blindly at the TV, wondering why his words felt like such a slap to the face.

  The ringtone of her phone jarred the silence between them. She grabbed it off the coffee table and answered it without looking to see who was calling, glad for the sudden distraction.

  “Hey, Huntley, it’s Greg. How are you doing?”

  Cullen tensed beside her and she knew he could hear Greg’s voice.

  “Uh, fine. How are you?” He’d sent her a few texts since their coffee date. She replied to one or two but ignored most of them. She couldn’t even imagine seeing him again. Even if her heart wasn’t invested in Cullen, they weren’t a good match.

  She snuck a glance at Cullen’s face, not hearing a word Greg was saying as she eyed him. His jaw was locked and his gaze drilled into her, bright and intense. There was a look in his eyes that reminded her of him at the coffeehouse when he had watched her with Greg. A dark little thrill raced through her as she remembered how that night had ended.

  “Mm-hm,” she murmured to whatever Greg was saying. Something about another date.

  Cullen inhaled sharply and she knew he could hear every word. She winced. God. She wasn’t trying to make him jealous. Truly. And he had no reason to feel jealous. They weren’t in an exclusive relationship. Her feminine hackles rose even as some other part of her wakened and trembled, craving his hands on her again. His body hard and strong, taking over hers and making her want things she never knew she wanted.

  She gave her head a small shake and tightened her fingers around the phone, getting off on that glint in Cullen’s eyes that warned her he was close to losing it.

  He stood from the couch and stopped before her, his belt buckle on level with her eyes. She gulped and flicked her gaze up to
his face. Eyes like flint.

  His hands circled her ankles and yanked her until she was flat on her back on the couch. She gasped into the phone.

  “You okay, Huntley?” Greg asked into her ear.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She squeaked as Cullen slid his big hands up her legs.

  He leaned down and bit the lobe of her ear, sending a sharp spike of lust through her at the pleasure-pain. “You’re more than fine,” he growled. “Why don’t you tell him you’re about to get fucked hard and deep by me. Again.”

  She moaned. Her body reacted on a primitive level—sex tingling, breasts growing heavy with need.

  “Huntley? Are you okay?” Greg asked worriedly as Cullen’s breath fanned hotly in her ear. A rush of moisture soaked her panties.

  “Y-yes,” she choked. “I have to g-go.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before Cullen plucked the phone from her hand and tossed it aside.

  His deep voice purred near her face. “No sense in stringing him along. You’re not going out with him again.”

  She opened her mouth … to say what, she wasn’t certain. She didn’t want to go out with Greg. That was true.

  His chest lifted on a ragged breath. “Right now you’re mine.”

  How dare he act so high-handed? A roaring rush filled her ears. She didn’t think. Just reacted. She lashed out, punching him in the chest. Not a flicker of pain crossed his face. He didn’t even flinch.

  He bent over her, his voice lethal. “Hit me if it makes you feel better. I can take it.” His dark eyes glinted and she knew he meant it. Maybe it even got him off a little.

  Inhaling, she told herself anger at this situation was her most dominant emotion, but she knew that was a lie. Hunger stirred within her.

  She moaned his name as he slid off her leggings in one move and flipped her over on the couch.

  His broad hand smoothed over the rounded swell of her ass. “Not his. You got that?” His hand came down on her with a smack. She jolted at the contact, moaning low in her throat as a bolt of heat shot straight between her legs. She dipped her spine and arched her bottom higher in the air, asking for more, wishing her panties were gone, her anger from moments ago melting into air.

  She trembled on all fours as he ran a hand up her thigh and slid it over her stinging cheek, giving her a hard squeeze before knuckling aside her underwear. With the same hand he cupped her sex, massaging it until all ability to speak fled her.

  “This is mine,” he growled.

  Her head swam. They had just established this was merely sex between them. This is mine. He didn’t mean it. It was just one of those things people said during sex. Passionate words blurted out during the throes. Sullen Cullen never stuck with any single female.

  The ability to think vanished as he slid a finger inside her. She bowed her spine, thrusting her bottom in the air, drawing him in deeper.

  His lips landed on her bared cheek, kissing her where he had spanked her. “Say it.” His voice rumbled against her, vibrating from somewhere deep in his chest.

  “I’m not saying that.”

  He bit down, his teeth sharp and punishing on her tender skin. She cried out and to her utter bewilderment, moisture rushed between her legs, edging her toward orgasm.

  He slowed the pumping action of his finger between her legs, his mouth talking against the skin he just bit. “Your body says it loud and clear. You just got real wet for me, sweetheart.” His mouth traveled up to the small of her back, tender kisses dragging over her goose-puckered flesh. “Say it,” he commanded.

  The tenderness got to her. She panted heavy breaths into the couch cushion, thrusting her bottom up at him, urging his finger to continue its assault. “I’m yours.”

  His thumb pressed down hard on her clit in reward and she flew apart, coming in a muffled shriek, arms clutching the couch cushion, her fingers digging into the fabric. Her knees trembled, threatening to give out.

  Cullen slipped his finger free. “There you go, sweetheart.” She heard the faint sing of his zipper over the crashing of her breath. He grabbed her hips in both hands, hoisting her up. “Grab the back of the couch,” he commanded.

  She folded her fingers over the hard edge, still fuzzy-headed from her orgasm.

  A hissing breath escaped her as she felt the plump head of his cock at her opening. He dragged the tip up and down her crease, grazing it over her sensitive clit.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned.

  He pushed in, just the head of him. “You feel that, sweetheart?”

  She nodded and sounds passed her lips that might have resembled speech but sounded like something an animal would make.

  He pushed in a little deeper and she whimpered. The walls of her channel stretched, fighting to accommodate him.

  “You won’t forget me. No one is ever going to touch you like this. No one will make you come like I can. No ex-boyfriend. No other man.”

  A sob welled up in her chest. He was already assuming she was gone. He was okay with that.

  He didn’t give her time to adjust or catch her breath. He thrust deep, filling her. Seizing her hips, he hammered into her, leaning low, covering her back with his chest. His big hands slid beneath her tunic top, cupping her breasts as he worked in and out of her. His agile fingers tugged the lacy cups of her bra down until her breasts bobbed above the bunched fabric. He fondled the heavy, aching flesh, his fingers playing over her nipples until they pebbled hard.

  She started pushing back against him, meeting the thrust of his cock, slamming her ass against him, wanting to punish him for talking to her like she was gone. He growled, his fingers pinching harder on her nipples, snapping some invisible cord that held her together. Sensation swelled through her, starting at her sex and rolling out all the way to her toes.

  He chuckled, low and deep, the sound rasping against her nape. “That’s right.” He slipped a hand between them, rolling the tender nub of her clit. “Who owns this?”

  She shrieked, convulsing against him, hating and reveling in his utter arrogance. As her orgasm ebbed and faded, she let go of the couch and squeezed out from under him, fully aware that he had yet to reach his climax.

  “Huntley, what—”

  She turned and pushed him back down on the couch, her palms flat on his chest as she straddled him, wrapping a fist around him and guiding him back inside her. She sank down on him, a huff of breath escaping her at feeling him like this. Impaled upon him. She had never felt a man so deep and hard. Not that she had a wealth of experience to draw from, but it was almost like he was reaching up into her heart. Truly a part of her. If this was to be their last time, then she intended for him to remember her.

  His hands dropped to her waist. He gripped her, ready to move her up and down, but she wasn’t having it. She seized his wrists and pushed them up by his head. She locked gazes with him and held herself still over him.

  “What are you doing, Huntley?”

  “It’s my turn.”

  Heat flared in his eyes. “Then start moving.”

  She shook her head at him. “You’ve had your way. It’s my turn to do this my way.”

  “Your turn? You’ve gotten off twice. I’d say it’s my turn now.”

  Bending her head, she bit him on his pec. He made a short sound, part growl, part moan, as her inner muscles tightened around him.

  “Feel that?” she asked, loosening her fingers around his wrists.

  His hands came down and smoothed over the rounded swells of her ass. “Yeah.” He croaked, his fingers digging and flexing on her in a way that made her ache and clench around him again.

  She framed his face with her hands and kissed him slow and deep, her tongue tasting, stoking the kiss until it became something hot and wild between them.

  Her sex continued to pulse and squeeze around his cock as the kiss grew feverish and intense. He tried to move his hips and she broke the kiss, pushing a hand down hard on his chest, pinning him to the couch. “You don’t move,” sh
e reprimanded.

  “Fuck,” he gasped. “I have to move.”

  The desperate words were almost her undoing. Her inner muscles worked, squeezing, wringing his cock, eager for increased friction and pressure.

  He arched his throat on a moan. “I feel that. You want it, too. Let me go.”

  “I set the pace.” She shifted, easing out a fraction and then coming down and seating herself fully, grinding on him and rocking her pelvis.

  Leaning down, she kissed his throat, inhaling his scent, scoring the taut skin with her teeth. She trailed kisses all over his throat and collarbone, loving the salty taste of his skin. At his ear, she bit down on the lobe and lifted her hips, treating him to another slow and easy pump.

  A hoarse, broken cry was her reward. As she came back down, she squeezed tight around his hard length, gasping at the friction. His fingers dug into her hips, hanging onto her like his life depended on it. His head rolled side to side on her couch, sweat beading his forehead. She had never felt so empowered—or so utterly feminine.

  His jaw clenched, a muscle feathering the taut flesh of his cheekbone. She fanned her fingers against his cheek, kissing him and savoring his mouth before sliding her lips along his square jaw in a flurry of kisses.

  “Huntley,” he begged in a voice she had never heard from him. From any man. Arching, she began to rock her hips, moving above him sinuously, sinking down slowly and dragging back up. She reached a hand around her and cupped his balls, squeezing them gently in her fist.

  He surged up, his hips lifting her as he came in a guttural cry, releasing himself deep inside her, his fingers digging so firmly on her hips she knew she would bear marks later.

  He collapsed back down, his face slack with pleasure, eyes closed. His beautiful chest slick with perspiration.

  She dropped over him, their bodies glued to each other, breathing as one.

  “As far as fucking goes, that might have been … the best.” His voice gusted over the top of her head.