Текст книги "Off Base"

Автор книги: Tessa Bailey

Соавторы: Sophie Jordan
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter Seven

“You’re a lot prettier than your picture.”

Huntley forced a smile at the compliment. “Thank you.” And you look shorter in person. The thought skidded through her mind as she swapped pleasantries with her date. They stood at the coffee bar, waiting for their drinks. She chafed one hand up and down her arm, pretending not to notice him checking her out.

“I bet your patients never want to go home,” he continued. “Security probably has to drag them out of the ER.”

She smiled again, wondering if they were going to move beyond the inane compliments. According to his profile, they had a lot in common. When were they going to start clicking?

Her favorite barista, Sheridan, set her drink down before her, her purple-tipped red hair bobbing stylishly above her shoulders as she moved. “Here you go, Huntley.”

“Thanks, Sheridan.” She picked up her mug and met the girl’s inquisitive gaze. In the years Huntley had been frequenting Java Joe’s she had never brought a man here. Well, other than Cullen, of course.

“And here’s yours.” Sheridan slid a mug at Greg, her smile slipping. For whatever reason, she did not bestow her usual perky smile on him.

Greg accepted his drink. When his phone started pinging, he fumbled for it in his blazer pocket. Glancing at the screen, he looked up at Huntley through his wire-rimmed glasses. He was cute in a scholarly way. Not muscular. Not a soldier. Her hands might even be larger than his. His hands definitely weren’t like Cullen’s big, capable mitts. Nor like his long, deft fingers that stroked—

STOP. She gave her head a single swift shake. This was the kind of guy she was looking for. Someone gentle and academic, cerebral, who liked to spend his free time at libraries. According to his profile, he made an epic goat cheese frittata.

It would be nice, after a day of mayhem, to return to a home-cooked meal. An image of Cullen’s big body over hers, his hand working between her thighs, making her shudder out her release, flashed across her mind. Sweet Jesus, yes. That would be nice at the end of a hard day too.

“Would you pardon me? It’s my on-call service.”

She blinked, chasing away the inappropriate thoughts. “Of course.”

He ducked toward the back of the coffeehouse.

“Who’s the tool?” Sheridan leaned over the bar to inquire.

Huntley huffed. “He’s a dentist. And very nice.”

“That so? Where’s Cullen?”

Her face flushed. “It’s not my day to watch him.”

Sheridan held up both hands as though to ward off an attack. “Sorry, sorry. Don’t be so touchy. Just thought that there was something between you two—”

“We’re just friends. You know that.”

Sheridan snorted. “Friends with benefits, you mean?”

“No!” She sent a quick look to where her date talked in the corner. He lifted his chin and waved back at her. “It’s not like that with us,” she insisted. Last night it almost turned into that though.

“Well, it should be like that. I’ve watched you two flirting around it forever. I don’t know what’s stopping you from crawling all over that man and licking him from top to bottom.”

Huntley rolled her eyes. “It’s not that simple. We’re just friends,” she insisted, nervously tracing the rim of her cup.

“Does Cullen know that?”

She nodded. “Of course. And he knows I’m dating.” In a way.

“Really? As in, he knows you’re on a date right now? Because here he comes. We should ask him.”

Huntley’s head swiveled to watch as Cullen stepped inside the coffeehouse. Gone was his dress uniform. He was wearing a pair of well-worn, faded jeans and a snug black T-shirt that did amazing things to his chest. Okay, maybe that chest did amazing things for his shirt.

His gaze landed on her. Sheridan leaned closer across the bar to whisper, “Mmm-mm, that man,” she nodded once, “is hotter than two mice fucking in a wool sock, and if I were you I would hop on him.”

Huntley didn’t even blink at the girl’s colorful speech. She fixed her gaze on Cullen as he advanced.

He stopped before her. “Hey.”

“Hey, Cullen,” Sheridan chimed. “Your usual?”

He gave her a quick glance before looking back at Huntley. “Yes, thanks.”

“What are you doing here?” Huntley blurted, resisting looking over her shoulder to Greg.

He shrugged. “It’s Wednesday. What’s so unusual about me being here?”

Not that unusual, but she hadn’t expected it. She’d already seen so much of him lately, and with Beck here he didn’t need to hold himself up to the same standard of watchdog-ness. She thought she would have been safe.

She had the insane urge to throw a coat over Greg as though that would somehow hide him. Ridiculous, of course. She had no reason to hide the fact that she was on a date. In fact, let Cullen see she was dating. Then he’d know she wasn’t clinging to last night … that everything was truly fine and normal and there wasn’t any lingering weirdness between them.

The decision was taken out of her hands when Greg returned, stuffing his phone back in his blazer pocket. “Ah, sorry about that.” He stopped at her side, his hand coming to rest at her elbow.

She pasted a wobbly smile on her lips. “That’s okay.”

Cullen tensed, his gaze moving from her to Greg, his cold eyes pointedly dropping to the hand that clasped her elbow.

“Here you go, Cullen,” Sheridan’s voice intruded as she offered Cullen his usual coffee.

Cullen dug into his pocket and removed his wallet. Without removing his gaze from Huntley and Greg, he offered a few dollars to Sheridan. “Keep the change.”

“Cullen, this is Greg.” Huntley motioned to Greg. There was no getting around introductions now. “Cullen is my … friend.”

She could kick herself for the pause there. She almost had said her brother’s friend, but the way she had paused he probably thought she was looking for some other filler word. This is Cullen, the guy I made out with last night who gets all my girl parts torqued up.

Cullen stared hard at her for a moment before shaking hands with Greg.

Greg did a quick assessment of Cullen, not missing the cropped dark hair or glint of dog tags. If she wasn’t mistaken, Greg’s nostrils flared as though he had encountered something tainted.

She shifted on her feet, feeling a surge of defensiveness. As though she needed to protect Cullen, which was crazy. He was the least vulnerable person she knew. Even hurting over losing Xander, his veneer was rock solid. Greg’s opinion of him wouldn’t affect him in the least.

“How about the table by the window, Huntley?” Greg suggested, urging her along, his gaze on her, Cullen forgotten.

“Sure.” She nodded, reminding herself this was a date.

“See you later, Cullen.” Together she and Greg weaved between tables and took their seats.

She tried to focus on Greg as he dove into a story about himself. The back of her neck prickled. She reached a hand there and rubbed self-consciously, trying to concentrate on Greg. A good half hour passed and the situation was unbearable. She told herself it was because of Cullen. If he wasn’t here, she could enjoy herself on her first date in forever.

She felt Cullen behind her. Felt his stare. She heard the higher feminine tone of Sheridan’s voice and the deep rumble from Cullen as he replied, and her stomach pitched. Huntley crossed her legs and then uncrossed them again beneath the table, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder.

“So I know this town is full of Army meatheads,” Greg was saying, “but the cost of living here is great, and there aren’t too many dentists to compete with.” He stopped for a breath and it looked like he might let her get a word in. “What about you? How did you end up here?”

“Well, my twin brother is a meathead actually. He completed his training here and helped get me a job at the hospital on base before he was deployed.”

“Oh.” An awkward silence fell between them. She rubbed at the back of her neck again, still feeling Cullen’s eyes drilling into her.

She forced herself to swallow the last bit of her latte. She tapped the rim of her mug idly. “Well, this has been nice.” Her voice squeaked a little at the end of the lie in an attempt to sound perky. As though this really had been nice and not all shades of uncomfortable. She reached for her handbag looped around the back of her chair.

“Yeah.” Greg pushed to his feet the same time she did. “I had a really good time, too. Maybe next time we can do dinner? There’s a great French bistro that just opened.”

“Sure.” She lifted one shoulder even though staying home alone and curling up on the couch sounded more tempting. “Just email me.” She supposed she should try at least one more date with him before calling it quits. She wasn’t going to meet anyone if she was too picky.

“Great.” Beaming, he settled his hand on the small of her back and led her from the coffeehouse.

As she stepped from the building and out into the warm sunshine, she risked one final glance behind her to the bar where Cullen sat perched on a stool.

He was still there as she knew he would be, one palm pressed flat on top of the counter beside his cup, his other arm hanging loosely at his side. It was a casual pose. Almost listless. And yet it wasn’t. Tightly leashed energy radiated off him as he sat there. He reminded her of an animal, frozen for an endless moment before he sprang into action. The sight made her pulse thrum faster at her neck.

She squared her shoulders. He had no reason to be angry, and she had no reason to feel like she had done something wrong. They were friends, moving on from one little misstep.

Greg stepped closer. His face was near enough that she could make out the slight overlap of his front tooth over its neighbor and she couldn’t help thinking it ironic that a dentist would have less-than-perfect teeth.

“W-what are you doing?” she stammered.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

A swift “no” rose to her lips. She hardly knew him. Forgetting that fact, she didn’t want to kiss him. He might not be ugly, but he was the last man she wanted to kiss. The man she wanted to kiss sat inside that coffeehouse, watching her.

Watching her.

If Cullen saw another man kiss her, then he couldn’t possibly think she was hung up on him. She seized upon this idea. Somehow it made perfect sense to her.

“Yes,” she blurted before she fully considered the consequences.

Greg’s eyes lit up like he was presented with an unexpected toy. He worked his mouth as though getting ready for some heavy-duty lip action and closed the distance separating them. He flattened his mouth on hers.

It wasn’t a terrible kiss. No tongue action, thankfully, but he clung to her bottom lip for a long moment like he wanted to take it with him. Maybe he thought it was sexy, but it just felt … odd.

When they stepped apart, he smiled. “See you soon.”

She nodded, forcing herself not to look through the glass door for Cullen. She couldn’t. It would reveal that she perhaps had an ulterior motive in kissing Greg. Which she did, but she didn’t want Cullen to know that.

With a final goodbye for Greg, she hurried to her car. She felt a grim sense of satisfaction knowing she had given Cullen evidence that she wasn’t sitting at home pining for him—or working her vibrator raw lusting after him. She was a big girl, taking her own life by the horns. Still. Her chest ached in a way that felt far from okay.

She slid behind the wheel, started her engine and backed out of her spot without even yet buckling. Almost as though she expected him to give chase. Of course he wouldn’t. There would be no reason for that.

She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror, noting her flushed face and overly bright eyes. It had nothing to do with Greg and everything to do with Cullen.

Lowering her gaze, she wiped a hand over the back of her mouth, ridding herself the memory of Greg’s mouth there. It had been necessary, but she still longed for Cullen. His lips, his taste to erase and replace all others.

As she departed the parking lot, the pulse at her neck steadied, and a hollow feeling spread throughout her chest as she realized that she might not be able to forget her night with Cullen. Ever.

At the first red light she reached, she managed to buckle her seatbelt. Staring blindly ahead, she wondered where this put her. If she couldn’t stop wanting Cullen, craving him as more than a friend, where did that leave her?

How could they be friends at all?

Chapter Eight

Cullen managed to cool his heels at Java Joe’s for an entire five minutes after Huntley left. His hand opened and flexed at his side, the urge to hit something strong and crushing inside him. Huntley on a date was bad enough. Watching her kiss that asshat … that was worse.

“So. You’re totally just going to sit here like that whole thing didn’t bother you?”

He shot a glance at Sheridan as she prepared someone’s drink. “Why would I be bothered?”

She snorted. “Right. You spent the last few years hanging out with Huntley and now she shows up with a date. Not a big deal.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Is that what you call it these days?”

Shaking his head, he stood up from the barstool. “See you later.”

“Keep it real,” she called as he headed outside and made his way to his truck. He started for home, but his mind rebelled, wondering if Huntley was going to see that tool again.

He beat the steering wheel once with a curse. He couldn’t believe she had let that guy kiss her. Sure, she was single and free to give her lips to any man she wanted, but after last night was she really so eager to be with someone else? She was the only female he could think about. The only one he wanted.

Maybe you got her primed and she’s looking to seal the deal with someone else.

“Fuck,” he growled and turned his truck around in a hard U-turn that broke a dozen traffic violations. He didn’t care. He pushed his foot on the accelerator without even thinking, only one destination in mind.

* * *

She had just changed into one of her favorite softest T-shirts and yoga pants, scrubbed off her makeup, pulled her hair up into a ponytail and began the stare-down with her refrigerator, contemplating a snack of cheese cubes and yogurt, when the knock rapped at her front door.

A quick look through the peephole revealed Cullen standing there, one hand braced somewhere to the right of the door. She gasped. Sweet Jesus. He even looked hot through the peephole. She jerked away from the door, her hand flying to her mouth. She suddenly regretted taking off her makeup. Rolling her eyes, she mentally called herself ten shades of fool. Cullen had seen her without makeup before.

“Open the door, Huntley.” His deep, steady voice sent a bolt of heat down her spine. For a split second, she contemplated refusing and then shame flushed through her. This was Cullen. No matter what had transpired between them, whatever path she chose in life, she could trust him. He was a good guy. Even if he didn’t know it, he always did the right thing. And in this case, as far as he was concerned, the right thing was keeping his hands off her.

With a deep breath, she pulled open the door. “Cullen.” Was that breathy squeak actually her voice? She swallowed and tried again. “What are you doing here?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she realized that was a rather inane question. She never asked him why he stopped by. She simply opened her door, her home, her heart to him, no questions asked. Every time. It was just further proof how different things were between them. How they might never be the same again.

He didn’t answer, didn’t move from outside her doorway. His liquid-dark gaze skimmed her up and down, not missing the well-worn T-shirt, yoga pants and bare toes burrowing into the carpet.

“I forgot something,” he muttered.

“Oh?”

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

It was like someone pushed a pause button. Time yawned, ticking in silence. Neither moved. Tension thickened the air between them. She couldn’t even breathe as his gaze speared her.

Then a switch flipped.

His hand looped around her neck and he hauled her against him, simultaneously stepping inside her house. His mouth crashed over hers. Cullen was kissing her. It was everything and nothing like she ever fantasized.

Hard and soft. Sweet and lethal. His firm, warm lips slanted against hers. His tongue slid inside and she gasped.

She felt consumed. Branded.

Dimly, she registered the click of the door, but she could hardly keep up with things like the door shutting or Cullen backing her into the living room with his mouth moving on hers.

She couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt like it was going to explode at the heady scent of him, the taste … at the stroke of his velvet tongue against hers. She was overcome, stunned senseless, her lips motionless.

He pulled back slightly and growled against her lips. “Kiss me, Huntley.”

His words broke something loose inside her. Ignited her. She leaned into his mouth, kissing him back, ravenous, touching her tongue to his.

He made a deep growl of approval, bent and then lifted her off her feet. She squeaked and gripped his shoulders. “Cullen!” she cried against his lips, “I’m too—”

“I’m not dropping you,” he rasped on her mouth. “Not ever.”

Her heart tripped as she realized he was carrying her with ease toward her bedroom, his big hands holding her up by her bottom, his mouth still devouring hers.

He brought her down on her bed, coming over her, his hands flattening on either side of her head, caging her in. He lifted his head and the air left her in a rush as she looked up into his starkly handsome face.

His gaze drilled into her. “I’ve been thinking I needed to rectify what you said earlier and kiss you.”

“Oh. You did that.” She waited, half expecting him to push off the bed and call it good between them. They had kissed, after all. And then some.

He stood and her heart sank to realize she was right, but he didn’t move away. He stared down at her, his dark eyes full of an emotion she couldn’t read.

She sat up, pushing the tendrils of hair off her face that had come loose from her ponytail. She moistened her lips, reaching for her composure—the last of which fled as she watched him reach behind his neck and pull his shirt over his head in one smooth motion.

Her mouth dried at this sight of him. His shoulders and biceps looked like they were cut from marble. The muscled pecs, the ridged stomach. She’d seen him without his shirt before, but never like this. Never like a hungry beast poised over her and ready to devour. He wasn’t done with her. That much was clear. And she didn’t want him to be.

She wanted to be devoured.

He seized the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. Cool air wafted over her. His eyes gleamed darkly as he eyed her in her simple white bra. Her stomach tightened when his fingers went to the front center clasp and flicked it open. Her breasts sprang free.

Heat scored her cheeks. She didn’t remember ever being so on display for a man before. The number of men to see her breasts had been few and never in full light like this. Her hands came up to cover herself and he grabbed her wrists, tugging them back down. “No way are you going to hide from me.”

The words acted like flint to steel, igniting a steady burn to all her most intimate parts. Her nipples tightened, pebbling into hard points, and her sex clenched, eager to be filled.

He came over her again, backing her down on the bed. Both his knees settled between her thighs, the mattress dipping with his weight. The denim of his jeans rasped against the soft cotton of her yoga pants. His stare slicked over her, feasting on her breasts before crawling down the slope of her stomach. He flattened one broad hand on her belly. His long fingers reached as far as her ribcage. He shifted and his fingertips grazed the undersides of her breasts.

She sucked in a sharp breath, arching her spine, singed at the touch. He wasn’t like most guys. His greedy hands didn’t dive for her breasts, squeezing and groping them like melons. He made her wait.

Both his hands spanned her torso as he leaned over her. His mouth a hairsbreadth from hers. She lifted her head off the bed, seeking his mouth, eager for him to kiss her again.

His words brushed over her. “You want my mouth again?”

She nodded and leaned closer.

He dodged her lips.

She made a sound of complaint and brought her hands to his shoulders. He plucked them off him and pinned them to the bed. Hard. He laced his fingers with hers and aligned their hips, his erection directly over her core. “I don’t know… seems like anyone will do. You sure you want me to kiss you?”

He rocked against her, rubbing his hard length along the crotch of her yoga pants, knowing exactly what he was doing to her.

“I want you to kiss me,” she insisted.

“You sure?”

She nodded.

He pressed her wrists into the bed and brought his mouth against her neck, directly beneath her ear. She felt his words vibrate against her skin. “Don’t you ever kiss another man in front of me again.”

She nodded even though a part of her rebelled at being told what to do. Cullen wielded total control over her and she reveled in it. For the first time she felt like she could let go. She was ready to submit entirely to a man, knowing that he would only deliver her pleasure.

His mouth dragged down her neck in a trail of biting kisses. Lips, grazing tongue and softly nipping teeth. She whimpered, wiggling under him, out of her mind with need. He reached where her neck and shoulder met, his warm breath fanning in the hollow there for an agonizing moment. Anticipation zipped through her as she waited for more. She trembled, holding her breath for his kiss there…for the slight scrape of teeth.

Finally it came. His teeth sank deep where her neck and shoulder met, marking her, claiming her. A choked gasp ripped from her as her bones liquefied and a rush of heat pooled between her legs. Her eyes flew wide and she gasped, positive no man had bitten her before. She had no idea she would like it so much. Had no idea she would feel it so deeply. He pulled back, laving the tender flesh with his tongue and feathering with his lips.

Her head was spinning, chest lifting with ragged breaths as his hand closed around one breast, lifting the generous swell toward his dipping head. The gentle pressure of his fingers on her flesh made her moan. She arched, desperate for him to take her in his mouth. She ran one hand over the back of his skull, tugging him down with an animal sound that she didn’t even know herself capable of.

The tip of his tongue lightly stroked her nipple. “You want me to kiss you here? Think you deserve that?”

She writhed under him and almost came out of her skin as he dragged the rough pad of a thumb over the turgid peak. Her breast grew heavy in his hand. The one he neglected to even touch yet screamed for his attention, beyond swollen and achy.

His warm breath gusted over the aching tip. Anticipation zinged through her, warring with frustration. She needed this. Needed him. Annoyance sparked along her nerve.

“Maybe I should kiss other men,” she flung out.

He tensed over her, his muscled shoulders turning to solid rock.

“It got you here, didn’t it, Cullen?” she demanded. “Us here? Like this? Would you even be here if I hadn’t kissed that guy in front of you?”

His hand slid down her belly to cup between her legs. She pulsed against his palm, her sex clenching for him to fill her. “You don’t have to go to such lengths. If you wanted me in your bed, why didn’t you say so sooner?”

His hot, dark gaze fixed on her face as he lowered and finally claimed her nipple, drawing it in the wet warmth of his mouth as his hand slid under the waistband of her yoga pants, delving smoothly beneath her underwear to stroke along her crease.

It was sensation overload. His teeth scored her nipple, and she screamed as he plunged one finger inside her. She came apart beneath him. Bright shards of colors exploded behind her eyelids.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Come for me.”

She nodded, unintelligible words tripping from her as he worked a second finger inside. “This is where I want to be, Huntley.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

His eyes locked with hers, dark and endless, peering inside her. He hopped up from the bed. She watched as he unsnapped his jeans and shoved them down over his hips, taking his briefs with them.

Her mouth dried. He stood over her, his cock jutting out, alarming in its size.

“Oh,” she breathed.

She couldn’t even circle him with one hand. She instinctively scooted back on the bed. “I’m not sure that is going to work.”

“Oh, it’s going to work, sweetheart.” He reached for her and grabbed the waistband of her yoga pants, sliding them off her in one smooth motion, leaving her naked. The urge to shield herself came over her, and she closed her knees, angling her legs to the side. “You trust me?”

She did. Irrevocably. She trusted him. Cared about him. More than she should. For years now, she had harbored feelings for him. Desire, lust that she thought he could never reciprocate. But he did.

His warm hands closed over her knees, parting her legs and coming between them again. This time there was no rasp of denim against her. It was bare skin to bare skin, his callused palms an erotic scrape running along the insides of her thighs.

She was putty, ready and open for him. His fingers rubbed over her, and she was so wet her face burned with embarrassment.

His husky voice fanned her lips. “See. Your body wants this.”

He gripped that enormous cock and rubbed it along her crease. She moaned and tilted her hips, ready for him to push inside her. He dragged his plump head up to her clit and rubbed in fierce circles.

She reached between them, dying to touch him. “Let me.”

His hand drifted away and she closed her fingers around him, not surprised at his girth. She knew she would not be able to fully circle his erection in her hand.

A hissed breath escaped him. She exulted in grasping this strong, gorgeous man, controlling him as he had controlled her with his mouth and hands. She guided the tip of him to her opening, teasing him there, granting him the slightest entrance before stopping and pulling him back out.

“Enough teasing,” he growled, his hand clamping on her wrist. “I can’t wait.”

“Then don’t.” She squeezed his cock and guided him in a little bit more, the head of him almost fully lodged inside her now, just in the threshold, already stretching her more than she had ever been stretched.

“Let me get a condom—”

“I’m on the pill,” she said, her voice breathless. She had been on the pill ever since she was seventeen. Her doctor had prescribed it to help with cramps and the occasional breakouts. “Are you … okay?” She winced, hating the awkwardness of that question.

“I’m clean, but you don’t have to do this.” Sweat beaded the top of his lip, and she knew his control was slipping. “I’ve never been inside a woman before without a condom.”

And that sealed it for her. She would be his first in this. Her heart swelled. She wanted to be the first woman to ever truly feel Cullen inside her. The first to have that with him, from him. “I trust you,” she whispered.

Indecision warred on his face. She shifted her hips and tried to take more of him in. He held back, denying her.

“Don’t you want inside me, Cullen?” She reached around him to grip his ass, digging her fingernails into the firm flesh, mindless in her hunger for him, urging him to drive deep. “With nothing between us.”

He groaned and dropped his hand away from where he gripped himself. “Damn, Huntley … to know what it feels like to come inside you? To feel you milking my bare-skinned cock? Yes.”

She didn’t have time to draw air before he buried himself deep with one clean stroke.

She gasped and stiffened against the sudden invasion, her hands flying to his biceps. She was no virgin, but this definitely felt alien. She’d never felt anything like him. It was as though she was full of him, stuffed to the seams.

He dropped his head against her shoulder, his voice rumbling against her skin. “You feel so good, Huntley. Amazing.”

She inhaled a bracing breath, adjusting to the sheer size of him pulsing in her.

He looked down at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just been a while.” She inhaled and exhaled several times. “And you’re bigger than I’m used to.”

He grinned, the smile slow and sexy. “You’ll get used to it.”

He bent his head, lifting one breast and drawing the nipple deep, sucking and scoring it lightly with his teeth.

Her sex clenched, and she moaned at the sensation of his incredible hardness filling her, wedged so tight inside her channel that he felt like he was a part of her. As though there was no ending deciphering where he ended and she began. She arched her throat on a moan.

“Ah, I feel that. See? You are milking my cock.”

She tossed her head in a wild nod and worked her hips under him, willing him to move. “Yes.”

“You ready now?” He pinched her nipple between strong fingers, sending an arrow of lancing sensation right to where their bodies joined.

“Yes,” she panted.

“What? What is it you’re ready for?”

“Your cock … moving, fucking me.”

“With pleasure,” he growled, pulling out and pushing back in. Still controlled. Still steady. He kept it up, creating an even tempo of friction that had her writhing and moaning beneath him.

“What? What do you want, Huntley?”

“Harder.”

His eyes darkened. “Hell yeah,” he muttered, like it was all he was waiting for her to say.

His hands seized her hips and his pace increased. He pounded into her, the headboard rattling against the wall with his every thrust.

She shouted his name and clawed his back. His grip on her hips tightened, fingers hard and deep on her flesh.

He lifted her pelvis until her ass was up off the bed, his cock diving deep, hitting the spot that shattered her. She came, her body jerking violently. He continued to hammer into her, relentless as a machine.

“Oh, that’s beautiful. Come for me again, sweetheart.” His hands slid from her hips to grip her ass. He massaged the rounded swells as he drove in and out of her.

It wasn’t possible. She never orgasmed like this. With Jackson it had been rare and never more than one a night. This didn’t happen.

“I can’t … I never…” Her voice cracked.