Off Base(42)

He must be confused. Or still drunk. Yeah, that made sense. More sense than him looking at her like she was his next meal. That made zero sense.

“Cullen?” Her voice escaped in an embarrassing croak. She tried again, telling herself that this wasn’t weird. This was Cullen. Her friend. “Are you … drunk?”

“I’m sober enough.”

If he wasn’t drunk, then that meant she woke him up with her shameless bump and grind. Nice. That was only slightly mortifying.

The air crackled between them as she searched for words to explain herself. Maybe he hadn’t noticed what she was doing before she tried to slip out of bed. A girl could hope.

His gaze dipped, moving down the length of her. She became hyper-conscious of the cool air wafting around her exposed thighs. She didn’t need to glance down to know her flirty little skirt was sky-high to her hips and he had a view of her plain underwear. She flushed hotly. So boring. He was probably used to animal-print G-strings.

“You’re not going to run out of here and pretend you didn’t just back that ass into me.”

His voice was a growl and almost unrecognizable to her. This wasn’t her friend. It was a different Cullen.

A sound escaped her that sounded a lot like omiphhhfttt.

His gaze dipped again. He angled his head, studying her as though she were a specimen he had never seen.

Before she knew his intention, his hand came down and molded to her sex. She cried out at the contact. The firm press of his palm, the long fingers curling inward between her thighs, made her jump. His hand burrowed, gliding along the crease of her womanhood.

She whimpered, her hands stretching out at her sides and clutching the sheets. She parted her thighs in welcome, allowing him greater access and loathing the thin cotton barrier of her panties. His fingers rubbed, sliding against her until the friction became unbearable. She pushed herself against his fingers, hungry and seeking. His attention shifted back and forth from between her legs to her face, his expression fierce and concentrated.

That look should have frightened her, but she only wanted his fingers pressing deeper. She wanted her panties gone and his touch directly on her flesh, stroking her. Penetrating her.

Her eyes drifted shut at the near pain of her need.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded, his voice thick and hard.

Her eyes snapped open and her gaze settled on him.

“Do you like this?” he demanded, continuing his assault, rubbing his fingers against the crotch of her panties until she was soaking wet. His jaw was locked tight, his eyes hard obsidian.

She nodded, her hair tossing all around her.

“Say it. Tell me.”

“Y-yes. I like it.”

“What do you want, Huntley?” He twisted his wrist, pushing down against her clit with the base of his palm.

“This … harder … more.” Ever since she saw those handcuffs, she had been one aching ball of need.

A corner of his mouth curled upward in a look that could only be described as supreme satisfaction. Instead of giving her what she asked for though, he lifted his hand away. She cried out, leaning forward at the loss of his touch.

He settled his knees between her legs and shoved her back down with one hand on her shoulder. His face was closer now. Directly above her. Even in the gloom of the room she could make out the brackets on either side of his mouth.

She held her breath, waiting, knowing something was coming even if she didn’t know what. It occurred to her then that nothing with Cullen would be ordinary or expected. Even if her experience in the bedroom wasn’t so limited, he was a man out of her realm.

She parted her lips, moistening them with her tongue. His eyes followed the movement and seemed to gleam darkly bright. He’s going to kiss me now. He inched forth just a fraction, his mouth getting closer—

His fingers slapped her between the legs, coming down with a quick pat on her swollen sex.

A shudder wracked her and she moaned.

“You like that?” he asked against her ear.

She nodded and cried out as he swatted her sex again. The contact sent a bolt of sensation to her engorged clit.

“I warned you I was shit company, didn’t I?”

She nodded, incoherent sounds breaking loose from her throat.

“You shouldn’t be here, Huntley.” This time he targeted her clit, striking her with a series of flicks that shot sharp needles of desire straight through her.

She cried out, shaking. She was so close.

His big hands dove to her hips. He grabbed the sides of her underwear and slid them down her legs in one move. Cool air wafted over her weeping sex.

She felt his stare there, on her swollen center. He saw the evidence of what he did to her … how wet she was, how she ached for him.

A hissed breath of approval escaped him. “Huntley.” His voice sounded strangled. He placed a hand on the inside of each of her thighs, pushing her wide for him. “God, you’re so pretty.”

She’d never been so exposed in her life. Jackson never looked at her there.

Cullen lowered himself so she could feel his hot breath on her folds. “So f*cking pretty, Huntley. Who knew you had such a sweet little *?”

Her breath fell in hard pants. She trembled, feeling his gaze like a touch and yet not. It wasn’t a caress, and she needed it to be. She needed it so, so badly.

He dragged a finger down her, barrier free, tracing her slit. She surged off the bed, her spine curving at this first contact. A rush of moisture rose to meet him, and he made a tsking sound of approval.