He deserves a damned Medal of Honor for holding out this long. They had been circling around this thing for a while now and under normal circumstances he would have had her spread out under him weeks ago. But nothing about Charlie was normal. She was a Matheson, and as it was he was risking the wrath of Miles just thinking about her in a way this inappropriate. Not to mention her mother. He refused to even think about Rachel.
But all thoughts of anyone but Charlie flee his mind when he turns the corner and finds her standing next to the barn. She had gone to gather firewood and he was supposed to be reconning the perimeter of their make-shift camp. He wonders idly if she meant for him to find her, or the possibility that he has been stalking her without even realizing it. He had been chasing her since she woke next to him in the empty pool until it had become an unconscious act. His eyes invariably shifting to find hers, his body always aware of her proximity and making his hair stand on end as if touched by an electrical current when she was near.
Whatever the cause of this encounter didn’t matter, what did was the way she lifts her chin in acknowledgement and the half smile that curls her lips. Bass continues forward before he can stop himself, until she moves with him, backing up into the barn wall and stopping.
“What are you doing,” she asks, her voice a hushed whisper. There are scant inches between them and Bass feels a magnetic pull that is impossible to ignore.
He leans forward, and lowers his head so he can look directly into her eyes, daring her to blink. “What would you like me to do?” The flush that colors her cheeks is delectable, and he watches as her pupils dilate. “Do you want me to kiss you, Charlotte?” He stares at her mouth, watches entranced as she licks her lips, her pink tongue darting out as if to invite him inside.
The wait has him panting, frozen in place. He won’t make a move until she tells him to, the ball is in her court and even though it kills him he doesn’t move. He can remain perfectly still for as long as he needs to, as long as she wants him to. Bass takes a moment to thank a god he no longer believes in for his Corps training, it’s served him well these last fifteen years.
She tilts her head and watches him; her breath caresses his neck in a new torturous sensation that tests his resolve. “Yeah.” She nods her head and he’s stepping forward and kissing her before she can say anything else.
They crash together and it’s all he can do to keep them upright. Charlie is all arms and legs, wrapping around him in a desperation that mirrors his own. Her mouth meets his and her tongue tastes sweet in his mouth; he closes his eyes and presses her harder into the wall, tangling his hands in her hair in an attempt to guide their kiss.
Her response is all Matheson, stubborn and aggressive at the same time. It’s all he can do to keep up; she’s got his zipper undone and her hands down his pants, leaving no question about her intentions.
Bass groans and stills her hands, fingers circling her wrists in a loose grip. “Easy, easy.”
“You gonna come in your pants?” The words are all sass and bravado, but he suspects it’s a cover for the vulnerability that lurks beneath the surface.
He swears that one day she will trust him enough to be unguarded in his presence. One day he’ll earn more than a glimpse of who she really is beneath her hard exterior, but for now he settles for this moment and promises himself there’s more time for everything he wants. Even if it’s lie.
Bass shakes his head and licks his lips, “I have other plans.” He makes quick work of her clothes, exposing as much skin as possible while still leaving them on for the most part. Her pants get caught on her boots and she smirks when he curses under his breath and throws them over his shoulder.
His heart trip hammers in his chest at the sight of her. He wants to touch her everywhere, but settles on her face, drawing her in for another kiss. Charlie nips at his lower lip and tilts her head back, “Come on.”
“Pushy, aren’t you?” But he doesn’t mind at all, especially the moans she gives voice to when he traces his fingers across her chest. He follows with his tongue, stopping long enough to gauge her reaction before moving on.
She answers with a rush of words that he can barely hear. “We need to hurry. You want to get caught?” He’s not expecting her to grab his hand and press it between her legs, but when she does what’s left of his control disappears. She’s wet and ready, parting easily for his fingers.
“Fuck!” The epithet falls from her lips like a prayer and he wants to hear her say it again.
“That is the general idea, yes.” He lowers his forehead to hers and stares unblinking, “Are you a screamer, Charlotte?” Charlie closes her mouth and shakes her head, but continues to move against his hand, building a slow friction. “Let’s find out.”
Normally he likes it slower, enjoying the build-up as much as the actual act, but she’s more than ready and he makes a silent vow that next time he will touch and taste her to his fill. He pulls back and takes himself in hand and then has to adjust for their height difference.
Charlie anticipates his needs and hoists herself up on his hips and within moments he’s pushed inside and her back is thumping against the wooden boards, trapping her in place. She’s so tight that he has to take a moment, his cock wrapped in her inviting warmth and the need to move overwhelming his mind. His eyes close in bliss and he thrusts shallowly, hoping to ease her into it.
While he’s happy to have her here and now quick and dirty in the open air, what he really wants is her on a bed, linen sheets and creaking springs their only distraction. It reminds him that they are vulnerable in this moment and he strokes into her faster, pressing her knees farther apart.
The change in position leaves her wide open and he has to hold her hips to guide her. She hides her face in his neck, muffling the sound of her moans against his skin. When she comes it’s like everything Charlie does; full on, her entire body shuddering and then going limp as she tightens around him.
He comes right after she does, growling her name and seeking out her lips to kiss her again. His thrusts become erratic as he goes deeper, pushes harder. Bass’s vision whites out and he becomes aware that he’s shivering uncontrollably the next time he can draw a breath. The realization that he didn’t pull out stuns him, all the implications clutter his mind. His heart rate slows and he sighs, waiting for a reaction from her.
Charlie glances up at him and her hair hides her expression when he shifts until her feet touch the ground. He starts to apologize and then bites his tongue, calling the words back unspoken. He’s not sorry, not even a little. One word from her and he’d do it again, consequences be damned. Though he wouldn’t say no to a change in position, the vision of her riding him heats his blood all over again and he knows he’s in trouble. Whether he likes it or not this girl has gotten under his skin. And if he isn’t careful she might be the death of him yet.
“That was-” she doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t need to. Her eyes follow the movements of his hands as he lowers her shirt from where it is rucked up under her arms. Bass steps back and gathers her pants, holding them up so she can step into them. It’s considerably harder putting her clothes back on than it was getting them off.
“Yeah.” He thinks to say more but the words fail to materialize. Their silence isn’t awkward, and Bass thinks that is a good thing. A small victory in the long battle they have been fighting against each other.
It feels a little like the forgiveness he didn’t ask for when she helps him button up his shirt, but when he looks into her eyes again she’s hidden all her emotions away. Not forgiveness then, but he tells himself that there is the beginning of acceptance there. And it’s a start. He’ll take whatever he can get.