“Just One Night” | Reid + Callie • Part I
a Blood Money free short

Captain Reid Okumura had resigned himself to another boring New Year’s Eve passed with his Air Force buddies in the townie bar near the base. He certainly never expected to engage in a battle of wits—and words—with buttoned-up, bespectacled English teacher Callie Bauer; more than that, he never expected her to turn those dirty words on him and turn him on. Their game turns from silly to sexy as midnight beckons, and soon Reid is ringing in a new year like none other with pretty Miss Callie.

NSFW WARNING: Includes sex on a pool table, sex in a bedroom, sexy talk, and sexy words. No, really; it’s the sexiest spelling bee ever.

This story takes place approximately two years before the events of BLAMED.

New Year’s Eve • 22h33

“Eunoterpsia. E-U-N-O-T-E-R-P-S-I-A.”

The bartender checked his phone before shooting the brunette an admiring grin. “Correct.” He shook his head. “Thought I’d get you with that one.” Lifting his glass in toast, the bartender tossed back the tequila, then turned his attention to Reid. “Your turn, buddy.”

“Bring it on,” Reid said, smile tight, toying with the shot glass of top-shelf Cuervo in front of him on the battered bar. It wasn’t how he’d planned on spending his New Year’s Eve—in a near-empty townie watering hole, alone except for the company of the redneck bartender, a scruffy local drunk in the corner, and the overdressed young woman perched daintily on the stool next to Reid. His boys had packed it in at a quarter to ten, heading back to base. While he’d been tempted to join them just to avoid a situation like this, there had been a niggling little something poking at the base of his skull, telling him to stay. So he’d stuck around.

End-of-the-day stubble scraped against his palm as he ran a hand over his jaw, giving the woman to his right a sidelong glance. She seemed…out of place, all tidy and put together. Dark hair in a sleek ponytail pulled over one shoulder, cardigan primly buttoned to hide any hint of cleavage, and a slim skirt clinging from hip to knee painted a pretty clear picture, as far as Reid was concerned: Hands off, pal.

Didn’t mean his hands weren’t itching to ruffle her up, anyway.

He’d first noticed her when he and two fellow Air Force officers had stood around one of the billiards tables, shooting the shit as they played a half-assed round of Cutthroat. She’d strode confidently through the front door of the Fickle Flyer, making a beeline for the bar—and the bartender, with whom she was obviously acquainted, judging by the friendly banter and flirtatious smiles passing back and forth between the two.

No reason why that should bother Reid. Except it had.

Apparently, it had bothered him enough to stay when his friends had left, to saunter over to the bar and, somehow, to find himself roped into their amateur spelling-bee-slash-drinking-game, without ever learning her name or offering his own.

For all her starched appearance, she was attractive in a warm, touchable sort of way, he thought now, openly studying her while the bartender tapped away at the screen of his phone. Fair skin, soft mouth, wide eyes behind a cute pair of glasses.

“Oh, man, this is a good one,” the bartender said, interrupting Reid’s perusal. “Colpocoquette.”

Reid blinked. “I have no fucking clue what that means.”

The other man grinned. “It’s a girl with nice tits who ain’t afraid to show ’em off. Col-po-co-quette.”

“Sounds French,” the brunette murmured, studying Reid as blatantly as he’d done her a moment earlier.

He sat taller on his barstool and found himself angling his body toward hers, recognizing the very feminine gleam in her eye—the gleam that said, I see what you’re doing there. That gleam was at odds with the librarian-gone-slumming look she rocked…unless said slumming involved thumbing free a few of those tiny buttons on her sweater and finding out what she was hiding underneath.

He could have a true-blue colpocoquette on his hands for all he knew, waiting for the right pair of hands to come along and use his thumbs on her buttons. To great effect.

Unable to keep from smiling at her—just a little, just enough to let her know he saw the hint of wild she was trying so hard to contain—he threw out a guess. “C-O-L-P…O? C-O-Q-U-E-T-T-E. Colpocoquette.”

“Damn it,” the bartender muttered as he was forced into another tequila shot, but the woman laughed, and it was a great laugh. Loud and lively, throaty and full, making the back of his neck prickle as he gave up on doing anything but watching her. That wasn’t a librarian’s laugh, not at all. A librarian who laughed like that would get kicked out of her own library.

After sliding his phone into his pocket, the bartender wiped his hands on a towel. “You gonna be okay here, Callie?” A careful glance from him had Reid’s shoulders straightening as he fought affront, but he waited for the woman—Callie—to respond, strangely invested in her answer.

Her gaze slid over him, head to toe and back again, lingering on his chest and shoulders long enough to start giving him some very deliberate ideas. “The gentleman and I will be just fine, won’t we?” Her husky question was directed to Reid, and he nodded.

“Thanks again, babe. Lock up whenever you’re done.” He set a key ring on the counter, then walked out from behind the bar toward the front door.

“Absolutely. Good luck tonight!” she called after him, beaming, and waved the bartender out into the night.

They watched together, in silence, as the drunk in the corner scraped back his chair and shuffled to the door, evidently having decided to follow the bartender’s lead. A moment later, they were completely alone. Just Reid and Callie.

He arched a brow, giving her his full attention. “You moonlight as a barkeep or something?”

A smile tugged at those pink lips of hers as she shook her head. “Dan’s my neighbor. He’s going to propose to his girlfriend tonight at the hospital. She works night shift as a nurse.”

“So what do you do?”

“Tenth-grade English teacher. And you’re Air Force, right, at Robins?”

His gaze narrowed. “How’d you know?”

“Big and brawny, swagger for days, and a haircut short enough that my fingers will have nothing to hold onto? Of course you’re Air Force.” Expression slightly smug, she stuck out a slender hand. “Callie.”

He clasped her hand in his. “Reid.” Her skin was warm, soft, as touchable and pretty as the rest of her was. Again, he itched to muss her up, discover if that spark in her eyes would ignite into something much, much hotter when the proper pressure was exerted.

Reid had a talent for exerting pressure, and joining the military had only honed that talent into a sharp-edged control he had every intention, he realized, of putting to use tonight—with Callie.

Seemed there was a reason he’d stayed behind tonight, after all.

Without releasing her hand, he rose from his stool. “Nothing to hold onto, huh?” Showed what she knew. Tilting his head toward the billiards tables, he said, “Let’s play.” He stroked the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand.

Her grip tightened in reflex, and he watched a flush creep from her modest collar, up her neck to her cheeks. Her throat worked as she swallowed, but her voice was strong, teasing, flirting when she spoke. “Only if you’re ready to have your ass handed to you.” Pulling her hand free of his, she reached across the bar to snag a bottle of Jameson, then slid from her seat. “C’mon, Captain Reid.” Whiskey in hand, she headed for the tables, taunting him with, “I’m in a winning mood.”

So was he. Which was why he tossed back his waiting shot of Cuervo, then followed her across the room.

That skirt was glued to her ass like a second skin, hugging her shape so perfectly it was almost obscene, even if the hem hit her knees. A failed attempt at modesty if ever he saw one, and a heat started sizzling in his veins that had nothing to do with the hit of booze.

“I should confess,” she said as she placed the bottle on the wooden lip of a table and moved toward the wall rack of cues, “I’ve seen that list of long-ass sex words Dan was giving us before. He just didn’t know.”


Pool cue in hand, she shrugged, her buttons pulling taut for one breath-stealing second. He was going to get that sweater off her tonight if it killed him. No point in stifling all that fire.

After racking the balls and choosing a cue for himself, he waved toward the table. “After you,” he murmured graciously. And then bit his tongue as the twelve rolled neatly into a corner pocket. Followed quickly by the fourteen. “How’d you know my rank?” he asked, choosing not to comment on the fact that Callie the English Teacher was a pool shark, and that he was going to lose this game, badly.

“I didn’t.” Again, she bent at the waist, lined up the shot, and sank the eleven. “It’s called flirting. I was flirting with you.” Locking eyes with him, she undid the top button of her cardigan. Then another, a small smile teasing her lips.

He hardened behind the fly of his jeans, and stared openly at the luscious bit of cleavage she’d just revealed. “I suppose you’re flirting now, too.”

“Of course.” Sauntering over, she stopped directly in front of him. “But only because I’m hoping it’ll get me somewhere with you, Cap.” She turned abruptly, giving him her back, and leaned over to take her next shot.

For the first time, she missed. Which might have been due to the fact that Reid had stepped behind her and aligned his hips to her skirt-covered backside. He let her feel his erection as he caged her against the table, hands coming to rest on either side of her along the edge. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not very skilled at flirting.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” There was a breathless quality to her voice. “You seem to be doing just fine at the moment.”

He chuckled darkly, excitement tripping through his limbs, buzzing in his brain. “This? This isn’t flirting.”

“What is it, then?”


He felt her body soften under his, and a shaky sigh escaped her. “About damn time,” she muttered, before breaking off in a quiet moan as one of his hands gripped her waist. The other dropped to the hem of her skirt, drawing the clinging fabric up in a move more swift than seductive, but he was impatient to see her.

That impatience paid off. “Oh, look at you, baby.” Sheer stockings ended high on her thighs, held in place by rich red garter belt. The cheeks of her ass were round and pale and perfect—naughty Miss Callie had evidently opted out of wearing panties tonight. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you planned this.”

Palms flat on the tabletop, she shook her head. A faint tremor shivered through her, but he knew it was excitement, not fear, especially when she said, in a tone low and smoky, “Pretend I did.” When Reid didn’t respond, she urged, “Pretend I planned it, all for you. Pretend I knew you were here, waiting for me, and that before the end of the night you were going to bend me over this table and fuck me senseless.”

“Is that what you want?” He couldn’t keep from running his hands all over her bared skin, hips and ass and thighs he wanted to spread wide. Two fingers found the slit between her legs. “You want me to fuck you right here, when anyone could walk in and see us?”

Her breathing hitched. “Y-yes.”

His fingers parted her, stroking. “You’re already wet.” Slick and creamy on his fingertips, and his mouth watered. “Look at me,” he ordered, and when she glanced over her shoulder at him, he did what he wanted and shoved those two fingers deep inside her.

She moaned. Shuddered.

Still holding her gaze, he withdrew and sucked his wet fingers into his mouth, tasting her against the salt of his own skin. Her face reddened, her breathing choppy as he licked his fingers clean. “You taste like you need me to fuck you.” Later on, if he had the chance, he’d toss her on her back and bury his face between her legs for a while, but not now.

Now, she was telling him, “I do. I need it.”

“Wrong answer.” Not giving her a moment, wanting her breathless and begging even as he ignored the pain in his cock, he thrust his fingers back inside her pussy. “You need me.”

“Yes, yes,” she agreed hoarsely, pulling off her glasses and tossing them onto the pool table. Her arms snaked forward, head dropping to rest on the felt as she bent further, arching her back for him. Her hips wriggled back and forth, meeting the determined pounding of his fingers. “More. I need more of you.”

Unable to wait another second, he undid his fly and dug into his back pocket for the condom in his wallet. It took both hands to tear the foil, a half a moment to roll the latex over his demanding erection, but then he was fisting its base and guiding himself into her in one hard thrust.

God, she was so tight. And hot. And wet, so fucking wet around him, and he’d done that to her. His cock throbbed inside her, aching, reminding him how much he wanted to come, how easy it would be to just let go and slam into her until he did come, but the picture she presented—bent over the pool table with that modest skirt bunched up around her waist—was too pretty and too damn sexy to rush.

Her fingers curled around the eight ball, white-knuckled and delicate, as her forehead pressed into the tabletop. The flush in her cheeks, the way her lips parted so the lower one dragged against the felt…fuck, she was loving it. Loving him. Fingertips digging into her hips, he thrust harder. “Spell something else for me. Something from that list.”


“Yes, now.” He wanted another smart word out of that smart mouth of hers as he drove into her. His hand fell to her ass, shaped her, loving her soft skin under his palm as he squeezed, then gently slapped. “Do it.”

“I can’t—”

“You can.” A thrill shot through him that she seemed to want him like this, with his bossy side taking the reins and ready to play.

She shuddered and arched her back slightly, her bottom pressing against him as he switched to shallower thrusts, keeping his cock seated deep inside her where he never wanted to leave. “Amychesis,” she panted after a moment.

Another light spanking, this time on her other cheek. “What does it mean, baby?”

“I-it’s the involuntary scratching or…or…”

He stopped moving entirely, though it nearly killed him. “Or what?” With a whimper, she began to writhe in distress, but he stilled her, grabbing her hips and leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Tell me the rest of it, or we’re gonna stay like this for a while. Just me in this tight little pussy of yours, not moving an inch, until you start to beg. Maybe you think I won’t be able to hold out, but I will. Because I promise you, I can always last longer.”

Moaning, she rocked against him, making him grit his teeth. “Involuntary scratching or clawing of a partner during sex,” she said hurriedly. “A-M-Y-C-H-E-S-I-S. Amychesis.”

“Don’t worry. That’s up next.” Straightening, he withdrew in a slick slide so good and slow it made his muscles want to seize, until only the head of his cock stayed inside. Without warning, he pounded into her.

Her cries were muted against the green felt, but he caught her “oh, God” and groaned, the sound vibrating in his chest and adding another layer of sensation that pushed him closer to the edge. Then he heard it.


His name on her tongue while he fucked her, hard and deep and fast, made him dizzy. High, like falling through clouds, the whoosh of air as it rushed past deafening him…only better, because that telling tingle had started at the base of his spine and he felt his balls draw tight. Reaching around, he found her clit with two fingers and stroked, petting her with quick, firm flicks until she clenched around him and, with a muffled scream, came.

The pulsing clasp of her inner muscles was too much. He threw his head back and swore as he emptied his load into the condom, ecstasy pumping through him with his orgasm.

It took longer than he would have liked for his brain to start working again, but eventually, he forced himself to pull out, tying off the condom and tossing it in a nearby trashcan. She sighed, a melting, pleasure-drenched exhalation that told him everything he needed to know, before straightening up from the table.

Some wiggling and zipping later, their clothing was put to rights. Nodding to the clock on the wall bearing a neon Budweiser logo, Callie smiled. “Well, would you look at that—it’s midnight. Cheers.” She took a quick hit from the bottle—the bottle that was still sitting on the edge of the table where she’d placed it at the start of their game—before handing it to him. “What a way to ring in the new year, huh?”

He stared down at the label, the cloudy green glass. “Champagne.”


“You’re supposed to have champagne on New Year’s, not whiskey.”

She rolled her eyes as she settled her glasses across the bridge of her nose. “If you’re determined be traditional about it, I’m sure there are some flutes behind the bar we can drink the Jameson out of.”

“Fine, no champagne.” Putting the bottle back on the table without drinking from it, he stepped closer to her, looping one arm around her waist and tugging her into him. “But we’ll do one thing right for the holiday.” And he kissed her.

Her lips carried the chill burn of Irish whiskey, and were as soft and perfect as he’d suspected she might be back when they sat at the bar, spelling words at one another. Sinking his fingers into the cool fall of her ponytail, he tilted her head to a better angle and teased his tongue past her lips.

She tasted like she fucked, he thought, licking deeper, a mix of wild and sweet, but it was the wild he wanted more, and he wanted it now. “Amychesis,” he murmured against her mouth, nipping at the lush lower lip that had been pressed against the table only minutes earlier.

“Hm?” She held him in place with the fists she’d curled into his shirt, making him want to smile.

Instead, he lifted his head. “Amychesis. You owe me a scratch or two.”

After eyeing him speculatively, for a moment in which he found himself holding his breath, she grinned. “Then it’s a good thing I only live five blocks away. Let’s lock this place up.”

New Year’s Day • 00h22

“You got condoms?” The second the door to Callie’s apartment closed behind them, he attacked the buttons on her cardigan, wanting the satisfaction of getting her naked with his own hands. “I only had the one on me.”

She nodded as she shrugged out of the sweater. “Bathroom, bottom drawer under the counter. A whole box.”

“Good. We’ll be needing them.” A careful tug removed the elastic holding her hair in place, and he fisted the loose strands in both hands to draw her to him for another kiss. The taste of her was addictive, clouding his thoughts and driving home the near-desperate sense that this was all just beginning.

Already, he needed to be inside her again.

His lips trailed down her throat as he freed the clasp of her bra before yanking it away, and then he was filling his hands with her, thumbing her nipples into hardened points just begging to be sucked. So he gripped her by the waist and lifted, pressing her back against the door and tonguing one rosy nipple into his mouth.

Her heels fell from her feet to the floor as she linked her ankles behind his back. The tight fit of her skirt made it difficult for his hips to wedge between her thighs, but one sharp pull had it bunching around her waist once more. He grunted when the hard ridge of his cock aligned with her pussy, separated by the layers of his jeans and briefs, but fuck, it felt so damn perfect to be locked against her like this.

Her fingers clutched at his hair as he licked her, sucked her. “Oh, God. Reid….”

Something to hold onto, indeed. He smiled as he kissed a path between her breasts, grinding his hips into hers as he found her other nipple. “You’re so sensitive,” he mumbled into her breast. And she was, having turned into a live wire in his arms the second his lips closed around her. He heard the soft thunk of her skull falling back against the door and realized he’d fuck her right here if he wasn’t careful.

Which was why he settled her back on her feet, ignoring her mew of complaint and the complaining his own body was doing. “Everything off,” he said as he drew his t-shirt over his head. “Skirt, garter, stockings—all of it.”

Even her glasses had disappeared by the time he’d kicked off his boots and jeans, but she took over the task of getting his underwear off herself, and sank to her knees as she slid the cotton over his hips and down his legs. When she licked her palm and grasped his shaft, it was on the tip of his tongue to say no, she didn’t have to…but he kept his mouth shut and cupped the back of her head, instead.

He groaned when her lips closed around the head of his cock, and again when her tongue found the sensitive bundle of nerves just beneath. “Fuck, yeah.” Her head bobbed, lips a tight ring sliding around him, the wet heat of her mouth as dangerously tempting as other wet, hot parts of her. His hand clenched in her hair while she sucked him, each drag of her slick tongue telling him to fuck her mouth a little harder, showing her what he liked…and finding out she liked it, too.

Eventually he had to pull back or risk coming, and as much as he relished the thought of watching her swallow, Reid wanted another go at her pussy. He wanted to feel her clench around him. He wanted to gaze down into that pretty face of hers and see her lips part on a scream of pleasure.

That scream had better be his name. “Condoms. Now.”

With a grin, she scrambled to her feet, grabbing his hand and leading him quickly down a hallway. Flipping a light switch on the other side of an open door, she momentarily blinked against the glare of overhead fluorescents before digging in a drawer under the bathroom counter. “Here,” she said, tossing him the box of condoms as she hit the light again. One eyebrow arched as she studied him. “You said we’d need all of them?”

“Every last one. Bedroom?”

Again, she took his hand and led him through the next door into her bedroom, not bothering to turn on any lights. He didn’t mind, and used the dark to his advantage as he caught her around the waist and fell onto the bed, pulling her with him.

Her legs tangled with his as she kissed her way across his chest, over the tattoo he’d had inked there last year, and up to his neck. Tossing the box to the bedspread next to him, he wrapped both arms around her, needing to feel every last inch of her body under his palms. When she nipped at his chin, he put her on her back in a swift move and settled between her legs. “I can play with you like this all night,” he told her as cupped one breast, pinching and rolling her nipple until she squirmed and panted. “Do you want me to?”

She shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again before glaring at him through eyes hazy with lust. “Stop flirting and fuck me already.” Her hips bucked beneath him, leaving the shaft of his cock slick where she rubbed against him.

Laughing, he tore into the box, unwrapped a condom, and slid it on. Settling over her, he asked, “You gonna scratch me, baby?” He caught her earlobe between his teeth as he felt the first press of fingernails into his shoulders. “Do it. Dig your nails into me. Leave a fucking mark.” Hooking his hands under her knees, he pushed into her.

“Oh, fuck, Reid,” she moaned as he began to thrust. Tight and wet and hot and fucking hell, he wanted to come so bad. He was already toeing the line after her blow job, after having his hands all over her naked body and his mouth on her tits, but she needed to come first. He had to feel her pussy squeezing his cock to death, so that when he did finally come, he could die happy.

Her nails scored his shoulder blades, and he found himself laughing, his hips pumping harder in time to her whimpers. “That’s right, baby. Who’s fucking you?”

“You are.”

“What’s my name?”

“Reid. God, Reid.”

Pushing her knees higher, he changed the angle of his thrusts, thrilled and relieved when he felt her inner muscles start to flutter around him. “You gonna come for me?”

She simply moaned and reached a hand between them to rub her clit, and fuck, that was hot, watching her push herself over the edge. And then she did shout his name, voice gone hoarse, and he couldn’t hold back the rush of his orgasm. Fastening his lips to hers in a wild, open-mouthed kiss, he came.

It was long minutes later before either of them moved, but eventually his fried brain cells ordered him to ditch the condom and crawl back into the bed beside her. He draped an arm across her, feeling the sweat cool on his skin. “Think we’re going to have to wait ’til morning before we attempt round three.”

“Morning?” There was a pause. “I figured this was, you know…just one night.”

“You figured wrong.” He had every intention of working her fine body again and again, until she forgot each goddamn syllable in that extensive vocabulary of hers. Until all she remembered to spell was R-E-I-D.

Reid, yes.

Reid, more.

God, Reid, fuck me harder.

This woman made him feel ten goddamn feet tall, and it wasn’t only the sex. It was her, Callie. The teacher and intellectual, the pool shark, the woman who’d lock up a dive bar for a friend. Callie, whom he’d noticed the second she had walked into the Fickle Flyer, who made him want to stay back when his friends were leaving, and who lit him up like the fucking Fourth of July on steroids with a single look from behind her prim-and-proper glasses.

No, one night wasn’t going to cut it for him, and, judging from the softness in her gaze as she watched him now, it wasn’t going to cut it for her, either. “I’ve got a deployment coming up,” he confessed quietly.

She frowned, pressing her cheek deeper into the pillow. “When?”

“In a week.”

Quiet filled the bedroom for a long moment before she said, “I’m still on winter break for the next week.”


“Isn’t it, though?” A smile started to form. “I vote we spend it in bed.”

He felt himself smiling in return. “Just in bed?”

“God, no. Only if we get lazy. Or bored.”

Funny thing: Reid had a feeling that boredom wasn’t even on the radar with Callie, and that made him one lucky S-O-B.

2013, 2015 © by Edie Harris