Rough Around the Edges

by Ranae Rose

  “And Cameron wants you to defeat him?”

  “Exactly.” He was already looking forward to it.

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him I’d be there. But not before he promised me twice the usual prize money just for competing. More if I win. Oh, and he’s giving me some training sessions at no cost, too.” He was also looking forward to the extra benefits Cameron had promised him.

  “Wow, he really is in a generous mood. Are you sure he hasn’t got a crush on you?”

  He returned her grin as she reached for him, touching a hand to his jaw. “I’m going to get a quick shower before we get out of here. If Cameron tries anything while I’m in there, tell him you’re mine.”

  “I’ll do that.” The heat of her fight-warmed hand lingered on his jaw after she disappeared into the locker room, and his head buzzed faintly, as if he’d just been hit, only there was no pain, just a faint sense of shock. He really was hers – the fact that he was standing there like an idiot, stunned just because she’d said so, even in jest, was proof of it.

  * * * * *

  Stressful days guaranteed nightmares. That was why Ryan had spent the afternoon and evening trying to shove thoughts of work tension out of his mind. Easier said than done. The company had picked up another project that would begin in a couple weeks and would require extra hours – ones Ryan could actually swing.

  But he hadn’t been asked. The same guys who were working the government repair job had been invited and they’d jumped at the chance for more overtime.

  It wasn’t even really being denied the opportunity to earn overtime pay that grated. It was the fact that his foreman had been treating him like he was some kind of slacker ever since he’d turned down the chance to work on the government building job. He was obviously out of favor – what if he lost his job?

  He needed it. He didn’t have much, but if he lost his position with the roofing contractor, he could kiss what he did have goodbye.

  He’d managed to forget about the issue – mostly – while at the gym, but returning to his empty apartment had been like stepping inside his own head, away from the world and surrounded by the crushing pressure of his own thoughts. It was quiet, so damn quiet, but the silence spoke to him, saying things he didn’t want to hear.

  Laying his head down on a cool pillow sometime around eleven wasn’t even a relief. Before his skin managed to heat the cotton pillowcase, he’d slipped into sleep and the dream.

  He’d had it dozens of times if he’d had it once, and that was only counting the times he could remember.

  It didn’t always end the same, but it usually started out the same – riding through the desert in the Humvee, part of a convoy that dominated the road, separate from civilian traffic.

  The heat was oppressive, just like it always was during daylight hours. The day was no different than usual; the mechanical drone of the Humvee’s engine and the pungent scent of his own sweat laced with lingering traces of laundry detergent weren’t comfortable, but they were familiar. The world was sweltering, the ride a little bumpy thanks to the shitty job someone had done paving the road.

  And then there was light – blinding light and sound. The loudest thing he’d ever heard. If there had ever been an illusion of safety in numbers, it was shattered in that moment, a casualty of the deafening blast. Glass crackled and shock reigned; pain would come later. His senses began to fail as darkness swallowed the flash of light, a cloud of smoke and debris and God knew what else.

  “Holy fuck!” someone yelled – himself? Someone else? He never knew – not in real life, not in the dream. But he agreed inside his head as his brain rattled against his skull. Holy fuck, indeed.

  This was where the holes in his memory began in real life. In the dream, he watched from above – or was it below? The Humvee had rolled over. Wherever he was watching from, he could see blood staining the remains of his tattered pants, the camo fabric hanging in flaps that offered peeks at the raw hamburger part of his left thigh had been reduced to.

  It could’ve been worse. A lot worse. He could’ve been killed like Gibson, who was beside him – partially on top of him, really – and unmistakably dead.

  It wasn’t just the fact that Ryan knew he was dreaming, knew Gibson had been killed – it was the twisted piece of metal sticking out of Gibson’s neck, as long as a ka-bar’s blade and just as deadly. It was so gnarled that later they’d realize it had a hundred edges if it had one; it would be impossible to handle without gloves, no matter how it was held. So it was no surprise that Gibson was dead, sitting still with a shining patch of crimson wetting the front of his jacket like a bib.

  But it was a surprise that Ryan could see the carnage from his hovering vantage point, everything from the way Gibson’s pale blue eyes were open in permanent surprise to the way the hollow at the base of his throat was still, pulseless. He hadn’t seen these things when they’d happened, had only heard about them later. Or had he?

  Certainty washed over him, thick and stifling. He’d seen it; he remembered it now, in the dream. Maybe he hadn’t seen it all from above Gibson, but he’d seen it from beside him, had breathed in the coppery tang of blood along with the billowing smoke created by the explosion as he’d looked into his dead friend’s eyes. It was a hole in his memory he would’ve rather left unfilled.

  Maybe he wouldn’t remember it when he woke up.

  He did. When he jerked awake, the memory clung to him just like the sweat-dampened sheets. It refused to fade, even when he got up and ripped the soaked linens off the bed, hating the smell of his own sweat and eventually lying down on the bare mattress, the muscles in his left thigh knotted and aching.

  Chapter 9

  The past four nights had been so miserable that the scent of his sweat and fear had to be lingering in the apartment’s stale air. Maybe it was just his imagination; Ally’s expression didn’t change as they stepped over the threshold. When he’d opened the door, he’d half expected her nose to wrinkle up the way it had the first time she’d spoken to him.

  Impulse drove him to lay his hands on her hips and draw her close. The top of her head brushed his chin and he breathed in, letting the clean, fruity scent of her hair obliterate the staleness in his lungs. “I’ve been thinking about you ever since Saturday morning. I’m going to show you a much better night here than last time. Promise.” Her hair was soft against his lips and jaw as he lowered his head, pressing his mouth to hers.

  “It’s okay,” she said when the kiss ended. “About last time I mean.”

  “I wanted to give you a fun time, not force you into taking care of me. I made you act like a chauffeur, maid and nurse all in one night.” The desire to make up for what had happened then and show her a better time burnt inside him like acid. If he didn’t pull it off, it would eat him alive from the inside out.

  “I’m glad I was here.”

  She looked like she meant it, sounded like she meant it. But it couldn’t be true. Maybe she was glad she’d been able to help him, but there was no way she didn’t regret that their date had sucked so badly.

  “I mean it. I don’t like to think about what would’ve happened to you if you’d been alone.”

  “Yeah, well—”

  “And,” she said, holding his gaze, “whatever you think about that night, it led to the morning after. I don’t regret that, do you?”

  “No.” A cold breeze drifted through the door, a stark contrast to his suddenly overheated skin. He finally pushed the door all the way shut, locking it. No fucking way did he regret it.

  “Then please don’t feel like you need to apologize to me for that night. You would’ve done the same thing for me if the situation had been reversed, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then there you go. It just happened. Anyone would’ve done the same thing. It’s not something you need to feel guilty over.”

  He reached out and took the DVD case she’d been holding ever since they’d left her house. “I sai
d I would’ve done the same for you, not that anyone would have. Lots of people wouldn’t have done what you did. You’re better than most people, and that’s why I want more than ever to give you a romantic night, not bleed on you.”

  Without saying anything else, she followed him to the couch and settled there while he put the DVD into the player.

  “I’m ready for you to romance me,” she said with a smile when he turned around.

  Her teasing words made the distance between them seem shorter than it had just a second ago. He joined her on the couch and pulled her close. The previews weren’t even over by the time she made it into his lap.

  He was fully hard from the moment she settled across his thighs – it had started when he’d embraced her by the door and breathed in her scent. He didn’t try to hide it. He could feel the hunger in her response as he kissed her, his lips trailing over her mouth, neck and collarbones, then to the little bit of cleavage her sweater left exposed.

  They never really watched the movie. Instead, he slipped a hand beneath her sweater and camisole, cupping one of her breasts from below. The weight and heat of it in his palm was teasing; as close as the contact was, her skin was separated from his by the cup of her bra. Gripping her top and cami in both hands, he slipped them over her head.

  When her hair tumbled over her bare shoulders, it released a faintly fragrant wave of scent. He enjoyed it until he gripped the clasp of her bra and worked it free – after that, everything but the sight of her faded from his mind.

  Her breasts were perfect – round and softer than any other part of her body. They didn’t really fit into the palms of his hands and he liked that, just like he liked the way her nipples were hard against his fingertips and the way her heart beat, so strong he could feel it.

  He lowered his head toward the generous swell of one breast, traced the flesh that spilled over the edge of his hand with the tip of his tongue and drew the nipple into his mouth. The tip was stiff against his tongue, her skin unbelievably soft. But the thing that really made his dick throb was the way she leaned into him, rocking her hips against his as he sucked and caressed her other breast with his free hand.

  It felt good – maddeningly good. They were both wearing jeans, but the feeling of her pussy wrapped tight around his cock was fresh in his memory. Releasing her nipple, he leaned back and slipped a hand between their bodies.

  She moved with him, her fingers tangling with his as she slipped out of her jeans and fuck-me sheer panties. The sight of those lying draped over the arm of the couch, the pink lace dark with dampness where it had touched the lips of her pussy, sent a bolt of urgency straight through him. She’d planned for this, she’d wanted it – he hadn’t fucked everything up last time. His relief was almost as strong as his desire.

  He gripped her with a hand on each of her ass cheeks and drew her close, so she straddled him.

  She swung a leg over his in a fluid motion that made her breasts bounce. He had to bite his inner lip to keep from releasing a string of expletives as she lowered her hands to his hips, her hard nipples brushing his chest as she undid the button above his fly.

  As soon as she unzipped him he gripped his underwear in his fist and pulled it down, freeing his cock. Getting inside her was all he could think about, until realization hit him. “Damn.”

  “What’s wrong?” She raised her gaze to meet his eyes.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to do the last thing I actually want you to do – let me up.” His bedroom was only a couple yards from the couch, but with her so close and tempting, it seemed a million miles away.

  She slid off him, but trailed her fingertips across the head of his cock as she moved.

  “Be right back.” Fighting for a hold on his willpower, he rose from the couch.

  He wasted no time in retrieving a condom from the dresser and returning, just as hard as he’d been when he’d left. “Just like before,” he said after sinking back onto the couch and rolling the condom down over his shaft. “I want to see and feel you come while you sit in my lap.” It would be so easy to fuck that way on the couch – perfect.

  A second later, she was straddling him again.

  All it took was a slight flex of his hips and the head of his dick was sliding against her slick skin. “You’re so wet.” Unable to resist, he slipped a hand between her legs and felt the moisture on her folds. The way she breathed – hard enough that he could feel her breath rushing against his chest – made it seem like she liked it, so he continued, just barely dipping his fingertips into her entrance.

  A few moments of teasing her were all he could take. Gripping himself by the shaft, he angled his cock toward her swollen lips and began the wet, hot slide into her body.

  As he filled her, she leaned forward, bracing herself with one hand against the back of the couch and the other on his shoulder. “I know,” she said, her voice as soft as her lips were against his ear. “Thinking about what it will feel like when you slide inside me makes me so wet it hurts not to have you here.” She moved her hips, sending him even deeper inside her. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since Saturday morning.”

  She couldn’t have made it harder for him not to come if she’d tried. For a second, he didn’t dare move, even though nothing seemed more appealing. His frustration manifested itself in a sound – a growl, or something more than a moan, anyway.

  When he began moving again he took it slow but made each stroke count, thrusting deep inside her and relishing the way her channel tightened around his cock in response.

  “Will you think about this,” he breathed, “after you leave tonight? When you lie down in your own bed to sleep and when you wake up in the morning... Will you think about me inside you like this, Ally?” Her body was in tune with his now – pulsing, trembling. Would she remember how it felt – how well they fit together – later?

  “Yes.” Her tone was breathy but sure.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Because I’ll be thinking about you too.” There was no way he’d be able to keep from reliving this later. “When I’m this deep inside you… Fuck, I don’t think I know what pain is. You feel so good. I won’t be able to think about anything but getting inside you again.”

  Nothing else mattered when he was inside her. The intensity of being wrapped in her heat and wetness demanded all his attention, snared all his focus – everything else was just a memory. Her body was forgetfulness and bliss without violence – something he hadn’t realized was within reach until the first time he’d slid inside her. It was amazing. Fucking amazing.

  Before she could respond, he pressed a hand between their bodies and lowered it to where they were joined, finding her clit. It was swollen against his fingertips. He stimulated it as best he could in their current position, dying to feel her succumb to the pleasure he was giving her.

  It didn’t take long. Her pussy tightened around his cock and she gasped, her breath hitching as another pulse drew her channel even tighter around him.

  A split second later she was bearing down, widening her thighs and sinking low. His dick throbbed in her core as another spasm passed through it, making the muscles contract.

  A distinct feeling of wavering restraint washed through his body, making every muscle harden. The sound of her wild breathing intensified the sensation as agonizingly expectant moments rushed by. Pleasure crashed over him like a wave, sending him over the edge, and as her breathing slowed, his quickened. Blood rushed in his ears and he thrust harder, pushing for the inevitable.

  “Fuck yeah…”

  She rocked her hips too, matching his rhythm. The resulting friction was explosive. Every muscle in his body was tight and he was beyond coherent thought as he spilled himself inside her pussy’s tight embrace, balls close to his body and hers too, wet with her moisture.

  He rode out the last traces of pleasure, stopping only when it had faded and was replaced with a bone-deep, satisfaction-laced fatigue.

  When he was still, she leaned b
ack and released her grip on his shoulder, where she’d anchored herself with her nails. He could still feel the impressions they’d made, burning dully through the haze of his satisfaction. If he had his way, the feeling would linger forever, reminding him of where and how she’d held onto him.

  She smoothed her fingers over the marks, sending another wave of heat rippling through him as she leaned in and brushed a fleeting kiss across his temple.

  Thighs trembling, she rose, unsheathing him, and settled beside him on the couch with a small sigh.

  It would’ve been nice to simply sit and enjoy the soft weight of her body leaning against his, but he rose instead to dispose of the condom in the kitchen trashcan. It wasn’t until he returned to the couch that he glanced at the TV screen. The credits were scrolling – they’d kissed and fucked through the entire movie.

  It didn’t matter – the sight of her pink lace panties on the armrest reminded him that she probably hadn’t intended to really watch the movie anyway.

  He tucked his softening cock back into his underwear and zipped his jeans before sinking onto the couch again.

  “How’s your head?” Ally met his eyes for half a moment before letting her gaze drift higher, presumably to the butterfly bandage above his temple. He’d been imitating her original job daily, replacing it.

  “Fine.”

  She reached for his head and swept her fingers through his short bangs. “Does it hurt?”

  He shook his head. The motion sent her fingers sweeping through his hair and over the curve of his skull – a lucky consequence. The gentle press of her fingertips against the back of his head dispelled tension he hadn’t even realized was there. “The wound is barely an inch long, if that. I’ve had much worse. Don’t worry about it.”