Rough Around the Edges

by Ranae Rose

  She moaned and parted her lips, letting him slip his tongue into her mouth in an easy motion. The taste of her pussy lingered on his tongue, and coupled with the flavor of her kiss, it was intoxicating. His head spun as he pulled her tight against him, leaning into the counter.

  His phone rang again and he let it cycle through the ringtone once before ending the kiss and stepping back with a groan, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Hello?” His lips felt swollen from so much contact with her body.

  It was his father. “Ryan. You should be at the apartment by now. Have you eaten lunch yet?”

  “No, we haven’t.”

  “Let’s meet now then. We held off on lunch so we could eat with you. Do you still have your heart set on that Tomasino’s place?”

  “Yeah.” It wasn’t just that Tomasino’s Brick Oven was relatively nearby, or that it had once been his favorite restaurant. It was the fact that if he let his father choose their meeting place, it would be somewhere where he’d look like a moron trying to enter in jeans. There was absolutely no question of going somewhere where a jacket was required – the only garment he could fit over his cast was a cotton hoodie with a lot of stretch.

  “All right. You brought your girlfriend, right? She didn’t back out?”

  “Of course she’s here.” He hadn’t told his parents anything about Ally, really, other than the fact that they were together, but his father’s pragmatic suspicion was still grating.

  “We’ll see you both then at Tomasino’s. Your mother and I will be there already by the time you arrive.”

  “Okay.” After ending the call, he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

  Ally was gazing directly into his eyes when he looked up at her again. “About your question,” she said. “I don’t think this place will really feel like home until we finish this.” She smiled, eyes flitting down to where her thighs were still spread.

  A bolt of mingled longing and regret sliced through him, translating to a deep ache that settled into his balls. “You’re right. Damn.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That was my father on the phone. He and my mother want us to meet them for dinner.”

  “Right now?” She glanced toward the kitchen stove, where a digital clock showed that it was only two o’clock.

  “He said they’d figured we’d be hungry after our flight, so they put off lunch to eat with us.”

  “Oh.” She eased her thighs shut, frowning. “Sorry.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” What if he took her right then? It wouldn’t take long…

  No. On second thought, it would be good to have something to long for – something to look forward to as he endured the meeting with his parents. It was hard to imagine it going pleasantly. After all, there was the furniture they’d forced on him. He’d have to say something about that, or they’d only continue doing similar things.

  Ally slid down from the counter and began to dress. “Are we going somewhere nearby?”

  “It’s not too far. I chose the location – it was one of my favorite restaurants when I lived here.”

  “What kind of place is it? Not formal, I hope?”

  “Not at all. It’s an Italian place. Definitely casual.” He extended a hand, eager to let his fingers interlace with hers. Whatever was about to happen would be better than it would’ve been without her at his side. “Ready to go?”

  * * * * *

  Despite the disparity between who he’d been when he’d last entered Tomasino’s and who he was now, when he stepped through the restaurant’s front doors, it felt as if no time at all had passed. The scents of tomato and garlic were the same, and it looked as if they hadn’t moved a single thing over the past several years. Ryan marveled at the sameness of it all, until his gaze settled on a table in the far left corner.

  The illusion of time-suspension shattered as he laid eyes on his family. “Looks like my brother came, too,” he said for Ally’s benefit as they started toward the table. As the realization that nothing was even remotely the same as it had been before settled in, he pressed a hand against the small of Ally’s back and rubbed the curve of her spine.

  His family members looked like he remembered. His father sat rigidly in an expensive suit, as always, while his mother looked elegant and privileged in a deceptively simple outfit, her blonde hair twisted up into some kind of bun. And his brother, Stephen, was basically a younger version of their father – a familiar but unlined face in a designer suit, his hair brown instead of salt-and-pepper grey. Had any of them changed at all?

  The thought rang through him like gunshot. A sick feeling warned him that they probably hadn’t, that if he hadn’t fit in well among them before, that had been nothing compared to the trouble he’d have now.

  His mother was smiling, though. It was a tentative smile, but that somehow made it seem more genuine. It was a nice change from the memories of her frequent frowns that crowded his mind.

  “We had the waiter put two tables together,” Ryan’s father said. “This place isn’t really equipped for groups bigger than four.” He looked briefly in Ally’s direction, then directly at Ryan. “It’s good to have you back.” He extended a hand.

  It was the wrong hand. With his cast, Ryan couldn’t shake it – at least, not gracefully.

  His father took one look at the cast and switched hands without skipping a beat.

  “This is Ally,” Ryan said when the handshake was over. “Ally, this is my father Patrick, my mother Cecilia and my brother Stephen.”

  “It’s nice to meet you all.” Ally shook everyone’s hand. Cecilia was the only one who smiled at her.

  Ryan pulled out a chair for Ally and they settled down at the table, across from his family, who looked a lot like a board of hiring executives ready to interview a couple of hapless job applicants.

  “You two certainly look like you belong together.” Cecilia’s thin smile stretched a little wider as she nodded at them. “Did you get into an accident together, or did one of you decide to imitate the other?”

  “Separately,” Ryan said. “I fractured my wrist in a work accident. Ally’s injury happened at home.”

  “Oh? What kind of work were you doing in Baltimore?”

  “Construction.”

  Patrick leaned forward, looking interested in the conversation for the first time. “Construction. What was your position?”

  “Laborer. I built roofs.”

  Ryan’s reply was like a bucket of cold water thrown over a candle. The light faded immediately from his father’s eyes, and he sat in silence.

  “Was that the best job you could get after getting out of the military?” Cecilia asked, breaking the quiet spell. “I mean, didn’t they teach you anything there that would give you some sort of edge in the job market?”

  So much for banishing the awkwardness. But then, his parents had always handled things this way – head on, without any reservations or simple social courtesies. “I took the first job I could get. It wasn’t like I had a fat bank account backing me up. I needed work, and roofing was work.”

  “Well,” Patrick said, freeing his silverware from his napkin and lowering the latter into his lap, “I think we can find you a much better position at Greene & Jacobs.”

  “I’m not asking for anything I’m not suited for. I want a position where I can actually be useful, though I’m willing to be trained.” The last thing he wanted was to rot in a corner office, a useless figurehead of authority and a joke among other Greene & Jacobs employees.

  “Well, we won’t be putting you out in the field if that’s what you mean.” Patrick shook his head, frowning. “For Christ’s sake, I’m not going to give my own son a job where he’ll be in danger of breaking his arm.” He smiled, but the expression was only momentary, and it never reached his eyes.

  A flash of annoyance struck Ryan, sharp and paralyzing. Why did everything about his father have to be so fake, so condescending?

  “Let’s talk about this later,” Cecilia
said. “Ryan just got here. He doesn’t want to talk about jobs.”

  “He came here for a job,” Patrick said. “Of course he wants to talk about jobs.”

  A waiter materialized beside the table, and Ryan had never been so glad to see a total stranger.

  Ally ordered the chicken parmesan and Ryan ordered his favorite ravioli, though the idea of eating it no longer appealed to him like it had when he’d first walked through the doors and inhaled the aromas of Italian cooking.

  Stephen made an attempt at changing the direction of the conversation by asking about Baltimore and what the city was like. He didn’t look or sound particularly interested, but anything was better than listening to their father dole out judgment. Ryan tried to describe the Inner Harbor, though Ally supplied most of the details.

  Truth was, he’d never made a real effort to become familiar with the city. Yeah, he’d walked and driven some of its streets, but only the ones he’d needed to in order to get to work, the gym or other places of necessity. When he’d gone to the harbor, he’d had more on his mind than the water and surrounding attractions. Of all the times he’d gone there, the ones where Ally had been by his side stood out most vividly, and he’d spared little attention for anything besides her then.

  Cecilia nodded continuously, eyes flickering back and forth between Ryan and Ally. Meanwhile, Patrick sat straight-backed in his chair, looking like he’d rather watch paint dry than hear about Baltimore.

  When the food arrived, it was the perfect excuse to stop talking about things no one cared about. He made it halfway through his plate of ravioli – which was good, there was no denying – before Cecilia started asking questions again.

  “How do you like the furnishings?” she asked. “I kept it simple – just the basics so you could decorate in your own style.”

  “You didn’t have to furnish the place at all. I want to pay my own way, with my own money. I’ll reimburse you for the moving expenses and the furniture after I get my feet on the ground at work and pay off some medical bills.” God knew how long that would take, even with a good salary, but he’d do it.

  A crease appeared between Cecilia’s eyes as she froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. “You don’t have to—”

  “Consider the furniture a housewarming gift,” Patrick interrupted. “It’s not a crime for us to give you one of those, is it?”

  Chapter 24

  Ryan shoved a forkful of ravioli into his mouth and forced himself to chew before replying. The rich flavors of cheese, mushroom and oregano neutralized the words that had jumped to the tip of his tongue, ones he wouldn’t have been able to take back. “Fine. Thanks. But no more sending town cars. And no more extravagant gifts.”

  When he and Ally had exited their new apartment building, a town car had been waiting for them, sent by his father. They’d accepted the ride, but it wouldn’t happen again.

  “Speaking of cars, yours is parked in the garage at our place. Ready for you whenever you’re able to drive again.”

  Ryan nodded. He’d pick it up as soon as he had a chance. Maybe then his parents would stop sending town cars to his building.

  Would Ally want to continue learning to drive in New York? He could maybe take her outside the city, to some less crowded roads, if she didn’t want to plunge into navigating the gridlock traffic right away.

  As memories of the city’s shitty traffic flooded back to him, a bolt of agony lanced through his head, hitting the wall of his skull and stopping, throbbing at his temple. The timing had only been a coincidence; even driving through Manhattan at rush hour was infinitely less stressful than a single meal with his parents. The pain was strong though, and insistent, like a clinging parasite that dug sharp claws deep into the soft tissue of his brain. He’d be in hell soon. He pressed a hand to his head, willing the encroaching migraine to slow its progress.

  “Can I get a to-go box?” Ryan asked the waiter when he appeared with a pitcher of ice water. “Thanks.”

  “You know, if the food’s not good, you don’t have to take it home,” Patrick said.

  “The food is good.” Ryan accepted the box that the waiter returned with. “But Ally and I have got to get going.”

  “Tomorrow,” Patrick said. “Let’s meet for lunch tomorrow, and we can discuss your prospects at Greene & Jacobs seriously.”

  “Right.” He’d agree to just about anything in order to get out of there quickly, before the pain became debilitating. Turning, he shifted his focus to Ally. “You mind putting the rest of your food in here and finishing it when we get home?”

  “Sure.” She scraped the remainder of her meal into the box, her gaze lingering just above his face as she transferred the rest of his food into the container, too.

  “I’ll call you and let you know where.” Patrick was already glancing toward the door.

  “Talk to you then.” Ryan grabbed the box and stood.

  When Ally rose to stand beside him, he placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her out of the restaurant. They took a cab home.

  When they got off the elevator and walked through the door of their new place for the second time, Ally rushed to his suitcase. “Where’s your medication?”

  “The front pocket – the one with the zipper.”

  She raised a bottle of rattling pills and handed it to him.

  He dumped a few into his hand, picked two and swallowed them.

  “Do you want a glass of water?”

  “No. I’m fine.” He replaced the cap and set the bottle on top of his suitcase. “There’s something else I’d like, though.”

  “What?”

  He went to the kitchen and she followed, standing close beside him as he put the to-go box full of Italian food down beside the sink. “I was thinking we could pick up where we left off. It could be good preventative medicine.” It wasn’t a joke – just looking at her and being alone with her tempted him to smile despite the pain.

  She didn’t say anything, just stripped off her clothing, efficient if not graceful with one arm in a sling. Bandages or not, it was one of the hottest things he’d ever watched.

  He undressed too, and when they embraced, the hot press of her body against his instantly took the edge off his pain, or at least insulated his thoughts and senses against it. Her heart beat against his chest, the rhythm faint but steady, and each beat dispelled some of the anger he’d brought home from the meeting with his family.

  He ran a hand down the graceful curves of her body, from her shoulder all the way to her ass, cupping one cheek and drawing her close. His cock pressed into her belly until he lifted her onto the counter, just like he had earlier that afternoon.

  She’d looked good up there naked from the waist down. Completely nude on top of the faux-granite surface, she looked amazing. Pale sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, illuminating her from behind and highlighting her trademark halo.

  Her breasts were level with his chest and her nipples looked as hard as the surface she was sitting on. “Guess I need to figure out where the thermostat is in here,” he said, touching one and teasing it with his fingertips.

  “Later,” she said. “Not now.”

  The urgency in her voice hit him hard, resonating somewhere deep inside his chest. “Later,” he agreed. “The only thing I want right now is to be inside you.”

  He nearly was. His hips were level with the counter, level with her pussy. Her folds were exposed to him; he stood between her spread thighs, cock reaching for her. He took half a step forward, resisting a shiver that raced down his spine when the head of his dick brushed her clit. “One second. I put a couple condoms in my wallet before we left for the airport.”

  It wouldn’t be long before they could stop using them altogether, when she was done with her antibiotics. He hadn’t forgotten that, not for a second.

  His fingers weren’t too difficult to move anymore, despite the fact that he still wore his cast. His wrist had started itching more than hurting, the curse of
a healing bone, and his fingers were much more mobile than they’d been at first. It didn’t take him long to put on a condom, rolling it to the base of his shaft and gripping himself there, guiding himself inside her.

  She rocked her hips in a subtle motion that facilitated his entrance. Sliding into the heat and tightness of her body, he sighed.

  She did the same and tipped back her head, eyes closed. It was amazing how her every movement affected the degree of pressure her body exerted, the feel of her walls wrapped around his dick. For a few seconds he didn’t even move, just stood there and let himself be overwhelmed by the feeling of being inside her, a perfect fit, like a lock and key.

  She was outwardly still too, but not on the inside. Her channel seized up around him, eased a little and then tightened again. Feeling that while watching her thighs tremble on either side of his hips was like a drug. It sped through his system, washing away his awareness of pain and making him feel stronger, more focused, more alive.

  When he thrust into her, her breath hitched, a sound that made his heart surge ahead, beating faster.

  Wrapping her good arm around him, she gripped one of his ass cheeks, letting her nails dig in. Her hold kept her hips tighter against his and allowed him to push deeper into her. The sheer pleasure of feeling her flesh yield to his prompted him to press a hand between her thighs and massage her clit, eager to make sure she came before he did.

  It worked. She arched her back, shuddered and gasped, her pussy rippling with a series of contractions that forced all the air from his lungs, leaving him mute as he continued to fuck her, lost in the intensity.

  She gasped things, things he couldn’t understand but relished the sound of anyway.

  When her orgasm ended he slowed, remembering to be gentle. “Are you okay?” Her hair was like silk against his fingers when he cupped the back of her skull, looking into her eyes.

  “Yes.” She was still gripping his ass – hard. It felt good.

  “Good. I want to keep going.” With his fingers threaded through thick locks of her hair, he guided her mouth to his and kissed her deeply. “I want to keep going for a while – I want to stay inside you until it hurts not to come.”