by Trixie More
In the days that followed, her mother had been one of the Miss Bells of the world. Undone, grief-stricken, fleeing from the mundane and escaping into the news, minute by minute. At night, she would hear her father and her mother arguing, her mother begging Harry to go with her, to leave. Buffalo was mentioned so often that, to Allison, it had begun to sound like a fairyland. Buffalo, if we could only go to Buffalo, then her mother could start to find a way back to normal. It never was that easy, was it?
Her mother hadn’t been one for routine. She’d had rituals, like feeding Ringer at the same time every day. She had rituals around her crafting; she used to sit at her potter’s wheel, her hands covered in wet clay, the wheel spinning. Rituals around preparing the clay, getting Allison settled in the backyard with her, and then working the clay, while the radio played. Then, they had lived in a house all their own. Later the house, the potter’s wheel, and her mother were gone, replaced by the apartment above Mrs. Petrov’s, ritual replaced by routines. Parents replaced by the endless work her father did, tax season taking him from her as surely as the fear of terror took her mother from her.
Allison looked up, scanned the ceiling, counted the sprinklers. Did they actually still work? Was there water still flowing in the thin pipes that connected them, one to another? Her eyes drifted to the nightstand behind Derrick. He’d taken her side of the bed last night, and she’d been so happy to have him with her, she’d never said a word. Now, he was between her and the fire extinguisher she had on the lower shelf of the stand.
Beneath her palm, Derrick’s chest rose up on a deeper breath. He was waking. She looked at his sleeping face. He looked much younger this way, and she could see he would have been a beautiful teenager. Had he been optimistic and open in his youth? Now he was often stern and guarded. He should have been a cop or a soldier for all he kept his mouth shut and just observed. Allison held herself perfectly still, hoping to prolong this moment, hoping he stayed asleep, under the white comforter, here in her bed. She hoped he stayed.
She’d been thinking last night. Derrick had felt it. He was a light sleeper, and in a new bed, he woke often, swimming up from his dream state to observe her movements. They’d stayed perfectly spooned for most of the night, but as dawn crept closer, she’d turned into him, one palm on his chest, one arm curled up to her own breast. He’d drifted back to sleep then, only to rouse enough to realize she must have been awake, her breathing, perhaps, giving it away. But he’d been dog-tired. Not ready to make good on his threats from the night before, not willing to relinquish his place in her magically comfortable bed, not wanting to speak or listen, so he’d kept his eyes closed and just let her think. She’d drifted off again, to his great happiness, and he’d curled onto his side, facing away, with her hands on his back, her legs creeping between his, one hand flung over his hip, her fingers resting over his cock. Now, he was rested. He smiled to himself as he let himself come awake, his rod beneath her rough fingers stiff and ready.
Behind him, she moaned, and her fingers curled. He groaned back so she would know he was ready to wake up. Her hand slid slowly up his cock, fingers trailing separately so that it was hard to tell which one would move next, he felt himself jerk a bit, her fingers starting to slide easier as they trailed through a bit of moisture seeping from his tip.
“Mmm … someone’s really awake,” she mumbled. “It’s not me.” He grinned to himself. One thing he loved, he was never guessing about what she was thinking. He turned, bracing one hand on the mattress so he could look down on her, have room to reposition her. She was smiling, her hair floating in a fuzzy aura around her face, her eyes screwed shut.
“Get ready,” he whispered and her brow creased, but she was smiling deeper and trying to pull the sparkling white comforter back over herself. He used his other hand to start her turning. “Roll.”
“Umm … not the first time, I want to see your face.”
“You’re gonna see everything there is to see, Allie.” Below him, she smiled, opened her eyes, slightly tipped and dark-lashed, and the look in them brought an ache in his chest and a tightening in his groin.
“Move.”
She rolled to her side, presenting him with a view of her with her legs bent, her absolute masterpiece of an ass looking like a gift, packed into a snug and pristine waft of cotton. An image of that ass, the round cheeks pink from a smack or two, brought his arousal around full-bore.
“Condom?” she asked, the flush he’d just imagined on her splendid ass, showing up on her cheeks. Why would she be embarrassed to ask him for that? Understanding shot through him. She could tell people what to do, but she couldn’t ask for anything.
That worked for him. Derrick was dying to tell Allison what to do for once. However, the condom thing was in question. He might have one in his wallet, but it was probably in poor condition, having been there for a while.
“Do you have any?” he asked. Allison gestured behind her at the nightstand.
“In the drawer, better check the date on them though.” Her bossy voice crept in. “And no cheating.”
He rolled over and opened the drawer, hesitating when he noticed the fire extinguisher lying on the low shelf. He thought about her feet. Inside, he found a box and checked the date. “Expires three months from now. You good with that?”
“Within the navigational beacons, we’re good.” Her voice had lost the sleepy tone. Derrick smiled to himself a little wryly. Life’s practicalities were coming in fast. He also had to piss like a racehorse.
“OK, here is what we’re going to do,” he said turning to her, kissing her shoulder, her bicep, where her shoulder blade rose beneath her smooth skin. “I’m going to go take a leak. We’re going to make coffee …”
“Noooooo,” she wailed. He smiled again.
“Yes, you’re coming with me. I’m going to borrow your toothbrush, and then, we’re coming back here to this magic bed, and we’re not leaving for two hours.”
She turned to him, her eyes wide. “That’s the longest sentence you’ve ever said to me.”
“It’s important.”
She smiled then, the look on her face soft and warm. “OK.”
Her room had a fire escape. Even if it didn’t, with Derrick sitting next to her, waiting for her to get out of her bed and go with him, she felt safer than she ever had. No matter what was beyond that door, they would be fine.
“It’ll be cold,” she said.
He looked around, eyed the closet and eyed her. A slow, sly smile quirked one side of his face. “Perfect.”
“Oh, you!” He wanted her to go nude instead of finding a robe. She flung the covers off, and her nipples puckered immediately. He stared right at them. She’d been wet as a beach at high tide for ten minutes now, so there’d been no doubt they would be ready at a glance from him. “Happy now?”
“Getting there,” he said, flipping the condom pack onto the dresser.
Allison felt a warmth and comfort she’d never associated with sex before. There was no heavy panting, no racing for the bedroom, no mystery. He wanted her, she wanted him, they both knew it. He wasn’t going to disappear, at least not today, and probably not tomorrow. She didn’t have to pretend to be nicer than she was. They would have coffee, they would bonk like rabbits. He’d said it, and she believed him. It was a new experience.
Then the man in question got out of bed and stood there nude, and she suddenly understood all the mystery was wrapped and tucked inside him. The deep bruising on his thighs caught her eyes again, she knew him well enough not ask now. Now, he was busy. She smiled. His dick curved toward his navel, his thighs corded and strong, his groin outlined with that sexy, sexy V of muscle. Holy everything. She couldn’t wait to unwrap him. He smiled wickedly. “Uh, uh. I told you the plan. Let’s go.”
Crap. Her roommate. She hadn’t had a man over since Dot had moved in.
“What?” he asked.
“Roommate,” she said.
He smiled. “I’ll pick up a towel in
the bathroom. So will you.”
He pulled the door open even as Allison was still mustering a reply. He leaned against the door, his full body exposed to the light streaming in from the hallway, light she knew was coming from the living room, where of course, Dot would have left the blinds up. He swept his hand before him. “After you.”
Crap. It was her house, she just had to get down the hallway without Dorothy seeing them. The thought that Derrick wanted to watch her walk out there naked, excited her. Dot could see Allison’s sorry ass for all she cared, but she didn’t want her gorgeous roommate, with her sparkly shoes and makeup, getting an eye on her man. Liquid seeped from his dick. He was getting off on this. She looked at his face, his dark eyes heavy-lidded, his stubborn jaw, a dark flush on his face. She smiled to herself. Two could play this game.
“It’s embarrassing,” she tried. “Please don’t make me.” Her pussy hummed. Her mouth went dry. Holy shit. She was lightheaded. Derrick swallowed, and Allison followed suit.
“Let’s go,” he croaked.
Allison moved toward the doorway, eyeing up his cock as she drew even with him. Was it getting darker? Hot and hot. “I don’t want my roommate to see you.” He scowled. She ran a finger down his dick, and it jerked like a pony. “You’re mine.”
Lightning. That’s what he was faster than. He had her back pressed against the doorjamb faster than Allison could say eat me. She bit her cheek hard. No laughing. That would not do. He had a wrist in each hand and had them stretched behind her. The doorjamb was against her ass, her left wrist against the hallway wall, her right wrist against the bedroom wall, her breasts thrusting forward. His cock rubbed against the grove between her thigh and her hip. She moved her leg to make that channel deeper, and he gave a thrust, looking her straight in the eye the whole time.
“How wet are you?” he asked and she gushed.
He thrust again. “Feel that?”
She swallowed. Derrick seemed to take that as a yes.
“I have never. Been. This. Hard.”
“Yessssss …” she hissed.
His voice lowered, his eyes narrowed.
“Get in that bathroom. Now.”
Between her legs, her arousal was exquisite. Tight and hot, electric. Derrick released her, and she raced for the bathroom. He followed her, footfalls heavy behind her. As she rounded the corner, the first smack landed on her ass. Oh, my fuck. She practically fell to her knees, the feelings gathering between her legs, in her pussy, were so strong. She got herself into the bathroom, and turned, her back to the tub. She should call him out for the indignity of it, but her eyes had never been so wide open, her arousal had never been this strong. She watched as he quietly, carefully closed the door, the snick of the latch, loud in the room. He walked closer to her, his face showing the same shock that must be on hers. He opened his mouth, and no sound came out. She launched herself at him, grabbing him by the hair, pulling him to her and he mashed his mouth against hers. This man, if crawling inside him wasn’t an option, swallowing him whole might work. This man, her man, must have felt the same, because he was pressing forward, bending her over his arm. Inside, her emotions roared. He broke the kiss.
“Turn around, I want to see the mark on your ass.”
“Turn around,” Derrick said. “I want to see the mark on your ass.” The words astonished him, but they also turned him on more than he would have ever believed. The siren in front of him had the same surreal experience. He could tell by the way she hadn’t said a word since she’d whispered, “You’re mine.” In front of him, Allison straightened her spine, pulling her shoulders back, which just thrust her tits higher, prouder, the rose brown nipples, God he loved the color of them, pointed at him thickly. Standing barefoot on the cold black and white tile, Allison pivoted, raising up on her toes, their perfect nails, pink and pretty. She kept her feet in place and turned, twisting so that her legs were crossed, her back to him now. She stopped, looking over her shoulder at him. In her eyes, he saw the same tidal wave of lust that was swamping him. He fuckin’ growled at her.
Her lower back curved in delicious twin grooves along her spine. She had dimples on her lower back for fuck’s sake. Round, pale and perfect, her fantastic ass practically defied gravity. Her braid swung, her feet spread apart, still on her toes as she bent forward to hold onto the thin edge of the free-standing old-fashioned tub.
“What do you see?” she asked, her voice husky and deep, sultry and confident. He looked at her, drank her in. Her bottom thrust back at him, the perfect, slender thighs, the shadowed, moist crevice unfolding like a fan between her legs. The long, lean pull of tendons down to the shallow depressions above the bend of her knees, calves gloriously smooth and curved, leading to her rounded, devastated heels, and then, the soles of her feet, roped with twisted and angry flesh, some pale, some flaming, testimony to a strange and secret past.
Her expression weakened, she started to lower her feet.
“Stay on your toes,” he ordered. He meant it to be an order, but it sounded more like a plea. He softened his voice, tried to use it to communicate and not break the spell they’d woven. “Up higher.”
She complied. Derrick remembered why they were doing this and raised his gaze to her butt. The mark was there, faint, rosy and … didn’t do a thing for him. He almost sighed in relief. He didn’t know who he was in this game they were playing, but Derrick understood that here, in the liking or not liking of his handprint, he recognized himself. He loved her for all that was strong about her, and that was what he would hold to, during the storm that was coming. There was no confusion in that. He loved her.
“Can you see it?” she asked. Her expression was sultry as if she couldn’t have cared one way or the other, languid and ready, leaning over, exposed to him.
“Yes, but it’s not what I’m interested in,” he stared explicitly at her pussy. “Turns out, what I like is chasing you in here and then having you cornered.”
She moaned. “Fuck. Derrick, can I get you a towel to kneel on?” She arched her back, wiggling her ass. “What can I do to get you on your knees here?”
He came behind her and ran his hands over her soft, soft, skin. Coasted them over the curve of her back. Tortured himself by rubbing his cock against her. The moment their skin touched, he felt the arousal in his dick, his balls, and his fucking mouth. He’d never felt that before, this pervasive simmering in every part of him. If she were to run a hand over his arm now, he thought he’d go off. He didn’t want to say anything for fear of breaking the moment. His lust glazed brain suggested he stop all this crazy and take her. Allison’s head was thrown forward, her braid over her shoulder, the muscles in her back graceful and long, moving with her. Just one thrust. Why wasn’t he doing it? His brain was cotton. He positioned himself.
She looked over her shoulder, licked her lips and then her eyes opened wide. She said the only thing she could have said to bring it all to a halt.
“Condom?”
Allison would have collapsed in laughter at the look on Derrick’s face if she wasn’t so turned on and horny herself. She’d looked over her shoulder to see this magnificent man, all his attention focused between her legs, his fabulous, monstrous dick in his hand. The beautiful split head, the notch there at the protruding tip, moisture glistening on it. Her wetness was all along the thick, reddened cock. So good. It was going to be so good. All that bare skin. Bare skin. Bareback.
Condom. Allison’s gaze had shot to his face. She said the word and his eyes had practically crossed. A giddy delight rose in her along with all that fabulous frustration. She’d never, ever, been this on edge for this long before. He jerked his dick to the side, too late to stop the thrust, but in time to redirect it. An expression of grim oh-shitness that was priceless. If only she’d been taking a selfie. That did it, she started to laugh.
“I found a better word than Beetlejuice,” she croaked and then she slid to the floor in a gale of laughter.
Derrick’s face was red and
wonderfully mashed up with humor, arousal, and sheer disappointment. Allison held her breath. She shouldn’t laugh. A splutter escaped her.
“Not funny,” he said, and it all just burst from her.
“No … ha,” she burbled. “No … not” She looked at him. “Oh my God,” she said, raising up on her knees, grabbing his hips, standing up and leaning against his hard, warm body. “Oh my God. The look on your face …” She touched his cheek, her heart was so full of love for this man, she wanted to pour it all into him by looking into his eyes. “Oh, your face!”
Her man tried to scowl at her, but the humor was creeping into his expression now. He resisted it, but it was coming. She raised her other hand, both palms to his face, thumbs rubbing at his lower lip, her chest felt tight and full, as if more and more was being pushed inside her ribs. She loved him. Flat out.
And, she had to pee.
“You have to get out now,” she said.
“What?”
“Out.” She whipped a towel off the rack and thrust it at him. “Cover up that mouthwatering, enormous package of yours.” She noted that her words were getting a bit of a rise since laughter was definitely not an aphrodisiac for this man. Good to know. No giggling if she wanted to get pounded. “I’m not going to pee in front of you.”
He turned his back.
“Nope,” she said. “Out.”
They took their turns and wearing matching towels, headed to the kitchen. Allison couldn’t take her eyes off of the man prowling around her apartment. Nothing escaped his notice, and for the first time, Allison understood that by not speaking often, Derrick had plenty of time to take in his surroundings.