Tough Going (Tough Love Book 2)

by Trixie More

  Her kitchen had two doorways, making it possible for a person to circle out and back into the room. Derrick wandered out of sight, and she was finally able to get her mind working well enough to put the filter into the pot and actually start the coffee. He padded back into the room, coming up behind her, hands on her waist, causing her towel to slip a little. He leaned his cheek against hers, pulling her back into his chest, her ass against his thighs.

  She turned her face a fraction, trying to catch his eye. “I’m sorry I laughed.” She bit her cheek.

  “You are such a fucking liar.”

  The laughter burst from her again. “I know.”

  He reached around her and took down two coffee mugs, already aware of where they were kept. His arms rested on either side of her, palms on the narrow edge of the counter as they waited for the pot to fill. The skin was smooth where his broad thumb met the back of his hand, his fingers were long and clean, the nails short.

  “I …”

  He waited. Allison caught her breath. What in the world had she been about to do? Say she loved him because his hands were beautiful against her chipped laminate counter? His nose moved against her cheek, his mouth at her neck, his hand pushed her braid aside. Wet, strong, he dragged a long swipe of his tongue up her neck, to her ear. She shivered. He bumped her a bit. A strong bubble of melancholy moved through her. She should be aroused, she should be happy, she was in love. Allison didn’t want this brewing sadness. She was going to tell him she loved him, because she always went against herself in that way, saying things a person shouldn’t. And then, they would have sex. This was non-negotiable at this point, only she would be making love, and he would be making time. He might care for her now, but, like her mother, like her other lovers, he’d be gone soon. If not on his own, then because his grandfather would be coming for her business. How could they be together through that?

  “Where did you go?” Derrick bumped her again. She felt him trying to get a glimpse of her face, so she reached behind her and took the elastic off of the end of her braid, fanning her hair out.

  “That,” he said, “is not a good sign.”

  Allison smiled faintly and poured their coffee, and the part of her that watched, cursed her for allowing the magic they’d been weaving to evaporate, taking the buzzing arousal and the warm glow of love with it. She added cream to hers and left his black. Turned in the circle of his arms and handed him his mug. It might as well have been his hat.

  “You’re kidding,” was all he said.

  Chapter 20

  Derrick couldn’t believe it. She’d left. Allison was in the kitchen with him, but the Allison he was in love with was locked away again. In her place was someone new. It wasn’t bossy pants, there was no energy here, no commanding list of to-dos. And it wasn’t the vulnerable one, who looked at him with such open youth, and it wasn’t even catering vixen, whom he especially liked and had hoped to spend the morning with; this was a new facet, and she made him thoroughly uncomfortable. This was a very grown up, very calm and very blue woman.

  Blue Allison took her coffee to the table and sat, tucking her towel up higher on her chest, disappointing move that it was. Despite his brain realizing that she’d changed again, his nether parts hadn’t yet got the news. His rod still thought good things would come to those who wait. He sent his crotch the message, took his mug and leaned his hip against the counter. She thought she was unhappy? She had news coming.

  “What’s going on?”

  Blue Allison shrugged and sipped her coffee. “Nothing.”

  He rolled his eyes. Unbelievable. Words dried up inside him. What had gone wrong? He watched her as she blew on her coffee, her pursed lips looking older than they should have. He wanted to tell her to stop doing that, but he held his tongue. Holding back? He was the king of that. He thought back to what they’d been doing. What had changed? He couldn’t think of a damn thing. They’d been playing, aroused, making coffee together.

  Christ! She was a lot of work. He thumped his mug on the counter, and she startled. That just made him madder.

  “What!” It came out of him as more of a shout than a question. He was as amazed as she was at the outburst. He was someone else when he was around her. The man he understood himself to be, didn’t break his silence like that. He didn’t demand explanations, grovel for affection. That was not him. The memory came, of standing in the hallway, pale beige paint on the wall, white molding and high ceilings, expensive rugs, looking into his grandfather’s furious eyes, the doorway to his father’s library open just a bit. He felt the weight of Rose and Angelo’s bags in his hands. He didn’t grovel for affection. He did not. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to just take it and take it anymore either. Not from Ben, not from his father and not from Allison. His chest heaved.

  Allison was staring at him, her eyes wide and surprised. Just like that, she had changed again. He couldn’t keep up with her. She rose from her chair, setting her coffee cup down gently, walked across the kitchen to him carefully like he was a wild thing, a beast. Well, he felt like a beast. He tipped his head back and held it at an angle out of her reach. Her gaze lowered and caught on the bruises on his chest.

  Oh no. Derrick wasn’t going to take pity from this woman either. She was a motherfucking truckload of work, but he was sure as fuck equal to the task, to any task. Pity was not going to be part of this.

  He grabbed her with both fists. His hands, curved around the tops of her shoulders, looked alien to him. He squeezed and pressed her away from him.

  “In or out?”

  She looked at him, a question there.

  “Decide.”

  Her tongue crept out, moistened her plump lower lip.

  He gave her a shake, and her pupils dilated, her long lashes dropping and rising to the challenge. Her answer was firm.

  “All. In.”

  Thank God! He bent and dropped his shoulder, notching it into her waist, and picked her up, her full ass up by his chin, her legs dangling, his arm wrapped around them. Behind him, he felt her palms press into his lower back, the middle of his spine. She was twisting; he was entering the hallway. She had her mouth on his scapula; he was opening the bedroom door. She bit him.

  “Ow!” he said. Where the fuck did that come from? He swatted her bottom, and he could feel her reaching down toward his ass. There was no way he was going to wait around and find out what mischief she could get up to from her current angle. Her nails scratched him as she yanked off his towel. He let go of her legs, reaching up to her waist and he could feel her start to slide.

  “Oy!” Allison cried. “Don’t …”

  He half lifted, half pushed her onto the billowing pile of tousled white linen, and she partially disappeared, sinking into her magic bed. He had the distinct pleasure of knowing he’d shut her up, and then he yanked the towel off her and stood there, for once feeling his size in comparison to her. The look on her face went a long way toward making up for what had transpired in the kitchen.

  From the hallway, he heard a door open, and he slammed their door without thinking twice. Shutting his eyes, he marveled at how they could not catch a break here.

  “Allie?” A slightly hoarse and feminine voice called. A gentle knock on the door sent an alarm through him. This was not happening. No one was coming in here. He used his foot to block the door and shot Allison a look.

  “Hi, Dot, I’m fine.” His woman looked like she was biting her cheek. He narrowed his eyes at her. He was not playing around anymore. “I’m just …” She snorted. “I’m just … ha!” The smile that split her face was stunning and a terrible sign if he wanted to keep his hard-on. “I’m having bossy sex, and I love it!” She crowed, his anxious dick nodded in approval. Allison burst into a mass of giggles.

  “Sex?” The woman in the hall sounded confused.

  “Allison is busy,” he said. This was over.

  “Oh … OK.” He thought he heard her say “bejesus fell” before the door clicked shut.


  He looked back at Allison, and his breath left him.

  Affection, so evident on her beautiful face, in her tipped, hazel eyes, rose from her in waves. Every one of his senses was on overdrive now, he felt the carpet between his toes, he felt the edge of a sheet that was brushing his calf. His skin was electrified, and energy coiled inside him. Beauty radiated from her. Humor like he’d never seen on a lovers’ face, wrapped in emotion so strong, he refused to name it, changed her. Here she was, finally, all of her together at one time, fierce and fuckable. He knew with certainty, she was manifested in this way, only for him, because of him.

  “Condom.” His voice was low, the word almost too thick to speak.

  Her mouth curved seductively, her expression deepening. She turned to her side, rose to her hands and knees, letting her back sway low, her ass in the air. A long arm stretched out.

  Fuck that. Allison was reaching for the drawer. Derrick was at it in one step, yanking it open, the box slamming to the front and practically bouncing out. Lord knew where he’d dropped the other one. He ripped the top off, not waiting to fiddle with the fucking little tabs, damn it.

  “Check the date,” she said.

  It was too late for that. “It’s the same damn box,” Derrick said, and Allison laughed. The offending thing was open and on him. He turned back to the bed. “You better be wet.”

  She swiveled her hips; he wanted to pound her. Lying back, she spread her legs and trailed her fingers between her legs.

  “You had to check?”

  “I think,” she said, “you might want me on my knees. Do you?”

  His mouth went dry. Allison was giving him a choice. “I just want in.”

  “I want you to tell me what to do. I want you to order me. I want to be perfect, everything you’ve dreamed of.” She sat up, looking him in the eyes. “Tell me.”

  Fuck. Me. Derrick’s mind was blank, he couldn’t think of a thing to say. She started to roll over, but he wanted to see her eyes. He wanted that look.

  “On your back.” He yanked a pillow from behind her and pushed it beneath her hips. “Hold that.” He grabbed her ankle, marched around to the end of the bed, dragging her until she was centered, perfect. He stood at the end and looked at her. “Palms on the headboard.” She raised her arms, pressing against the rough weave, her biceps getting round and firm, her tits pulled higher. “Knees up.” She complied. “Spread.” Her feet shifted apart, the angry red of the sides, bright against the white. He knelt on the bed and shoved them farther apart, moving into the V of her. He slid his hand down her calf, cupping her foot, and brought it gently to his waist, resting her heel there. It was the last gentle thing he would do.

  Allison watched as Derrick put her ruined foot on his hip, her heel resting on the rope of muscle around his pelvis. He slid his palm down the inside of her thigh, leaned forward and tugged her, hard, by the waist. Combined with the expression on his face, her imminent impalement gave her a little twist of fear. She’d made him wait too long, and this was going to get rough. Well, she was up for it. He might have the tool, but she had the vise.

  A feeling of power moved through her, she felt a feline smile slowly uncurl. Lifting her arms to Derrick, she slid her hands into the man’s short, dark hair and dragged him toward her.

  “Do it,” she whispered. “I dare you.”

  His moves were quick and electrifying. He grabbed Allison’s waist and pressed forward, his cock at her entrance. She used the foot still on the sheets to lever herself up. He yanked that foot up and tossed it behind him, trying to take her out of the equation. He had no idea, she thought. She dug her wrecked heels into his spine, her nails raking his shoulder, his back. She curled up and sucked on his neck as Derrick slammed into her. The divine feeling of him, inside her, took her breath away. Everything was his now. He was hers.

  “Press on the headboard.”

  She complied, flattening her palms. This man, come to shatter her, was looking down into her eyes now, his arms straight, muscles bulging. He started to withdraw, and she clenched as hard as she could, her mouth compressing with the effort.

  “Christ!” he said.

  They were staring into each other’s eyes, and she was sure her expression matched his in ferocity. She clenched again.

  “Uhhhh …”

  He dragged himself out of her. She pressed into his ass with her legs, pulling him back.

  “Fuck, Allison.” He tried to slam forward, and she tried to relax to let him in, he made it halfway and pulled back again. Eyeing her warily, he pressed forward slower, she relaxed more, and he slid in slowly until he was seated. A fat bead of sweat dropped onto her shoulder. He took one hand and brushed her bangs from her face, leaned down and kissed her gently on the corner of her mouth. He lowered his hips, put his forearm flat beside her, staring into her eyes. Open, she felt, open. It was her turn to watch him cautiously.

  He kissed her cheek, her nose, her mouth again, lapping at her lips, suckling her tongue, sliding his mouth over her neck. The feeling of it shot straight to her pussy, and she tightened around him, even as she opened farther, so he could settle right there.

  “Ah!” It was her turn to call out.

  He brushed her cheek with his thumb, his fingers curled behind her scalp, dark, dark eyes open and watching her.

  “Ah, Derrick …”

  He kissed her softly and then harder, his hips starting to thrust in rhythm now, his groin pressing onto her perfectly, rubbing with each thrust, the pillow setting that angle up magnificently. She could predict the motion now, could clench as he withdrew, relax as he came into her, watching the micro-expressions on his face. He started to speed up, she put her palms back on the headboard, and he rewarded her by slamming harder. Her orgasm began to build itself, centering in that bundle of nerves, the anxious beginnings trying to take hold. The thinking needed to stop. She shut her eyes.

  Sharp pain in her thigh. She snapped her eyes open. He’d pinched her.

  “That’s it. Look at me,” Derrick said. And it started. The gravel voice, the words, drawing Allison out of her own thoughts, the tightness gathered between her legs. “You’re perfect. For me, you’re perfect.” He slammed into her again and again. “So fierce, my Allison.” She gripped him, tightening her pelvic floor. “Everything about you.” He was pounding her now, over and over and over.

  “Ah.” She tossed her head.

  His groin hitting her just right, his loving picking up the pace, thrusting his hips harder and harder. “Come. On. Allison. Let go.” She shook her head. She couldn’t. It was there but not.

  “I can’t,” she cried.

  “We’re doing this together,” he grunted.

  “Derrick …” She felt near tears. She wanted to come, wanted to give them that.

  She tightened herself hard and let her inner muscles pulse against him, lifting her hips, trying to rub herself against him.

  “Oh fuck, that feels good,” he groaned. He withdrew halfway, put his hand between them and set his thumb on her.

  She jerked like she was trying to fling him off. He pressed harder, and she cried out. He seated himself fully and began moving again.

  “Stop squeezing me.” His words were broken, sporadic like he could hardly get them out. “Allison, Allison, love, my love, stop working at it. You’re always working.” His words burned her. She was. She was always. The fact that he knew that broke her. Buzzing feelings at her core built upon each other. She shoved a hand between them, feeling the soft slap of his balls as he thrust, she moved her hand with his. Together they circled her, the mingling of their fingers, so unpredictable, sent her over, the climax quick and fierce and unexpected. She stiffened her legs around his waist, driving her pelvis up.

  “Fuck!” He thrust against her, shoving her up the bed, and held there, small spasms rocking him as she felt her own abandon rip the world away.

  Never. The fuck. Again.

  Derrick collapsed onto Allison, not caring if she disappeared into
the ten feet of bedding beneath him.

  Every muscle felt like a wrung out cloth, wet, limp, empty. Derrick felt those ruined feet slide off his ass, her legs flopping on the bed. An image of the wicked witch with the house sitting on her, striped legs akimbo, came to him and made him smile. He’d fallen on her like a ton of bricks. He needed to move, but like that fallen building, he felt inert. His arms relaxed another notch and splayed farther. Holding onto the moment was paramount because he didn’t think he’d ever have that kind of stamina again.

  “Oh.” The voice was muffled beneath him. Derrick thought about lifting up, but nothing complied.

  “What.” He felt a little puff of breath on his chest as she muttered the word.

  He could do this. He moved his hand, put his palm on the bed.

  “Was that?” He smiled against the sheet and pushed a bit, shoving his chest to the side, freeing her at last. He flopped his hand against her skull, pulling her head into him. His smile built. He was still inside her.

  “Don’t move,” she muttered and wriggled. It felt great. Derrick was quite happy to stay right where he was. In fact, it occurred to him that he was happy. Full stop.

  His heart was hammering still, and he drew a deep breath, letting it out again. Allison answered with her own sigh.

  Her hands caressed his hips, slid over his ass, stroking him.

  “Wrecking ball.”

  He felt his eyebrows rise. That was the only part of him that could move.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Your new name.”

  “Rrr …” He let it go. It was too much work. He closed his eyes and just felt, as Allison slowly stroked his arm, his back, whatever.

  It was a full ten minutes before he regretfully withdrew, tied off and dropped the condom unceremoniously on the nightstand. Bossy eyed it for a minute and flopped back on the pillows and pulled the blanket over them both. It was Saturday, it was early, and there was no hurry.