Rough Love

by Landish, Lauren

  “It’s all right, baby. You can tell me that you were thinking about my cock. We already discussed that you need dicking. You know I’m the man for the job.” I’m flirting again, stepping through a minefield with no map and no clue where the IEDs are hidden. Last time didn’t go so well, so I should be extra cautious this time. Careful ain’t exactly my strong suit, though. I’m more a blow shit to smithereens and deal with the aftermath type.

  So I step closer, invading her space. My throat goes tight at the thought of getting between her pretty thighs again. We might have all kinds of issues, past and present, but sex wasn’t ever one of them. “Say the word, Al, and I’ll take you in that barn right there. You know there’s a spot up in the hayloft. We’ve been there before.”

  I pause, letting the memories wash through us both. Her laid out on a blanket on a backdrop of spun-gold hay. My jeans shoved down around my thighs and her shorts still hooked on one ankle because we were trying to hurry. Swallowing our moans of pleasure with kisses so we wouldn’t get caught by my brothers or parents.

  She bites her lip, desire written all over her face and her chest rising and falling rapidly. But I can see the doubt, the questions, the uncertainty. I don’t want to take her like that. I want her sure when I slip into her heaven again. I want her begging for my cock. I want her crying out my name as she comes apart all over me.

  And there’s so much I don’t know. She’s leaving tiny breadcrumbs of hints at what her life has been like, and I’m gathering each and every one of them up like a fucking pigeon, wanting to figure out who she’s become. I don’t want to mess that up by going too fast, because she’s a runner now and she’ll bail on me sure as the sun’s gonna rise tomorrow. It’ll have to be a dance of my take-no-prisoners style tempered to meet her skittish-colt tendencies. I try to marry the Valkyrie who just came in screaming and giving me hell with the woman who quietly walked away the other day, and I just can’t. It doesn’t make any sense.

  But I want it to.

  So I’m going to figure this woman out, and I’m doing it proper. All fuckin’ in.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” I say, grabbing her hand.

  “What?” she exclaims, but she doesn’t pull away from me.

  I take it as a win. Baby steps like Mama Louise advised, getting to know her again. I’m going to win her over, win her back. Because I should’ve never lost her in the first place.

  I’m getting this train back on track, right now.

  We walk past the barn, and Shayanne holds up her thumb, letting us know that Cooper’s good. He doesn’t even notice us, wiggling his nose against Bacon Seed’s snout and smiling happily. I mean, Cooper is, not the pig. Though Bacon Seed would probably smile if she could. She’s a bit of a spoiled diva, thanks to Shay.

  I lead Al further, past our personal garden and into the crops we grow to support the farm. Well, and the Bennett ranch now, since it’s all theirs. This feels both familiar and new, something we used to do all the time back in the day, but now it’s different.

  “So did you really have a ‘goat soap emergency’?” I can hear the air quotes in her question.

  I scratch at my lip, eyeing her from under my hat. “Is that what Shayanne said?” Allyson nods, still not believing it. I squeeze her hand in reassurance. “Well, yes and no. More like an emergency in the making . . .”

  I explain how Sophie had gotten word about an entire herd needing what amounts to goat foster care because their owner went into the hospital unexpectedly. So the herd arrived in the middle of the night and we’d spent the better part of the early morning hours making sure the new herd and our existing animals got along without butting heads. Literally. And today, we had to milk twice as many nanny goats so it was all hands on teat.

  It’d been back-breaking work, but it was the right thing to do . . . for the goats, for the poor owner, and even for Shayanne. The owner gladly told her she could keep the milk as bonus supply for her soaps. She’ll put it to good use with the upcoming busy holiday season.

  “An actual goat emergency,” Allyson says with a laugh. “I never would’ve believed that.”

  I laugh with her, and the last bits of today’s drama melt away, leaving just the two of us. Allyson smiles at me shyly. She breaks our eye lock first, looking down to our interwoven hands. I run my thumb along the soft skin of her hand.

  “Come on, let me show you everything.”

  We walk for what seems like hours. I show her the large fields, telling her about how we rotate the crops to keep the soil fresh, and the specialized fields, where we mostly grow things for Shay’s businesses and the farmer’s market. She listens to every word, raptly paying attention as if farming is an exciting topic.

  Eventually, we end up in the orchard toward the back of the property. There are still peaches on lots of the trees, and as we walk beneath the green canopy, Allyson looks up.

  “It’s beautiful, Bruce. All of it.”

  She means it. Not everyone gets it, the farm life. Some people prefer the city, the hustle and bustle, sidewalks and neighbors, and a grocery store on every block. It’s different out here. We’re just as busy, but it’s in a unique way, sunup to sundown and repeat with each new day.

  “I didn’t know if I could do this, you know?” I admit. “When we were kids, I wanted out. Not because I didn’t appreciate what my family had but because I was a stupid kid who thought I needed to conquer the world. But I was wrong. This is where I was always supposed to be. I love this land, even if it’s not ours anymore.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s got to be hard, not at all what you planned.” She sounds truly sad for my family at the loss.

  I shrug and grunt. “It was at first, but we’re doing a lot better now. Mama Louise isn’t the kind of woman to pussyfoot around. She basically told us all to get our shit straight right-quick and we said, ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Especially with Shayanne on her side. She’s married to Luke Bennett now.”

  Allyson’s mouth drops like she just put some puzzle pieces together. “You said at Hank’s that one of the Bennetts was fucking Shayanne. I wasn’t sure which one or what the situation was there, and it didn’t seem like the time to ask.”

  The reminder of the dinner at Hank’s and how we’d started out so badly but ended somewhere else. With that kiss. If Kyle Bloomdale hadn’t interrupted us, I don’t know how far we would’ve taken it.

  Would we have ended up in the parking lot? At her house?

  At the time, I’d been furious, but maybe it was for the best. It gave us time to battle out some shit. There’s still more to go. I know there’s a whole lot more to her story from the last few years, but we’re getting there little by little.

  “C’mere.” I pull her along with me, jogging slightly. I need to show her something before I lose my guts. I’m not a coward, but if this isn’t as important to her as it is to me, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  I pause when we get close. “Close your eyes,” I order her, slipping my hands over her eyes from behind.

  She tenses for the barest second and then laughs, reaching up to hold my wrists. “What are you doing?”

  “This,” I whisper hotly into her ear. I move my hands and her lashes flutter. I know the instant she sees it.

  She gasps, her hands covering her mouth, but then she reaches out. One finger traces the lines in the big tree trunk.

  B + A = 4EVR

  We’d playfully discussed for over an hour if it should be alphabetical or if my initial should be first, not because I was the boy but because it was technically my tree. She’d won, and my initial was the first one I carved. But she’d been there with me for every scratching mark with my pocketknife. When I was done, she’d kissed the tree and then kissed me.

  I remembered that kiss like it was yesterday, the taste of bark and cherry lipgloss.

  She spins in my arms so that she can look me in the eye. “Is this what I think it is? Is that original?”

  I nod, searching her face. It means somet
hing to her too. She licks her lips and my eyes track the movement hungrily.

  “Bruce.”

  I think she’s going to tell me to stop, tell me she can’t do this again. Instead, she lifts to her toes and kisses me.

  It takes me by surprise. I think it takes her by surprise too, actually. But in the span of a heartbeat, we go from standing beside one another to trying to occupy the same space. I need her, need to be inside her. If not her pretty pussy, at least her mouth. Holding her jaw gently in my big hands, I nip at her lower lip, and she opens for me without hesitation. I dive in, our teeth clacking in our rush to consume each other. I claim her mouth, tracing it with my tongue, wanting to know every nook and cranny of her again.

  She’s pressing into me, her whole body aligned with mine, but she’s so much smaller than me that I have to bend over and she’s still reaching for me on tiptoe. I slide my hands down her back, my thumbs brushing along the sides of her tits until I’m cupping her ass. I want to touch her everywhere at once, cover her body with mine. With the slightest squeeze, she hops up, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. Holy shit, that’s even better . . . her covering me, choosing me.

  “Oh, fuck, Al,” I murmur as she kisses down my neck. I’ve been working all day and probably smell more like an animal than a man, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Fuck, she even seems to like it as she lets out this cute growl of hunger against my skin.

  I hitch her up a bit higher, ordering her to hang on as I drop to one knee and then the other before flipping over. I lean back against our tree with her sitting astride me.

  She pulls back, her blue eyes flashing and bright. Her ponytail is floppy, falling to one side, and her cheeks are flushed with desire.

  “So fucking beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers, and I realize I said that part out loud.

  She’s thinking, I can feel the hamster spinning out in her mind, but I don’t rush her. My cock has other ideas about our timeline and throbs painfully, wanting through the few scarce layers separating us, but that’s not what this is. This is baby steps. This is getting her used to us again. This is making things right.

  “Whatever you want, Al. Anything, nothing. Say the word and it’s yours.” My voice is too rough, my breath too jagged, my body too needy, but I’ll stand by my word. Anything she wants from me, I’ll give it.

  She leans forward, delicately kissing up my jawline toward my ear, and I can’t help but squeeze the fullness of her ass where I’m still holding her. Her breath is hot against my ear as she whispers, “Touch me.”

  I groan, loving even the faintest hint of dirty talk from her. She was never shy, but I always had a much filthier mouth, and she loved that, got off on it. I pray that hasn’t changed because I want clarity here.

  “Touch you where, baby? You want me to suck and lick on your sweet tits?” A tiny whimper answers that. “You want me to rub your hot pussy, circle your clit, and fuck you with my fingers until you coat me in your cum?” She shudders, and that seems like a damn good place to start, so I don’t push her any further. This I can work with.

  I pull at her tank top, and she rips it over her head, revealing her sports bra. There must be a God that still loves a dirty bastard like me because the bra zips in the front. I yank the zipper down and am greeted with the most beautiful set of tits I’ve ever seen in my life. I thought maybe I’d imagined them through rose-colored glasses over the years, but I don’t think I remembered them as gorgeous as they actually are.

  I hold her ribcage in my hands, almost touching all the way around her thin frame, and she arches, presenting herself to me. I lick one long line up her sternum because I know it drives her crazy and then feast on her. Al’s nipples are bright red and puffy, stiff with desire against my tongue as I circle one and then the other. She holds my head to her, fingers fisting my hair. I have no idea where my hat went, nor do I give a shit when she’s letting me touch her like this.

  Her hips are moving, rubbing her heat up and down the hard ridge of my cock. If I don’t stop her, I’m going to come in my damn jeans. I wrap a strong arm around her waist, forcing her to arch more so that her tits are in my face and her ass is lifted in the air. My free hand rubs over the globe of her ass, and she responds, lifting up even more for me.

  Slipping my hand beneath the waistband of her running gear, I say another prayer of thanks to the person who invented lined shorts because Allyson Meyers isn’t wearing any underwear.

  “Jesus,” I hiss as I feel the softness of her skin and the tautness of the muscles of her ass. I dip lower and then lower still, finding her soaked and ready for me.

  “Yes,” she says on along exhale. “More.” I love her bossy tone telling me what she wants.

  “Right here?” I tease, but my fingers aren’t teasing. I’m going right for her honey pot, spreading her juices all over her lips and up to her clit. I want her messy and coated with her cream, both of us knowing that I’m the one who made her so wet.

  She cries out, and I swirl my finger over her clit in lazy circles, dipping into her pussy without rhyme or reason so she can’t anticipate it. She’s going wild in my arms, thrashing as she tries to fuck my hand. I meet her thrust for thrust, going faster and harder, pummeling her sweet pussy roughly, but she’s mewling for more with every stroke.

  “I’m gonna come, Bruce,” she warns.

  I want that orgasm, want her to fall apart for me once again. I want it so bad I can taste it in the air. “Do it, Al. Come for me, baby. Come all over my hand, let me feel that pussy clench on my fingers.” She’s already spasming, the orgasm overtaking her, but my words send her flying even higher. When she calls out my name, I feel ten feet tall and bulletproof.

  I fill her pussy with my fingers over and over, slowly as she comes down, letting her catch her breath. She collapses against me, her head cradled on my shoulder. Too soon, I pull my fingers from her and bring them up, staring at the glistening proof of her pleasure. It’s covering my hand, stretching between my spread fingers, and I suck them into my mouth one by one, savoring her cream as she watches. “Goddamn, you’re so sweet. I forgot how good you taste. I want to drink you down, make you messy, and then clean you up with my tongue.”

  She turns her face to my shoulder, but I don’t think she’s embarrassed. I think she’s pleased at the crude compliment.

  Her hand tiptoes down my chest toward my waist and she says, “What about you?”

  I put my hand over hers, stopping her from undoing the button of my jeans. “Not yet, Al. If you take my cock out, I’m going to fuck you right here in the dirt.”

  “You being all gentlemanly now? We had sex out here before.” She’s pouting a little and it’s cute as hell, almost enough to make me waver in my resolve.

  “I’ll fuck that pussy anywhere and anytime you’ll let me at you, but I don’t want to mess this up. You’re not a meaningless fuck, Allyson. You never were, and I won’t start treating you like one now. When I get back inside you, I want it to be because we’ve worked out all the old shit that never should’ve gotten in our way. When I fuck you, there won’t be any going back. You’ll be mine again, so you need to be prepared for that.” I know I’m asking a lot, and doing it pretty gruffly, and that’s before you get to the deep growl of my voice.

  But she’s mine. She’s always been mine, and I’m going to make her realize it too. Because I’ve always been hers.

  Her head is against my chest so I can’t read her face’s reaction to my declaration, not of war but of peace. Our peace, our piece of happiness. But I can feel her body’s delight as goosebumps pop up along her arms, even in the August heat of the late afternoon.

  Oh, yeah, this girl’s gonna be mine again. And now I’ve put her on notice that it’s happening. But I’ll give her a minute to adjust to the idea because I know she wasn’t looking for this, didn’t plan on my swooping back into her life and demanding a place in her heart.

  So I’ll wait. But not lon
g.

  Chapter 18

  Allyson

  There’s a loud rumble of an engine coming closer, but the noise that draws my attention is the purring in Bruce’s chest beneath my palm. “Should we . . . I don’t know, get up? Sounds like someone’s coming.” I know it’s one hundred percent what I should be doing, jumping up and righting my clothes, but I’m so floaty and dreamy in this post-orgasmic haze. At least my bra’s zipped and my tank is back on, I think distantly.

  Good Lord, it’s been years since I’ve come like that, and I’m not exactly bad at using my favorite vibrator. But even with its ungodly amount of horsepower, it’s got nothing on Bruce’s fingers . . . or his tongue . . . or his cock, if I remember correctly. I wonder what new tricks he has up his sleeve these days and realize I am in so much trouble.

  He’s talking about making me ‘his’ again, and I heard that proud caveman grunt when he said ‘mine.’ That alone should send me running for the hills as fast as my legs can carry me. So why am I still sitting here?

  He’s bossy, that I know. But it’s in an oddly respectful way that doesn’t set off every alarm bell I have in my body. He sets off some sirens, but it’s mostly the good ones, the really good ones.

  “We’ve got about thirty more seconds until they’re close enough to see us, and I’m using every one of them in case you go skittish on me again. I want as much of you as I can get.” He grinds his still-rigid cock against my core, and I moan, forgetting to argue that I’m not skittish. Nervous maybe, wary definitely, but I’m not some jumpy, on-edge runner.

  Or am I?

  Deciding to do some self-analyzation on that at a time where I don’t have Bruce underneath me, I smirk at him. Challenge accepted. “Count it down, then.”