Rough Edge

by Landish, Lauren

  Mom leans in to Emily, a tiny smile on her lips as she stage whispers, “He calls her Erica, did you hear that?”

  Emily hums as she concurs. “Yep, and he’s still alive and standing. This could be serious.”

  Mom suddenly yawns, exaggeratedly fake. “Oh, dear, I’m feeling so tired. I’d best be getting home. Emily, dear, do you think you can drive me?”

  “Yeah, Mom. No problem,” Emily answers as Mom basically drags her away.

  “Nice to meet you, Brody!” Mom calls out as they disappear, probably already discussing the whole Rix-met-someone situation.

  I turn to Shayanne. “Sorry for messing up your sale with my Mom, but I’ll take two of each of the jellies and order a cake too. I love carrot cake. It’s my favorite way to eat vegetables, but I promise to share. Or you know, shove it in Mom’s mouth so she’ll stop asking me questions about the last five minutes of my life.”

  She somehow glows even brighter. “Wait until you have Mama Louise’s zucchini bread with chocolate chips and you’ll be singing a different tune. You should come out to the ranch sometime because it’s best when it’s fresh outta the oven.”

  Brody stiffens beside me, and not in the good way. He stays quiet and stoic while Shayanne rings up my purchases and puts them in a bag with her business card. “Call or text me anytime . . . about anything.” She pauses and adds, “Oh, and for real, let me know if there’s a specific date you want the cake. Or if my soonest availability works for you, that’ll be about four days from now.”

  Brody grabs my hand, asking Shayanne, “Think you can handle teardown on your own?”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, asshole. I can fold a folding table and shove it in the back of the truck. I’m almost sold out of everything, anyway.”

  And before I can tell her goodbye, Brody is dragging me away.

  I let him for a few steps, understanding the need to escape family sometimes even though you love them, but quickly, my strides become no match for his and I have to pull at his hand. “Slow down, Cowboy.”

  He spins in place, pulling me against him. I have to look up and he has to look down, but somehow, he doesn’t make me feel less-than or weak.

  “Lil Bit, that whole thing was weird as fuck, but the main thing I picked up on is that Emily seemed fine with this. True?” His jaw is clenched, tension woven through his muscles as he waits for me to agree.

  “True.”

  “You didn’t call. You still good with this?”

  “I thought about you last night. Got a few ideas. Maybe more than a few . . . if you’re game?”

  Heat flickers across his face as his eyes dart to my lips like he wants to taste those words. I think he’s going to do it, kiss me right here to learn all my dirty thoughts, but he growls and starts his speed-walking again.

  Now, I can see it for what it really is. He’s not escaping his family. He’s desperately trying to get us alone to pick up where we left off.

  And I am one hundred percent onboard for that plan. “My truck’s parked over there.”

  Chapter 9

  Brody

  “No one’s here?” I couldn’t care less if there’s a garage full of people at Cole Automotive as we pull up. I’ll fuck Erica right here in her truck, against any vehicle in one of those bays, and do it with a whole audience of customers if that’s who’s inside there.

  I’m that desperate for her.

  I’m not a manwhore, not with all the time, energy, and focus I’ve put into keeping my family afloat. So I’m used to going a long while between hookups.

  But she has me boiling inside, hungry in a way I don’t know I’ve ever felt. I have this bone-deep need to know how she feels under my hands, what sounds she makes, what her face looks like when she’s lost to pleasure. And I want her fingertips on my skin, branding me as hers, if only for a moment.

  It’s been almost thirty-six hours since I last kissed her. Too long by a mile. But it’s like we just blinked because all that fire we stoked up has reignited into an inferno, threatening to take us both under. I want to be consumed by her, turned to ash by her, and burn her up too. Fucking someone has never seemed as life or death as it does right now. Stupidly dramatic, but also absolutely true.

  “Shop closed at three so everyone’s gone home. I live upstairs.” She throws the truck in park and is out before I have a chance to bolt around and open her door. But I don’t think she cares about the lack of gentlemanly politeness because she’s dragging me by my T-shirt toward the garage door.

  She makes quick work of the up and down, throwing the latch again so we’re secure. And she’s mine. Judging by the greedy look in her eyes, I’m hers too.

  “Come on,” she says as she guides me toward a door across the room, on the other side of the garage.

  I can’t wait. Alone with her is more than enough for me. I push her against the door, gripping her jaw to lift it as I bend forward to meet her. There’s no battle for dominance. It’s an acceptance that we’re both in charge as we consume each other. Her tongue forces its way into my mouth, and I groan at the invasion, loving how aggressive she is, that she demands that I give as much as she is.

  We kiss our way through the door into a breakroom, our hands roving and learning. As we take a split second to gasp for air, I consider the table in the middle of the room. Laminated fake-wood top on metal legs like they used to have at school—definitely sturdy enough for her to lie on, but I’ll break it for sure. I’m happy to stand and fuck her laid back on that table, though.

  “No. I’m not having sex where my guys eat their lunch.”

  Shit. When she says it like that, I don’t want her pussy anywhere near there, either. She points at another door and I let her lead me that way. A set of stairs is revealed, and she takes them two at a time, even with her short legs. With me a few steps behind her, I have a great view, and I grab her hips, stopping her.

  She looks back, a smirk on her pink lips when she sees where my attention is centered. The seductive minx bends forward, her hands going to a step as she presses that tiny ass out toward me.

  I spin my hat backward so it’s out of the way and lay a kiss to a thigh toned by hard work, thanking the devil himself for these cutoff shorts because only he would be this perverted. I press a matching kiss to the other thigh, tracing the skin from her ankles to her ass with my callused hands. I roughly knead the flesh of her hips and ass in my hands over the denim, now cursing its existence because it’s keeping me from the rest of her. Luckily, they’re short, especially when she’s bent nearly in half. My fingertip teases along the soft skin at the ripped edge, dipping underneath when she dances and sways her hips.

  “More. Finger me.” There’s a breathiness to her voice I’ve never heard before. Not even when we kissed after the battery exchange. This is a new Erica. Needy, desire-filled, sex goddess Erica.

  I love that she’s bold and tells me plainly what she wants. No gimmicks, no games, no guessing.

  That doesn’t mean I do as she says. I’m not one of the people she bosses around, and she needs to know that. I keep tracing along that hem, getting further and further under the denim until I find her panties. Then I run my fingertips along that edge too, and she arches, fucking air as she searches for the ‘more’ she wants.

  Her fingers work the button at her waist and she shoves her shorts down. When my hands get in the way, I move and the denim falls to meet her Converse sneakers, revealing grey cotton bikinis. Plain and sensible, and sexy as fuck on her.

  But when she steps her feet as wide as the shorts around her ankles allow, I can see the wet spot on those panties and my cock goes iron-hard as all my blood rushes south. She’s wet for me, and fuck, do I want to deserve it. My thumbs graze along the soft skin peeking out at her core as I bury my nose there, inhaling her. I groan against her, and even that slight vibration has her begging for more.

  Not.

  Any other woman would. But not Erica Cole.

  No, she balances herself
on one hand and slips the other into her panties, petting herself if I won’t do it. “Fuck, that’s sexy. But let me.” I slide her panties to the side, watching for a moment longer before slowly licking a long line from her fingers over her clit all the way up to the rosebud of her ass. She bucks, her hips as demanding as her mouth.

  This time, I give in, not teasing either of us anymore.

  I slip my arm around her thighs, locking her against my mouth, and get to work. My tongue tastes every nook and cranny, mapping and memorizing her, learning what she likes and what makes her go wild.

  Her moans get higher pitched as she gets closer to coming. I can’t wait, want to see her explode, want to taste it on my tongue as she clenches on me. I ease a finger in, finally finger fucking her like she told me to, and she sighs like it’s the best thing she’s ever felt. My cock throbs, dangerously close to the point of no return.

  I will not come in my damn jeans just from the taste of her. I won’t. The pep talk isn’t helping, so I release her legs to palm myself, figuring if I’m coming like this, I’m going to make it good for me too.

  She looks back at me through the window between her elbow and knee. “Let me see you. Jack yourself while you finger fuck me.”

  My eyes cross as I rasp. “Shit, I’m gonna come just from your talking like that.”

  “Got a hairpin trigger, Cowboy?”

  Her tease is a challenge, one I’m up for. I leave her pussy empty, taking my wet finger to my mouth as she watches with a smirk. “You’re fucking delicious, Lil Bit. Pretty pink pussy all wet for me.” She nods, watching as my now-clean hand drops to my jeans. I make quick work of the button and shove my jeans and underwear down in the front, freeing my cock and balls. A few slow pumps have her eyes dilating.

  “I want that.” It’s the best reaction my cock’s ever received. I’ve gotten the porn-star-mimicked ‘oh, my, so big’ before, and even a few fearful looks of concern over my size. In three words, the blatant, hungry, honest desire for my thick length from Erica Cole has wiped any other woman’s compliment from my mind. “Can you go more than once?”

  “I’m thirty, not dead. And have you seen this pussy?” Her eyebrow says I didn’t answer the question. “Yeah, Erica. I can go more than once,” I answer dryly, unlike her dripping slit and my precum-covered crown.

  She sways her hips in reminder of her order. Normally, I’m not one to follow those, but her plan is even better than mine, so I slip one finger back into her wet warmth and the other hand around my cock. “Good fucking thing I’m ambidextrous.”

  “I’m sure you could make it work even if you weren’t.” The barb fades at the end, becoming a hiss as I add another finger. “Yes.”

  Her eyes stay locked on my fist, moving up and down my length in tempo with my fingers moving in and out of her slick cunt. In and out, up and down, over and over. And when I brush my thumb over her clit, she comes, crying out my name and making me feel like a fucking god. I slam my fingers into her roughly, curling them against that rough patch along her front wall, milking every bit of pleasure from her I can.

  She is fucking glorious, just like I knew she would be. She doesn’t do anything halfway, including orgasming. She’s wild and loud, barking at me not to stop, and when she tells me to come with her, I couldn’t stop it if I tried. Lightning jolts through my spine, going from my balls through my cock, and I spurt all over my hand.

  My teeth grit, neck muscles tight as I force her name out. This orgasm is hers. She did this to me even though it’s my hand on my cock.

  Panting as we recover, I lick lazily over her clit and taste her sweetness on my fingers which are still buried in her and all over her soft outer lips. She makes happy noises that feel like high praise. “Mmm. Let’s go upstairs.”

  She wiggles her ass, which I think is an attempt to dislodge me, so I tease her again. When I don’t withdraw, she stands up and moves two steps away.

  I whine at the loss and then grin when she runs up the rest of the steps with a deep chuckle that makes me think of smoke and whiskey. She stepped out of her shorts, her T-shirt has dropped down over her panties, which are askew and show me one tantalizing ass cheek, and she’s still got her Converse on. In a weird way, it’s sexier than lingerie on her.

  I follow her, slipping my cock back into my underwear and wiping my hand on my jeans before grabbing her shorts.

  My first impression of her apartment is that it’s sparse. One big room with a couch and TV area, a small dining table for two in front of a wall of kitchen appliances and cabinets, and a bed pushed up against the side wall. But there are touches here and there that speak to it being her space . . . a photo of a uniformed Erica, a fluffy blanket on the arm of the couch, and a stack of car magazines on the floor like she flips through them regularly.

  A habit of ranch life, I toe my boots off by the door, yanking at my socks too. Erica follows suit, setting her tennis shoes neatly by a rack of clothes. Her shirt goes over her head and into a hamper, along with her panties, as I raptly watch her zero-fucks-given, all-efficiency strip show.

  Her body is gorgeous, tight muscles and tiny curves. I want to suck the caramel tips of her nipples, trace a line from her belly button to her clit with my tongue, and kiss every freckle that dots her skin. The most beautiful part is her utter comfort in her own body as she stands unabashedly before me.

  “Your turn, Cowboy.” Her voice has gone husky, sending a buzz through my blood. She might’ve been casual about taking her clothes off, but as she lies back on the bed, propped on her elbows to watch, she’s begging me to give her a little more.

  I throw her shorts in the same hamper and then reach behind my head to pull my shirt off. My hat gets tangled up inside it, but for once, I don’t care as I let them both drop to the floor. Erica’s legs scissor when I reach for the zipper of my jeans, not having bothered with the button. I shed the rest quickly, standing nude and hard again. I give my cock a couple of strokes, making sure he’s putting in his best showing for what might be one of the best nights of his life.

  Erica bites her lip and smirks. “Goddamn, I am going to fuck the shit outta you.”

  I can’t help but groan at her words—not telling me to fuck her but bluntly telling me that she’s going to do the fucking. I don’t know why that’s so sexy, but it is. Like she’s in this as much as I am, as affected as I am, and not shy about expressing it. Her boldness is enticing as hell.

  In three strides, I’m at the bed’s edge. She’s sat up, watching my approach, and when she opens her mouth, her desire obvious, I’m leveled. “You want a taste?”

  She kisses my crown sweetly and then lays little laps all along my length, teasing and torturing me deliciously. I don’t expect it when she takes me all at once, letting me in her mouth and to the edge of her throat. I spasm, pushing deeper before I can wrestle back control of myself. “Fuck, Erica.”

  “Say it again.”

  “Erica.” I grab a handful of her hair, stopping her mouth from taking me, and she looks up at me. “Erica.”

  Her shudder is my undoing. I pick her up beneath her arms, throwing her toward the soft pillows and mussing up her perfectly made bed as I follow her. She opens her arms and knees, welcoming me. “Condom. In the nightstand.”

  She points to the small table, and I pull the drawer open to grab a foil packet. We both watch as I roll it over my cock and notch at her entrance. “You sure?” One more time, I have to ask, need her to tell me.

  “Hell yeah, Cowboy.” Her smile is bright until her mouth falls open as I inch inside her. “Yes.”

  She wraps around me with everything she has—short nails scoring my back, heels digging into my thighs, and tight as a vice pussy slickly clenching my cock in waves. We move, slowly at first but rapidly gaining speed.

  Her moans are buried against the skin of my chest, and I swear I feel the sharp edge of her teeth. We’re wild, our hips banging into one another and the headboard banging into the wall in a staccato rhythm, chasing
this thing building between us.

  Sex. Orgasms. Maybe more?

  Right now, all I know is pleasure.

  I lift up to my knees, fighting the tight grip she has keeping us locked together. It changes the angle and lets me see my cock disappearing inside her, coming back out covered in her honey.

  “Fucking beautiful.”

  So is the flush on her cheeks and the flutter of her lashes as her eyes roll back in her head. Maybe I say that aloud because she nods, agreeing with me or asking for more?

  I strum at her clit with one hand and pluck a nipple with the other. “Get there, Lil Bit. Come for me.” A few more sharp thrusts later, which she matches stroke for stroke, she detonates, bucking her hips fast and hard as she destroys me with her orgasm.

  “Fuck . . . Erica . . .” I bite out as I follow her over, jerking violently as I come.

  I hold myself deep inside her, not wanting to lose this connection yet. A soft and hazy-eyed Erica is a sight to behold, and I take a mental snapshot of the moment, knowing I’ll replay it just as much as the amazing sex we just had.

  Too soon, she moves, and I get up to take care of the condom.

  I don’t know why, but I mostly expect her to kick me out when I return from the bathroom. Like she got what she needed from me and now, I’m free to go. But she smiles and pulls back the covers, patting the bed beside her in invitation. “Do you need to go?”

  I climb into bed, finding my space next to her. “Nope, there’s nowhere I need to be.”

  That’s not true at all.

  Shayanne will have told the whole family about Erica and me leaving the market together, and my phone is probably blowing up in my jeans pocket. I don’t give a shit and don’t have any interest in answering their intrusive questions.

  And chores will need to be done dark and early in the morning. But if I’m not there, the guys can handle it. I’ve done the same for them. Though they’ll have just as many questions as the women. Gossipy old assholes, with their knowing looks and smirks.