by Trixie More
“You like listening to me?” he asked. His eyes opened, looking into hers, so close to his.
Her answer was low and husky. “I could do it all day,” she answered simply, and he was lost. He kissed her, feeling her mouth answering him strong and certain, the way she did everything. The way he wanted to do everything. They were matched in this, in doing. She tasted of ale, and he thought of the food she’d brought. His stomach ruined the moment by giving a large growl. He felt her smile against his mouth. Breaking the connection with several small presses of her lips to his, she pulled back, and he let her go. Behind him, she said, “Now, tip your head back.”
Experiencing the hot water, her strong fingers rubbing his scalp, the lather was heaven. He rested with nothing to do. Then she tossed him a bar of soap, told him to use his left hand as best he could and after she finished his hair, Allison reclaimed the soap and finished his right side for him. She avoided his cock as if it didn’t exist and finally, as the warmth, the food, and probably the three strong ibuprofen tablets did their work, he felt the first stirring there. He found himself willing her to brush against it, wondering if she might stroke him there, pet him like she’d been petting every other place on his body. Through barely open eyes, he could see his rod lifting. She tipped her head, looking at him sideways and smiled.
“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”
He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he used his left hand and stroked himself.
She looked at him, the smile fading, an expression all too perceptive taking its place. “Say it,” she whispered.
“Touch me,” he answered, and his voice sounded strange to his own ears, thick and harsh. He was about to try again, in a more civilized tone but apparently, his voice had been just right for Allie because she plunged her arm into the water, soaking the edge of her T-shirt sleeve, fingers stroking the underside of his cock, discovering every inch of him. She leaned farther over and got her other hand in there, letting it take over. He felt his stomach contract as one hand reached for his balls. There was no knowing what a woman was going to do when she took it in her head to grab a man there. In his experience, even with good intentions, the result could be unremarkable, sometimes outright painful, occasionally sublime. A guy never knew. He relaxed a bit when the touch she used was gentle, cupping and rolling his balls delicately and slowly, and all the while, her gaze never left his face.
“Look at it,” he said, and a surge of blood flooded his erection, making it rise up farther, giving away the arousal he felt at his own words.
Her attention was already there, he watched her look at him, studying every nuance of her expression, and then, he gasped in shock as she bent over the tub, drew in a breath, no, absolutely … yes, holy fuck. She brought the tip of his rod into her mouth, and it felt like nothing he’d ever imagined. Everything was warm, and it was hard to tell the water from her mouth. Up and down, and then she licked him. He almost shot right then. She sat back and worked him with her hand until he lifted his hips and spent weakly. It was over far too soon. She leaned back, and he passed her a hand towel, which she used to dry her face. The cloth lowered, damp ends of her hair clung to her face, vulnerability exposed in her eyes.
Allison dried her face. What had he thought about that? A blow job was one thing, but dunking her face into his bathwater was brazen, even for her. She’d just done what she’d a mind to. The way his cock had hardened so quickly when he’d told her to look at it had set her heart pounding. All her attention had gone to it, so lovely, dark and strong. Stroking had not been enough, and she’d just wondered … so she’d done it. Of course, she couldn’t keep him in her mouth long, hanging over the edge of the tub, her only goal had been to give him a new feeling, a better feeling and give in to her own impulse since she was being all truthful today. She glanced at him and froze. He rose from the tub, water chasing down the ridges of his muscles, droplets sliding down massive thighs that were now at eye level, framing his beautiful cock. Looking up, she found herself the subject of his intense attention. She felt like a rabbit.
“I want to pull you up and kiss the living daylights out of you,” he growled. “But I’m afraid I’ll fall and crack my head.” He smiled, and she answered him with one of her own. Then the moment was over; she stood and helped him out of the tub, glad to see he was moving much better now. She tugged him to the bench and toweled his hair, dried his neck and torso, and rubbed him down with a topical cream. He turned on the bench, gripped the sides of her face in both hands, the range of motion in his right arm so much better than when she’d arrived, and kissed her deeply. An echoing desire rose in her. It began with an ache in her chest, her heart unfolding, opening, and then this utter awareness of him, of his being male, being nude, kissing her, the firm weight of his hands, pressing to her ribs, sliding them down to her hips, tugging her closer. The slow reverence of those hands started an awareness that bloomed bright and sharp into full-on arousal, her underwear dampening, her hands with a mind of their own, sliding up his bare thighs, coasting over the deep muscles girdling his hips, the masculine formation making her moan into his mouth. He answered her with a groan, his mouth moving firmly against hers. God, she wanted him deep inside her. She would kill to shove him back against the wall and straddle him, join with him. She gripped his biceps, and a sharp grunt emerged from him.
“Oh no,” she cried. She’d hurt him. “Derrick, I’m so sorry, I got carried away.”
He smiled at her. “We got carried away.”
“Let’s get you into something warm. Do you have a robe?” She hopped off the bench, snatching up towels and putting them over the edge of the tub. Her shirt was soaked. Her jeans, only less so.
“Let’s get us both warm,” he said as he rose and took her hand.
Chapter 14
This new Allie followed him easily into his bedroom and accepted a black T-shirt, which hung on her like a dress. Then they went out to the kitchen. Allison busied herself at the stove, while Derrick just enjoyed being clean, warm and rubbed down, the aches of the last night fading. She turned and presented him with a cut of steak, fries, and spinach wilted in oil and garlic.
“Sophia?” he asked.
Allison nodded. “Next time I won’t have to ask anyone,” she murmured.
“Damn right,” he agreed, understanding that they were both saying that there would be a next time. From his perspective, there was going to be a next time even if she’d never come here today. He thought about that.
“You know I was going to see you again without this, right?”
Allison glanced at him sharply. “You think I’m trying to bribe you into caring for me?” Her voice was diffident and prickly.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” he said. As Allison’s expression hardened, he hurried to clarify. “But I’m thankful you did. I was in a lot of pain, and you’ve made me feel so much …” He let the sentence hang there. She handed him another ale and came to sit next to him, turning on her stool, caressing his cheek. “I did it because I wanted to and I always do exactly what I choose.” She kissed him gently.
Appeased, he returned to his meal. They had just finished when Ben came through the door, the expression on his face thunderous. Derrick checked his watch; it was six thirty. He’d woke Ben this morning, brought him to the hospital to see George and then Ben had left for work. Derrick had stayed until they released George and checked out his own shoulder.
“Did you go see him?” Derrick asked.
“Yep. He’s freakin’ broke,” Ben said. Derrick’s skin crawled. Ben’s voice got louder, and he dropped his gear by the door. Derrick could tell the minute his friend recognized the contents of the plastic bag there. “That the bot we took on the job? I hope to God you pulled your own stuff out of the trash for once.” Derrick felt his face heat. The night Ben had found out Derrick had trashed another robot; his friend hadn’t minced words. Ben telling him he was acting like a baby had done nothing for their friendshi
p, straining as it was under the weight of the expectations they each held. Derrick was smart enough to know he had to find another place to practice his hobby. He couldn’t keep reminding them both of their failures.
“Sophie did it.” Derrick observed his friend. Ben had a wild crush on his sister that Sophia didn’t reciprocate, as far as he knew, but she also acted as if she didn’t realize the extent of Ben’s interest.
“Of course, she did.” Ben bent over and hauled the bag to the worktable dropping it there. “And who’re you?”
This was directed at Allie and Ben’s brisk tone got under Derrick’s skin, but he let it go. Allie could hold her own. He, of all people, knew that.
“I’m Allison Walton, Derrick’s friend. I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Brother.”
“Excuse me?”
“George is my brother. And thanks.” Ben glared at Derrick.
“Sorry man,” he said. “I didn’t go into details.”
Ben flicked a glance at Allie, his gaze flashing back to Derrick. “Of course you didn’t. You’re one of those Egyptian things, with the paws.”
“A sphinx?” Derrick let the blow land, guessing he was standing in for George.
“Whatever. Stay silent, and you won’t have to take any chances,” Ben said. Derrick could tell the moment Allison took offense.
“Wow, just wow,” she said, and again, Derrick understood the downdraft that Allison would become in his life, changing the dynamics of his relationships with the wind tunnel she would create.
“Excuse me?” Ben turned on her.
“That’s a fine thing for you to say to him,” she countered. She backed her words up by getting off her stool and putting her hands on her hips. Derrick rolled his eyes. And people said Italians were hot-blooded. He got to his feet and grabbed her elbow, turning her toward him.
“But doesn’t he know you were hurt too?”
He pulled her into him, leaning down and whispering in her ear. “Go into my bedroom, please, and wait for me there.” She started to sputter at him, flinging a hand behind her to gesture at Ben. Derrick tried to explain. “He’s had a horrible day …”
“So have you!”
“And he’s my best friend. George is like a brother to me too. This is private.”
Her pretty eyes betrayed a measure of hurt. Derrick sighed and leaned his forehead against hers.
“Please, I’m asking you nicely to go and give me a moment.”
She stared him down for a moment, then muttered, “OK” and headed off down the hall, pausing briefly to turn around and look at Ben. “I’m really sorry about your brother.” And then she disappeared.
“So,” Derrick said. “You want to spit it out?”
“He’s broke, Der.”
“And?”
“And he went to a loan shark.”
Derrick wasn’t surprised, he’d gotten over his shock somewhere between Debra breaking down in tears and his own X-rays.
“How much?”
Ben expelled a breath, his hands fisted at his sides. “When it started? Stupid twenty grand. That’s what he needed.”
Derrick groaned, understanding Ben’s anger now. Even with the renovations, he and Ben could have come up with that, if the stupid clod had only asked.
“He knew we borrowed to fix this place, so he didn’t ask us!” Ben’s voice rose to an anguished shout. Derrick wanted to punch something.
“And now?”
“Seventy thousand.” Ben’s voice was a hoarse whisper.
“Seventy?” Derrick could hardly imagine it. “How long?”
“A year,” Ben said. “George has been trying for a year to catch up. They’re charging seventeen and a half percent every two weeks!” Derrick grabbed his phone and ran the numbers.
“So he’s paid back twenty-one thousand, and he owes seventy?” He could hardly believe the stupidity of it. “Why didn’t he ask your dad? Hell, if he was willing to take that kind of risk with strangers, why didn’t he ask my dad? At least the beatings would have been verbal.” Derrick couldn’t stay still anymore, he strode to the windows, slapping the flat of his hands against the glass. His agitation had the opposite effect on Ben.
Ben sank onto a stool and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know how to help him, ’Rick.”
“Neither do I,” he said. “But we’ll find a way.” Derrick glanced back toward his suite. “Should I send her home now?”
Ben glanced toward Derrick’s end of the space and shook his head morosely. “God knows when you’ll find another one who can cook.”
Derrick let that go, after all, Allie could definitely cook, and Derrick had no intention of finding someone different. “What about George? How much do you want her to know?”
“I don’t care.” Ben got up and starting to walk toward his rooms. “Maybe she knows someone who can help.”
“And Sophia?”
Ben stopped, without looking back. “What about her?”
“Can I tell her?”
His friend’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe she knows something that can help.” His friend continued down the hall and disappeared. Derrick returned to his bedroom.
Opening the door, he found Allie lying on her back, looking up at his ceiling.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey, yourself,” she said. Her brown hair fanned out around her. Derrick walked to the bed and looked down at her. Now he knew what she would look like, someday, if their schedules and stamina ever aligned. “Thanks for giving us a minute.”
“Your ceiling is cleaner than mine,” she observed. “But you don’t have a ceiling fan.”
“Central air,” he said.
“Of course,” she replied. Derrick patted the side of her thigh.
“Move over.”
She scooted to the right, and he laid down next to her.
“How’s your back?” she asked.
“Actually, it’s OK right now. I can lie down, more than I could do this morning.”
“Your friend is kind of a jerk.”
He smiled at that. “This woman I know handles that for me.
Beside him, she sighed. “Why do you let him talk to you like that?”
“It’s a long story. He’s frustrated with me right now.”
“Why?”
Resignation colored his words for him. “I’ve had opportunities he wanted, and I didn’t take them. He doesn’t understand why.”
Allie turned on her side so she could look at him. He couldn’t turn his neck to see her, the repairs didn’t go that far. “Neck still won’t turn much.”
She pushed up on one arm looking down at him, her curly hair falling around them both. “What did you want?”
“His father; I wanted to be like his father.”
“And Ben?”
“He wanted to be more like mine.” He cleared his throat. “Rich, successful. Not an idiot, of course.”
“Of course.” She knelt up, straddled him lightly and sat back, her rump nestled against him.
“Don’t start anything Allie, I’m too tired.”
She smiled down at him, wiggling her bottom. “I’m just sitting here. Isn’t it easier for us to talk this way?”
“Don’t make me use my arms to pull you off of there.”
She made a face and pushed back, bringing the front of her crotch in line with the bottom of his balls. He didn’t think this was going to be all that much better; her hands now rested on his hip bones.
“That’s not helping,” he said and let go a groan when the sly smile slid over her face. She pushed back farther, lowering herself to her belly and draping over his legs, her face just above his junk.
“Not helping.”
She fiddled with the string on his sweats, and they both watched the results of her efforts rise before her.
“Oh hell.” He gave up, laying his head back and closing his eyes. She pinched the top of his thigh.
“Not that relaxed,” sh
e said, her voice husky. Derrick opened his eyes to a dream, his rod in her warm hand, Allie with her curls tucked behind her ears, pupils round, dark, lips pink, poised above his jutting erection. Her eyes tipped at the sides just a bit, and from this angle, she looked like a dark elf, all she needed was a crown of flowers. He watched in fascination as she flattened her wet tongue and pressed it to the top of his cock, lowering her mouth over the tip and puckering up. She repositioned herself to the side of him so she could really get to work and that was all he needed. He allowed himself to feel her tongue swirling around the tip, flicking back and forth, up and down on the sensitive underside. She worked herself lower and lower, getting his rod wet and slick, gripping his root with one rough hand, bringing her other hand to his nuts.
He growled. His sac was sensitive, and she didn’t know it yet, but at the warning, Allison gentled her touch, seeming to understand. Her working hands whispered over his inner thighs, stroked softly down the seam between his balls, and then she wiggled a finger underneath him and curled it, pressing softly behind his sac, stroking him there with a firm, consistent pressure, moving maddeningly slow.
His hips jerked up of their own accord, his shoulder sang in pain, but he wouldn’t stop her for anything. He planted his left hand on the top of her head, gathering the curls into his fist and tugged her upward. She hummed around his cock, bobbing up and down as he helped her set the rhythm that he wanted. He pushed down, the sight of him sliding into her pretty mouth making his balls start to draw up. She eagerly doubled down on the movement, pressing farther and farther until he felt the tip of his dick hit the back of her throat and slide in.
“Jesus, Allie.” He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut, concentrating on the feelings, willing himself to hold back, to prolong this exquisite torture as long as possible. For her part, Allie gagged a bit, and that almost undid him. Then she let him slide out of the warm, wet haven of her mouth. She brought her head up and looked at him. The sides of her mouth glistened, and he felt his prick swell at the sight. She knelt up. What was she doing? Was she done? Maybe she didn’t like to swallow? He held his breath, wanting to hold onto his arousal, wanting her to put her mouth back around his cock, damn it.
