by Skye Warren
“I’d rather do it,” he said. “Every day.”
It was the closest thing to a commitment I’d ever heard, and I wasn’t picky. I groaned as my head fell back.
He took my clothes off piece by piece until I stood bare and wanting in the middle of the motel room. We jumped onto the bed together, forgetting who was telling who what to do. It wasn’t nearly so much a power struggle as it was a joining. We both wanted this, so what was the use of pretending to fight? He didn’t have to order me to do anything; he only had to ask.
I tasted his body, salt and musk, down his arm and when I got to his hand, I sucked a finger into my mouth. Almost like I was avoiding the good parts, but I wasn’t. I was making up for lost time with the rest of him, all the Colin that I’d taken for granted. I’d never paid nearly enough attention to his forearm, with the banded muscles and soft hair. Or his hands, with their rough calluses and scarred knuckles. I kissed them, one for every hurt.
He was half reclined on the bed as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether to lie back and let me or sit up and take over. I loved that I’d made him like this, indecisive and eager. I moved sideways to the pale skin of his hip. That soft patch of skin that’s not quite his ass or his front, so soft. The softest part of him.
No, that definitely wasn’t true. I moved inland, to an even softer place. A soft lick along the shaft of his cock, right in the middle, another neglected spot.
His body jerked. “Fuck.”
He reached for me, ready to turn me over. Probably to lick me and make me come as he had that night. I wanted it, but I wanted this more.
“Please,” I begged. “I want to make you feel good.”
“That does make me feel good.”
We froze for a second in an awkward tableau, each of us reared up off the bed, ready to pleasure each other but being denied.
I laughed. “We can do it at the same time.”
He laughed too, as if we’d reinvented the sixty-nine position. Silly us for not thinking of it sooner. This had all been done before, but it was new to us.
He rested back on the bed, and I clambered above him. It took a minute, arranging my legs, bumping his nose with my knee, not suffocating him, and I giggled. Laughing during sex—it felt strange but exhilarating.
Then he clamped his hands around my thighs and licked me long and slow, and I wasn’t laughing anymore. He looked different from this angle, all upside down, with his cock pointing at me. I walked my hands down his body until I reached it. I put my mouth to the tip, a chaste kiss.
He sucked on my clit, and my body answered with an involuntary suck. He groaned and then licked me faster, sucked me hard. It made me wild, and I just attacked his cock, just messed it all up with my lips and my face and my saliva. It was dirty but not shameful. Sexy but not scary.
We sucked on each other, taking pleasure and giving it back. The bliss of his mouth on me was only heightened by the taste of his cock in my mouth.
But he’d hit a rhythm, licking my clit, and he put two fingers inside me. I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t possibly think about sucking or stroking when I was so close. I left my mouth closed around him, letting the heat and the wetness and the vibrations of my moans do what they could for him. My hips rocked, and I tried, tried to hold them still, but even then I was shaking with the effort. It wouldn’t last. I couldn’t take it.
He stopped for just a minute, and I almost screamed. “Ride me,” he said. “Do it.”
Fuck, yes, I did. I was so close already. His tongue found my clit again, and I rode it mindlessly, letting my body sway and roll and find its release so it could take me with it. And it did. I came. I came on his mouth and tried so hard not to bite down, but that was all I could think.
The pulse of his cock in my mouth was what aroused me from my stupor. I gave him one last, hard suck, swallowing the saliva that I’d left there as I came. It should have been gross, I should have been embarrassed, but it was just how I’d pleased him. I’d made him feel good and him me, and there was nothing at all gross or embarrassing about that.
I rolled off him, because as much as I wanted to keep sucking him and make him come, I couldn’t even sit up. He didn’t need me to sit, thank God, and he turned me over onto my stomach. I started to pull my legs under me, to prop myself up so he could take me from behind, but he stopped me. Instead he slipped between my legs, barely spread far enough to cradle his hips.
His cock dipped low and slid into me. It was the same thing, being fucked from behind, the same cock, the same hole. But it was totally different, because he wasn’t riding me or pulling my hair or anything like that, but just rocking into me. It was all pleasure, his cock in me, his chest curved around my back. The only pain at all was the small bite of his fingers into my hips, anchoring me to the bed, but it was the sweetest hurt.
And, even sweeter, he began to talk to me, saying the love words he’d written with his body. “You’re beautiful, baby. I missed you. You make me crazy. Fuck, you’re so hot.”
My mind responded to his words with hope and love and pride, but all that was drowned out when the angle of his thrusts pointed down, pinging a certain place inside me. He sped up too, both his thrusts and his words. “Allie, Allie, fuck, you’re so hot and tight. Just for me. Yes, just me. Fuck.”
My mouth opened against the bedspread in a soundless cry. So close, so fucking close. His words tightened and wound, almost unintelligible, except I could hear my name and fuck in close succession. My ass canted back, begging for it. And then he said it.
“I love you.”
He froze, like he hadn’t meant to, like he’d surprised himself, but it was too late. I’d heard him, and I was coming. My body pulsed and shook, and I pushed, impaling myself on him to ride out my orgasm. That was too much, even for him, and he came with a strangled, wordless shout.
He wrapped his arms and legs around my body like a cocoon, with his cock still inside me. I couldn’t move, didn’t want to. We panted together, using up all the air, sharing it. We stayed that way for a long, long time, neither of us wanting to separate. Whenever it was, it would be too soon.
Only finally when I couldn’t breathe—I even let myself see spots—I shrugged at him, and he rolled off. But he grasped my hand, and I held his back. This was the part where I ran to the bathroom, crying, or maybe he did, but neither of us wanted that, so we held on tight.
Chapter Fourteen
Our breathing evened out, and I felt my mind drift into that space between awake and dreams. Something held me back from sleep—it was the fear that this was a dream after all. That I’d wake up, and he’d be gone. Nice sex, Allie. See you next month.
That wasn’t Colin, of course, but he might still leave. I had to be sure.
I squeezed slightly, just to see if he was awake. He tightened his hand on mine.
“I think we have to talk,” I said.
He tensed, his whole body did, with an air of expectancy, and then said on an exhale, “I’m sorry.”
Well, okay. He was sorry for leaving, that was fine. What I was more concerned with was whether he was coming home—
“I’m sorry I did this to you. You lost your job because of me. That was fucked-up, like you said, but it wasn’t supposed to—you were hurt. Almost raped, almost killed, because of me.”
I have an inkling that the man feels guilty as sin.
He blamed himself for all of that, everything. No wonder he was so stressed out. Next thing he’d be blaming himself for what happened with Andrew, since he wasn’t there to protect me from it.
“Christ, Colin. What an ego you have.”
“What?” He sounded strangled.
“You didn’t make your brother hire that guy; you protected me from him. It wasn’t your fault that the shit went down with the cops. It was just dirty cops and bad business and circumstance. You saved me from getting hurt and killed.”
He shook his head.
“And look, the Rick thing, you did that, and it
was wrong. But I could have found another job. Or I could have borrowed money from Shelly or called my dad or a bunch of other things. I went to see you because I wanted you, and that was as good of an excuse as any to have you.”
I could see he wasn’t going to believe me, at least not for a long time. And that was okay, he could take his time, so long as he did it with me.
I sat up and faced him. “I love you. I want you to be with me. To live with me. I don’t want you to feel guilty, but if you do, at least stay with me. We’ll work it out together.”
“It can’t be that simple.” He said it so solemnly. My heart broke and put back together all in that moment for the boy who thought he couldn’t just love and be loved.
“It won’t be easy, maybe, but I want to be with you, and I think you want to be with me. You said you loved me. Did you mean it?”
“You know I did.”
A smiled played on my mouth. It couldn’t be held in. “Maybe so, but I want to hear you say it again.” I thought he’d refuse or maybe say it begrudgingly, but he sat up with me and looked me straight in the eye and said it.
“I love you.”
It was too much again, too much emotion, but I wasn’t going to run into the bathroom or away or anywhere. I turned into his arms where he held me safe. There was something to be said for being able to defend myself, but I liked it better that I didn’t have to.
As the night turned to early morning, I asked, “You are coming back with me, right?”
He nodded against the pillow.
“Let me just shower first,” he said. “You can pack my stuff.”
He looked so hopeful I didn’t have the heart to tell him no. I dressed back into my club trappings and began to pick through the wreckage. What a mess he’d made. Though I couldn’t even grumble about it. I liked that he could depend on me for these small things. He didn’t really need me, but he could rely on me.
And the same was true for him. What I’d said back at the club, that I’d needed it, needed him, hadn’t been right. I didn’t need him, or even his house or any of that. I wanted it and him and everything, but I would be okay no matter what.
I threw his clothes into the one piece of luggage there. Everything else went into a large trash bag I found. I’d sort it all out later and clean all the clothes. I tossed a pair of jeans into the bag, and they thudded against the floor. I pulled them back out—maybe it was his phone or something like that.
I reached my hand into the pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
And stared at it. Marveled at it, rejoiced, then rejected it.
It had to be jewelry. Maybe a— No, don’t even think it. It had to be a necklace or something. Maybe an apology necklace. Or maybe it wasn’t even for me, but Rose or Bailey or anyone but me.
I didn’t want to know. Well, I did, but I didn’t want to guess. Madness lay that way. It was like Pandora’s box, only worse. I hadn’t even opened it, and already it couldn’t be put away.
If I put it back in the jeans and put the jeans back on the floor, he’d know I’d seen it. If I put the jeans in the bag, I’d only have to pull them out again to wash them, and then I’d be in the same dilemma and he’d know I’d seen it.
In a situation like this, damned if I did and damned if I didn’t, there was only one thing to do. I opened the box. A big, square diamond winked at me from its satin bed.
Yes, I immediately thought, only no one had asked me a question.
“Damn,” Colin said.
I hadn’t even heard the water shut off. He stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and plucked the box from my hand, snapping it shut.
“Pretend you didn’t see that,” he said.
My jaw dropped. “You’re just going to leave me hanging?”
“You’re not pretending.”
“Have you changed your mind?”
He shrugged. “Wait and see.”
“Uh-uh.” I shook my head.
He sighed, resigned. Then I saw the spark in his eyes. He was enjoying this, the sadist! I ought to say no. I ought to make him ask me and then say no, but there wasn’t any chance of that.
He dropped the towel and pulled on the jeans from the floor. He was going to do it.
I clapped. “You didn’t have to do that. In fact, it could have helped your case.”
He gave me a look.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” I said. It was all in good fun, but now wasn’t the time to risk it.
He dropped to one knee and took my hand. I shivered. Don’t cry.
I had dreamed of this, once. I’d thought all those wishes and hopes had evaporated away, but now I greeted them like an old childhood friend. It had never been like this, in those dreams, in a motel room where we’d had sex, me wearing slutty clothes and him wearing only jeans. Well, he might have been wearing only jeans in my adolescent dreams. He looked damned good that way. The packaging was different, but this was what I’d always wanted.
Not just getting married, but the forever and ever, I love you, amen.
“Allie,” he said. “You told me once I had a white-knight complex. You said I saved you.”
He was going to say I saved him. It was going to be so romantic.
“But the truth is,” he said, “I didn’t save you—I stole you. I wanted you and I knew I didn’t deserve you, but I didn’t care. And for some reason it seems like you don’t either, so it seems to me that I should make it permanent before you come to your senses. Will you marry me?”
The whole last half of that speech, I hadn’t been able to see his face, but I’d heard him. God, had I heard him. It was the very best possible proposal I’d ever heard. More than I’d ever imagined, but so incredibly us. Only Colin could have said that, and only to me. Don’t pass out.
“Allie?”
“Yes.” I sucked in a deep breath. “I do. Yes, yes.”
The ring slipped on my finger. Then he was kissing me, and I tasted my tears on my tongue and then impatiently swiped my face and kissed him some more. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me harder, but I pulled away.
“No,” I said. “Not until we get home.”
We packed everything else up together, and then we drove separately back to our house. The sky was already in that dusky color of almost light of the very early morning. Shelly lay sleeping on the couch, and I decided not to wake her. We tiptoed past her into the bedroom like two teenagers late from curfew.
In our bedroom we pulled off our dirty clothes and jumped into bed together. We rolled and roughhoused. We played.
A spring must have squeaked or something, because Bailey began to fuss from across the hall. I threw on a nightshirt and undies before settling her back down.
She blinked at me groggily, the slight light through her curtains probably keeping her from sleep. I’d stay here by her side until she fell asleep again, whatever it took. I rubbed her back while she tossed on the bed.
A few minutes later Colin padded in wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I think she’ll take a while.”
“It’s okay,” he whispered back. “I thought I’d sit with you.”
We sat in a daisy chain: Colin, me, and Bailey. It turned out to be not great that Colin had come in. When Bailey saw that there were two of us, the sleeping gig was up, but I didn’t mind. It was sweet that he wanted to be with me and her as a family. It had always been that way with him. From the beginning we’d had the sex, but also the closeness. The love, if I’d been able to put a name on it back then.
Bailey climbed off the bed and sat in my lap as she fully woke up. Then she moved around the room, picking up toys and discarding them, and putting some in Colin’s lap until it was stacked with toys. She explained a complicated game to him involving her giving him a toy and him giving it back, and there may even have been a point system. Colin did his best, but he got scolded a few times.
The nagging part of my mother’s brain knew her sleep sch
edule would be all messed up now. She’d fuss and be cranky, and I’d have to work extra to get her back on schedule. It could take days, really, but I couldn’t be upset, not as the day dawned on our family, playing and happy. It could take days, but we had forever.
THE END
THANK YOU
Thank you for reading Rough! I hope you enjoyed Colin and Allie’s story…
· The next book in the Chicago Underground series is with Shelly and Luke. You can start reading with Wild.
· Or if you want to read the next three books in the Chicago Underground series, you can get the Wild Dirty Secret boxed set.
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· Turn the page to read an excerpt from Wild…
Excerpt from Wild
The party turned out to be a corporate affair in the penthouse of a swanky modern hotel. A bunch of high-profile CEOs getting high and horny amid miles of glass surfaces—what a brilliant idea.
The guys at the front desk checked me out, but discreetly. With furtive glances instead of leers, as befitted an escort of my price range. For all they knew, I was a spoiled girlfriend, not a prostitute. But then, what was the difference?
Outside the suite, I sank my stilettos into the carpet. The dull beat shook from behind the door, already matching the throb in my head. I had the sudden urge to call him as I brushed my fingers against the little black clutch.
What could I say? I know I promised I wouldn’t do it anymore, but I’m about to go bang assholes for money. I tried to join the regular world, but they didn’t want me. I’m sorry. Don’t hate me. Help me.
The door swung open, revealing a man with a shiny forehead and a bulbous belly hanging from between his open dress shirt. “I call dibs,” he shouted, spittle flying in my face.
