“I’m always fucking wet for you.” She breathes. I love it when she talks dirty.
Ah, fuck this. I grab the scrap of lace covering her pussy and yank until the material rips. Her nails dig into my shoulders, raking over my skin.
I grip her waist and pick her up, slamming her back down on the coffee table. Her breath hitches violently. I don’t do careful, and she doesn’t want careful, no matter what she tells herself.
I press my hard cock against her bare pussy, only a layer of denim between us. She moans, her lips parting as her eyes close. I nip her bottom lip and her fingers dig into my back. I’ve never wanted anything more than I want to dive into her pussy right now.
CHAPTER TEN
MOLLY
Oh dear fucking god. I can barely breathe as Hugo’s lips trail across my jaw and down my throat. I can’t think, I can’t see anything but him, can’t feel anything but his lips on my body, his hands touching me, holding me possessively. He dominates me with one look.
He rears up over me, watching me like a predator. His hands grasp my shirt and yank it apart. The buttons pop off, scattering everywhere and bouncing off the coffee table. I bite my lip and try to clench my thighs together, meeting his hard muscular thighs.
A cocky smile pulls at his lips as he leans over me, tracing his lips over my stomach. I tremble underneath him.
“You’re sexy as fuck when you’re like this, sweetness.” I can’t respond, I can’t breathe. My fingers wind into his hair as my hips grind up against him, trying to find some kind of friction. Anything. I just need something. “So fucking wild for me.” He growls, his hot breathe touching my skin in a sensual caress.
I’m pulling at the strands of his hair in desperation as my body starts to take over, writhing under his touch. He roughly shoves my skirt up further over my hips, before his hands move to the insides of my thighs, his palms gliding over the sensitive skin.
“So fucking beautiful.” He groans as he stares at my pussy, biting his bottom lip. He kneels between my thighs, and then his mouth is on me, and I…oh my god. I swear he’s trying to kill me. My eyes flutter closed as my head falls back and a long moan slips from my lips.
“Fucking watch me, Molly.” He rumbles, his breath blowing over my wet pussy. I lean up on my elbows, and my eyes meet his, between my legs. “Watch me fuck you with my tongue.” I’ve never been a dirty talker, but damn his words always do something to me. A small smirk kicks up the side of his mouth, before he very literally fucks me with his tongue. Feeling it is one thing, but watching it at the same time, it’s erotic in the most intimate way.
His eyes hold mine as his tongue flicks over my clit. I clench my fists and feel my nails bite into the skin of my palm. His tongue moves over me, in me, teasing me until I’m squirming and rolling my hips up toward his face as a stream of expletives leave my lips.
He laughs against me, and the vibrations drive me wild. I’m so bloody close. I need to come, more than I need my next breath. This is what he does to me, what he always does. He imbeds himself into my physical being until I’m desperate, dependent and downright fucking shameless.
“Just fucking make me come already!” I snarl.
He lifts his face away from me and cocks an eyebrow, a smug grin on his face. “Ask nicely.” Oh, I’m going to kill him. “Beg me to make you come Molly.” His voice is a husky rasp that washes over my fraught senses.
I have no shame at this point, so I do. I beg him. “Make me come.” I groan.
He thrusts two fingers inside me, and my hips buck off the table. Then, he leans forward and flicks his tongue over my clit. Everything starts to explode. My fingers are clawing manically at my own hair, as he pounds his fingers into me. He’s brutal and unforgiving, and I love it. I come so hard, I see stars as I scream his name.
I drag my eyes open and immediately squint against the bright morning light. My head is pounding, and my mouth feels like a camels arsehole. It takes me a few moments to become aware of my surroundings. Hugo’s house. I remember coming back here, and drinking, and then…fuck, smoking pot? After that it’s all blank. I certainly don’t know how I got to his bed.
I sit up slowly, fighting back the churning in my stomach. Gary is laying on the end of the bed snoring quietly, and Hugo is next to me. It’s then that I notice my state of undress. My shirt is ripped and dangling from my shoulders, exposing my bra. My skirt is pushed up my thighs, and rucked up around my hips, and I don’t have any underwear on. Fuck! I rack my brain trying desperately to remember glimpses from last night, and when I finally do start to remember, I wish I hadn’t. I hold my hand to my head. Okay, I just…I need to leave. I glance to my right, where Hugo is sleeping, breathing heavily.
I tiptoe out of the bed and into his walk in wardrobe, taking one of his shirts from a draw before I leave the bedroom and go to the bathroom down the hall.
I look like I’ve been thoroughly fucked. My hair is a bloody mess, and my dishevelled clothes are unsalvageable. I take off the tattered shirt and drop it in the small bin. Hugo’s shirt smells of his wash powder, and I take a deep breath of the material. My mind is racing through a thousand emotions right now, but mainly I feel guilty and ashamed. I feel guilty that I slept with Hugo, and ashamed that I allowed myself to go there with him again after I said I never would. I feel guilty that I slept with him, when I’m seeing Alex, and I feel ashamed that I couldn’t control myself around him…again, and that could mean the end of our friendship, because we can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep doing this! We’re friends, but I can’t seem to restrain myself around him! He’s like crack to my hormones. I like to pretend I’m impervious to him, but clearly I’m not.
I wash my mouth out with mouthwash quickly and drag my hair into a pony tail. I just need to get out of here right now. I can’t face him. I need time to wallow in my own slutiness.
I manage to find my bag and shoes and creep out of the flat without waking Hugo up. Now I need to go home and get rid of this hangover, which seems much worse for the whole weed smoking thing, than usual. Then, I need to work out what the hell I’m doing with Hugo, because last night sure as shit went past friendship.
I push the door of the flat open and dump by bag on the table by the door. George is sat on the sofa cross legged, and wide eyed as he shovels spoonful’s of coco pops into his mouth. He eyes my t-shirt, or rather Hugo’s t-shirt in that ‘I know what you did last night’ way of his. The tension in the room is palpable, and George looks like he’s settled in for a good show. Standing across the room, leaning against the breakfast bar, is Alex.
My stomach clenches hard, because I realise how I must look right now, dressed in Hugo’s shirt. Shit.
“Hey, Alex. What are you doing here?” I struggle to keep the smile on my face, as my temples throb.
He narrows his eyes at me, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he looks angry. He’s normally so perfectly poised, it’s almost a relief to see that he can let go, even if it’s not in a good way.
“I thought I’d take you for lunch, but I didn’t realise you already had plans.” Okay, that was definitely a dig. Wait, lunch? I check the clock on the wall, it’s eleven thirty. Fuck this looks so bad right now.
“I’m just getting in from last night. It ended up being a bit of a heavy one.” I explain. That familiar feeling of shame washes over me, and my knees feel like buckling under the weight of it. I’m a horrible person. I can barely bring myself to even look him in the eye. How do I even explain this? What do I say? Is there even anything I can say? He won’t want anything to do with me anymore. No-one wants to date a slut, and that’s exactly what I am.
“I can see that.” He says coldly. Shit.
“Where did you go hooker?” George asks. I know he’s trying to ease the tension, but that’s not helping, seeing as I feel like a dirty hooker right now. I don’t even have underwear on for Christ sake. I bite my lip as memories flash through my mind like a film on fast forward. Hugo ripping my knickers to shreds, kissing me, fucking me with his mouth… I can feel a flush creeping up my neck. Shit.
“I had to go and meet my dad for dinner.” I say, trying to keep my voice level. His eyes meet mine, full of understanding. George knows all too well what a prick my father is. Not only is he a patronising dick, but he’s also homophobic, and very disapproving of George. Fuck him.
“Oh.” George whispers. “One bottle of vodka or two?”
I shrug. “Just one.”
“Huh, you look like you had two.” One and a joint.
I flick him the bird and he cackles.
I look at Alex again. “We need to talk.” He says.
I gesture with my arm towards my room, and he steps into the hallway. I don’t want to do this right now, but what choice do I have?
I take a deep breath and go to follow him. “Good luck, sweetie.” George whisper shouts as I leave the room. I muster a small smile and go to have what will inevitably be an awkward conversation.
I close my bedroom door and turn to face Alex. I lean back against the door, not really wanting to step any further into the room. I’m gripped in a panic, and the anxiety over rides my hang over. My senses go on high alert. I hate confrontation, and I know that’s exactly what this is going to be, just from the look on his face.
“You have to know how this looks.” He gestures to me as he paces in front of my bed. “You socialise with him a lot, and now you turn up wearing his shirt, and looking like you haven’t slept all night.” He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for my explanation.
His golden eyes hold my gaze in a way that has me wanting to turn and run from the room. Guilt is eating at me. Do I tell Alex? If I do, I will lose him, without a doubt. Shit, I don’t know what to do here. I mean, Alex and I are just dating right, which means that really, my drunken one night stand isn’t any of his business yet. Oh, who am I kidding? Shit. I don’t want to tell him because I like him. I don’t want to tell him because right now I feel like one of Hugo’s dirty whores, and Alex makes me feel valued and wanted. I want to feel wanted. I don’t want him to walk away just because I had some drunken fumble with Hugo. I know that lying to him is wrong, but for my own selfish reasons I just can’t confess what happened between Hugo and I. I was drunk, I made a mistake. It won’t happen again. End of.
“Hugo’s my friend.” I tell him.
He smiles humourlessly and looks away from me. “I see the way he looks at you, Molly. I’m not stupid.”
I swallow heavily. “You have met Hugo right? He looks at all women like that.”
“Exactly. Forgive me for being slightly suspect if my girlfriend is hanging around with a guy like that.” I don’t really hear what he says. All I hear is girlfriend. Do I want to be his girlfriend? I guess that’s the natural progression when you date someone for a while. Shit, why now? This is so bloody messy.
“Girlfriend?” I whisper.
His eyes snap to mine and his eyebrows shoot up. “What did you think we were doing here?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I mean, you never said anything.”
“I shouldn’t have to. Do you not want that?” He asks. His expression is calm, but there’s a hint of something in it. He’s anxious.
Do I want that? I like Alex. He’s perfect boyfriend material. I have no reason not to give things a go with him. Oh, except the fact that I just fucked Hugo. Maybe this is what I need though, clear lines, a future. So I answer him.
“Yes.” I tell him, because I can’t think of a good enough reason not to. That in itself should probably make me say no, but I feel fragile and vulnerable right now.
A look of relief crosses his face as a small smile makes its way onto his lips. “So, Hugo?” He pushes.
I frown. “I told you he’s a friend.”
“Did you sleep with him?” This is the moment. There are some moments in your life that are pivotal, moments that alter and change the direction of your life. Moments that you will either look back at and regret, or smile at. My stomach churns uneasily as the lie falls from my lips so easily, that I start to seriously question myself.
“Of course not.”
His whole body relaxes a little. “Okay.” He breathes.
I almost want to cry, because he believed me so easily. He trusts me, and that trust is so misplaced. He deserves better than me. He’s the good guy, and I used to think I was the good girl, but now…now I don’t know what or who I am.
He drags a hand through his chestnut hair. There’s a pregnant pause, and I wait for his next move. “Come here.” He says quietly. I close the distance between us. “Take the shirt off.” His voice is low and rough, and it makes my skin break out in goose bumps.
I grab the hem of the shirt, pulling it over my head. His eyes skim over my bare skin, and my body tingles under the heat in his eyes. He lifts his hands and grips my waist. His hands are so broad they almost span my narrow waist.
“You’re beautiful Molly. I hate the idea of anyone else touching you.” He whispers. I’ve never seen this side of him. He’s normally so polite, so controlled. I like this side of him. I like him taking control, and trying to call the shots. It’s hot. His fingers caress the skin of my stomach gently. He treats me like I’m precious. When he touches me it’s with reverence.
He traces his fingers up the centre of my stomach and between my breasts, continuing his path until his fingers dance over my throat. My breathe hitches slightly, as his eyes meet mine. His eyes are captivating, but up close, they’re hypnotic, gold flecked caramel. He grips my chin, running the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. I suck in a sharp breath as my chest suddenly feels like its being squeezed in a vice.
Alex has never had this effect over me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m attracted to him. I always have been. He’s always treated me like something delicate and pretty though. I hate to say it, but I like that Hugo looks at me like he wants to rip my clothes off and fuck me like an animal. It’s primal and raw, and it drives me wild. It allows me to break free of my self-imposed restraints. Hugo doesn’t treat me like a good girl, because with him I’m not good. Alex makes me feel safe and loved, and important. He treats me like I’m good, except right now, he’s not looking at me like a good girl who’s virtue he needs to protect. He’s looking at me like he needs me in every way a man can possibly need a woman.