Fletcher( Boys of HGU #1)

by Victoria McFarlane

  Tonight we can pretend we’re a normal couple. A normal couple with no tragic past just enjoying each other.

  I never let her go, crossing the lot and holding the door for her to step inside, me close behind her. We’re shown to an intimate table towards the back of the place, a candle flickering in the centre with a single rose in a tall, slim vase and two wine glasses. She sits on one side of the table, me on the other and the first thing that happens has my mouth tugging up. Her legs slides up the inside of my calf, the toe of her heel digging in just enough for me to feel it.

  “Playing footsies, baby?”

  “Well it does appear to be our thing,” she teases.

  “Mm,” I agree, catching her foot.

  Her eyes widen as I trail my finger up the inside of her leg beneath the table. “I think we’ve levelled up in the game, babe,” I grin. There’s only so far I can go with the table in the way but with the way her eyes are darkening, her lips parting my touch affects her just as much as she affects me.

  The waitress comes back with our drinks and takes our food order. I’m grinning as Peyton struggles to get her breath back, scowling at me over the table, “Not fair.”

  “Oh it’s fair,” I tell her, “You tease me in that dress, I tease you in anyway I can.”

  “Is that so?” She asks playfully.

  The mischief in her eyes tells me she’s about to play dirty and I’m not disappointed as she stands up from the table and presses a kiss to my cheek, her hand sliding down the front of my shirt before two fingers tuck into a hole between the buttons, her nails biting into my skin.

  “I’ll be right back,” she says, “don’t miss me too much.”

  I swallow, watching her fine ass sway as she weaves between the tables, heading to the bathrooms.

  I would never have guessed what she had in store for me but this, this, isn’t it.

  Thirty-one

  My confidence leaves me as I step out of the bathroom stall and stare at myself in the mirror. He made me feel alive out there, hot and sexy and free but now that I’m alone, evidence of what I’ve just done in my hand, I wonder how fucking crazy I’ve become.

  No. I can do this.

  He’ll love it.

  Straightening my spine and taking a deep, fortifying breath, I exit the bathrooms, my eyes homing in on him across the room. He’s taking a sip from his beer, relaxed back in his chair, one button of his shirt popped to reveal the top of his hard chest. He’s slicked his hair back and is freshly shaven. He’s so handsome it hurts.

  My heels clip and I keep the hold on myself, trying to convey the confidence I’m grasping for. It’s like clutching at straws but I somehow manage to get across the floor.

  He grins at me when I make it back to the table, tilting his head up to retrieve the kiss on his mouth I give. With shaky hands, I reach forward and tuck the lace into the pocket of his shirt, making sure all of it is inside before I pull away and sit back in my spot.

  His eyes narrow in on me as he reaches into the pocket.

  My hand trembles as I lift my wine glass and then his eyes widen, his mouth dropping open.

  The lace of my panties, right now, is in full view of the restaurant and I’m about to say just that when he snaps out of it and slams his hand into his lap, hiding my underwear.

  He swallows. Blinks. Swallows again.

  “You’re not wearing any panties,” he growls, “You took them off.”

  I flutter my lashes. Confidence swimming back at this reaction. His jaw works, the muscle in his cheeks flexing with each twitch.

  “I did.”

  “You’re naked under that dress.”

  “I am.”

  “Peyton,” he warns, his control seemingly slipping.

  “Yes, Fletcher?”

  “Is this a joke?”

  “Oh no,” I say innocently and lean across the table, “I can assure you, those panties in your pocket are the ones I left the house in. Right now, I am naked under my dress and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”

  “You’re going to kill me,” he moans, his hands balling into fists on top of the table, “I’m dead.”

  I laugh, “You look very much alive.”

  His eyes snap up to mine, “The moment we leave this joint I’m going to be buried so fucking deep inside you you’ll forget your own name.”

  “Promises, promises,” my voice gives away my desire with the way it shakes, my tone husky.

  I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so quickly in my life, I’m not even entirely sure what I was eating but I know I didn’t taste it, the promise of what was to come after our date too enticing to hang around. Fletcher pays the bill and before I can really shrug my coat on I’m being tugged through the restaurant. The cold doesn’t even register, the heat rushing my veins burns to a scorching level and once I’m inside the truck, Fletcher tugs me into him, forcing his chair as far back as it can go so I can straddle his lap. My dress restricts my movements but Fletch remedies that by tugging it up, leaving my entire bottom half naked and exposed.

  I should be worried about being caught right now, about someone seeing, we are parked in a public freaking lot right now but I’m too turned on to care. His hand slides between my legs, his fingers pressing to my clit and my hips jerk. His mouth devours mine, his fingers moving skillfully, working me up like I’m an instrument he’s an expert at playing. My hips grind shamelessly against his hand.

  “I need you in me,” I groan, my mouth on his throat, teeth nipping.

  He growls, stopping what he’s doing to tug at his own pants. I feel the head of his cock at my entrance and I don’t wait, sinking down onto his length. He fills me to the hilt, and collectively we groan.

  “We gotta make this quick, baby,” Fletcher moves my hips.

  I begin to ride him, right there in the parking lot, my hips tracing a figure of eight as I chase the high that is right there. Our skin slaps together, our breathing heaved and ragged.

  Holy shit this is the hottest thing I’ve ever done.

  “Yes,” Fletch groans out, “Like that baby, don’t fucking stop.”

  Like I could. I roll my hips, his cock pulsing in and out of me. My climax crashes through me but I’m not able to still, not when his hands grip my hips and forces me to continue, my orgasm continuing as he chases his own release. He suddenly stills, his head thrown back as the most guttural groan rips from his throat. The sound alone has my insides clenching, a new wave of desire trying to take purchase.

  The windows are fogged up and we’re both sweating. My make up is no doubt running down my face, my hair a mess but right now I don’t care.

  I stay in his lap for a few more minutes but my muscles begin to complain at the position and I have to move before I begin to cramp. Gently I slide off of him, wincing at the loss and the feel of him seeping onto my inner thighs and then shimmy my dress down to cover myself.

  This is the bit about sex people don’t talk about. The mess.

  I chuckle to myself as I squirm in my seat, not exactly comfortable with the wetness between my legs.

  “You good?” Fletch adjusts himself, the sound of his zipper obscenely loud in the car.

  “It’s just – I – uh,” I wiggle, “need to clean up.”

  He chuckles, “Let’s get you home.”

  The drive back is silent but not awkward, sort of companionable, and I relax into my seat, watching the city roll by. He parks a little way down from my house and as we walk up the path I note the house is dark, Eric and mom already having gone to bed.

  “You need to be quiet,” I tell him, taking his hand as I pull my keys from my purse.

  “You were serious about sneaking me in?”

  “Deadly,” I grin, “Now be quiet.”

  I unlock the door and step inside, kicking off my shoes in the foyer, “Leave yours on, mom’ll question the shoes if she sees them in the morning.”

  We creep through the darkened house, up the stairs and towards my be
droom at the end of the hall. I think we’ve gotten away with it when I hear the click of my moms bedroom door.

  Panic swarms through me and I all but push Fletcher into my room. I hear a loud crash on the other side of the door just as mom steps out, tying the gown around her body.

  “Oh hey mom.”

  A groan sounds. Shit. He sounds hurt.

  Mom’s brows pucker, “Peyton, is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, sorry, I tripped,” I lie, “I’m going to bed now.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” She steps up to me, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead the way moms do when they think you’re ill, “You look flushed. Are you getting a fever?”

  “No, no,” I wave her off, “I’m good.”

  “Okay, sweetie,” she leans in and kisses me but pulls back with a wrinkle in her nose, “Is that male cologne?”

  Shit. “Uh, I spent some time with the guys tonight.”

  Her brows pucker. She can see right through my lies and usually I would tell her, tell her everything but Fletcher’s plea to keep what we have going on a secret comes to the forefront of my mind. I can’t even tell her.

  Her mouth purses but she doesn’t push me, instead she kisses my cheek and heads back to her room. I heave a sigh of relief and then step into my room, clicking the door closed behind me.

  “Did I hurt you?” I whisper.

  “Just a bruised shin,” he laughs, “For a little thing you sure are strong.”

  I laugh, “Sorry, I panicked.”

  I head through to my en suite, leaving Fletch in the bedroom whilst I quickly wash off in the shower, skipping my hair and then dress in a fresh pair of pyjamas.

  When I come out of the bathroom he’s made himself at home in my bed, his top half naked but I can’t see the bottom with it being covered by the sheets. His clothes are folded on the chair at the desk in my room and I just take a moment to soak it in. He meets my eyes from across the room and smiles softly.

  “Hey,” I breathe.

  “Come here,” he opens his arms and I quickly go to him, crawling up the bed and into his waiting body, curling up into his side and his warmth.

  “Do you know,” he mumbles, holding me close, “That I’m in love with you?”

  Tears spring to my eyes as I look up to him, finding him already looking down at me. I cup his face and press my lips to his, trying to push all my feelings into this one kiss, trying to convey how much I love him too.

  “I love you too,” I whisper against his mouth.

  Gently, he rolls me onto my back, settling himself between my thighs as he kisses me like I’m the only person in the world. His hands worship my body, touching, feeling, committing to memory. We make love, it’s slow and intense. His body moves softly but no less skillfully, bringing me to climax gently.

  After, he tucks me into his chest, my back to his front and wraps his arms around me and at no point during the night does he let me go.

  Thirty-two

  To say I was ready for break to be over would be a lie. I wasn’t ready to head back to my normal. The last few weeks with Fletcher have been some of the best I’ve ever had, we spent a lot of our time together, out doing things any normal couple would do, away from prying eyes of course and our nights were spent mostly at my house seeing as my bed was bigger and it was easier to get him in and out without anyone noticing.

  After packing up my things I head down to my mom waiting in the foyer. Her face drops as she takes in all my bags, a little tear springing to her eyes like I’m heading half way across the country rather than forty five minutes down the highway. Hell the university was still in the same city!

  “I’m going to miss you, honey,” her voice breaks on the emotion and even though I know I’m only down the road and will see her again in two weeks my own eyes water with unshed tears, my throat growing tight.

  “I’ll text you when I get there,” I tell her, letting her crush me to her chest. Eric stands by the door, his face soft as he pulls me in for a hug.

  “See ya later, kid,” he ruffles my hair like I’m still ten and then grabs my bags, carrying them out to my car. After loading them in the trunk he goes back to stand with mom, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a gesture to comfort her.

  I climb in behind the wheel, tune my phone into the speaker to start blasting my music and then back up, waving at them through the windscreen.

  In just a few short hours I’d see Fletcher. Along with the guys but he’s going to be there and I wonder how it will go. We’ve been alone every time we’ve seen each other this break and this would be the first time since our relationship was defined that we’re going to be in the same room as other people who know us.

  The drive goes quickly, anticipation to see him passing the time quickly and then I’m pulling into the lot outside my dorm, parking my car next to Demi’s mustang and grabbing my cases from the trunk.

  Taylor Swift is playing loudly inside the room when I unlock it and step inside and then I see Demi in the kitchen, bent over her laptop.

  “Working already?” I shout over the music.

  She startles, clutching her chest dramatically, “Jesus, Peyton,” she scolds, “You scared the shit out of me.”

  I chuckle, dumping the bags outside my room and then crossing the space to hug her, “Good break?”

  “The best,” she beams, “how was yours?”

  I think of all the time I spent with Fletcher, our time at the cabin, the cute dates he took me on and then the nights where we lost ourselves in each other. Sex with Fletcher is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, it’s intense, it burns so hot we risk combustion and the way he makes me feel, the way my heart feels like it’s stuttering whenever he touches me makes me believe this is more than just sex or lust or even love. It’s more than love, it’s a connection, a form of bond I don’t think anyone or anything could break it.

  Demi’s brows pull down low, “What happened?”

  “Huh?” I snap out of my own thoughts, refocusing on her.

  “Something happened during the break,” she accuses, eyes narrowing, “what?”

  “Do you want coffee?” I deflect, switching on the machine in our small kitchen.

  “Spill it,” she demands, “What happened?”

  I continue to make coffee like she hasn’t asked the million dollar question. “How’s your mom?”

  The way her eyes narrow and lips purse tells me she’s not ready to drop the subject but she answers, “She’s okay, recovering from the last chemo session.”

  “That’s good,” I touch her shoulder, “she’s going to get past this.”

  “Damn straight she is,” Demi nods assertively, “My mom is an ass kicker.”

  I smile. That much was true. Eliza Atwood was an amazingly fierce woman, a single mother who raised Demi and her younger brother single handedly whilst working three jobs and a home business. I had no idea how she did it but somehow, she managed to bring in enough money to feed them whilst her clothing business took off. She created beautiful handmade baby and toddler clothes, designing, sewing and marketing her brand online and it really took off. Now her clothes are featured in some of the top children stores in the country, the Atwood name in demand.

  Demi was insanely proud of her mom and I couldn’t blame her. The woman was incredible.

  The fact that she had stage 2 cancer and had to have a mastectomy seemed truly unfair for everything she had accomplished in life. The doctors were confident in her recovery but it still didn’t seem right that the woman had struggled her entire life to build a future for her and her kids and when she finally made it, when her clothes took off and she was picked up by the big brands her diagnosis kicked her back down.

  Life was truly unfair.

  “Give her my love when you next speak to her, yeah?” I say.

  Demi was from Denver, only an hour or so from Hillgrove and I’d visited home with her a few times since we met three years ago and there was a special place in my
heart for the woman who raised such a strong girl.

  “I will,” Demi sniffles, pushing back the emotion that comes with discussing her mom, “how’s your family?”

  “They’re good.” I tell her about Christmas and the cabin with the guys which she seems to get stuck on.

  “You spent four days in Aspen? With Fletcher?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I look down at the coffee in my mug, “and the guys.”

  “Fletcher invited you?”

  “Yeah, you knew this.”

  “What happened?”

  My cheeks burn.

  Her eyes go wide.

  “Something happened!”

  “No,” I lie, “Nothing happened.”

  If possible, her eyes narrow so far I’m surprised she can even still see out of them, “Do not lie to me.”

  “Demi,” I plead.

  “You will tell me what happened otherwise I’m just going to start making shit up.”

  “Demi, please, it was…” I trail off.

  “You had a threesome with Decker and Colt?” She starts, “no that’s not it, maybe a foursome with all three of them!?”

  I choke on my coffee, “Demi!”

  “I mean, I wouldn’t mind a Decker, Colt sandwich but you, I never thought you’d be like that!”

  “Demi!” I pause, “Wait, you like Decker and Colt?”

  She snorts, “Please, they’re hot, of course they are but I don’t like them.”

  I cringe knowing she thinks the guys are hot. I mean I’m not blind, I know they’re attractive guys but even thinking about them that way has my stomach rolling.

  “I mean, Decker,” She groans, “That guy is hotter than the sun!”

  My mouth drops open.

  “What?” She hisses, “I’m not fucking blind! He’s like Adonis level hot.”

  “Okay, enough!” I slash my hand through the air, “he’s like my brother and that’s just weird.”

  She chuckles, “if it wasn’t Decker or Colt then something happened with Fletcher.”

  My face must give me away because her mouth opens and closes, resembling some sort of fish, “Oh my God! It happened!”