by LP Lovell
I lean in and trace my lips over the exposed skin of her neck. She trembles in my arms and throws her head back against my shoulder. I smile against her heated skin as I feel her submit to me. Her hands reach back and grab my hips on either side, her fingers tightening against me in a bid to steady herself. I inhale the scent of her, feel the heat of her body against mine, each ragged breath, every hammering heartbeat. I become completely wrapped up in her. She pulls me in, she always does. She makes me want to fuck her senseless, but she’s also the only woman for which I will fight my more animalistic urges, because it’s her. Fuck, what the hell am I doing? No-one should have that much hold over another person, and certainly not me. I’m immune to this shit.
She moves to the music, and grinds her arse against my cock. My hand tightens around her throat in response, and she tilts her face toward me. I watch as she bites her full bottom lip. Her hand reaches up and winds around the back of my neck, her nails dragging across my skin, making me hiss out a strained breath.
I’m on the fucking edge, and she is seriously playing with fire. I’m not the chivalrous guy who will turn her down because it’s the right thing to do. I’m the guy that will take her in a toilet cubicle if I have to, and fuck her until she doesn’t even remember who her surgeon is.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MOLLY
Oh god, I feel like I’m on fire. Hugo’s body presses against my back, and I can feel every hard inch of him. A small voice in the back of my mind is screaming at me to stop being such a slut, but I can’t. This is what he does to me. He turns me into a wanton slut. I should feel embarrassed. I should step away, but I don’t and I can’t. We’re just dancing, it’s fine. The kind of dancing that has me clenching my thighs together and in dire need of a change of underwear. I lightly drag my nails across his neck, and over the short stubble of his jaw. He growls low in my ear and yanks me around to face him, his hand tightens in my hair, and my scalp screams in protest even as my heart hammers against my rib cage in excitement.
His eyes meet mine, and there’s this wild untameable fire in them that takes my breath away. His hand cups my jaw, and my skin prickles under his touch, making my entire body break out in goose bumps. There’s a pregnant pause, and it’s one of those moments where you know something is about to happen.
His lips twitch in a small smirk, before he moves, slamming his lips over mine in a possessive kiss. I kiss him back. I can’t help myself. My hands grab handfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer as his hand moves from my face, and grabs my arse, pulling my hips flush to his hard cock. The way he handles me is rough and unapologetic, and I love it. His tongue skims my bottom lip, and I moan into his mouth. I don’t know what it is about him, but he sets my mind free of all inhibitions and my body on fire. I want him, because the moments when I’m with him, I feel liberated.
The music of the club pulses around us, and yet it feels as though it’s just the two of us. I don’t even realise that I’m wrapping my leg around him until his fingers grip my thigh, which is just below his hip. His fingers dance along the hem of my dress as his teeth nip at my bottom lip.
“Unless you want me to fuck you right here on this dance floor, we need to stop.” He breathes raggedly against my lips. Even as he speaks the words, he never releases me.
I blink, and take stock of my position. I’m wrapped around him like a vine, pressing against him everywhere. I frown. What the hell am I doing? This is Hugo. Fuck.
I jump back away from him like I’ve been burned.
“Shit, um…” I try to think of something to say.
He leans in, speaking against my ear so I can hear him over the music. “We both know you want to turn tail and run Sweetness, so run.” I can hear the smile in his voice, but there’s something else, a certain resignation. He’s probably just gutted that I wouldn’t fuck him right here.
His eyes lock with mine and his usual easy smile pulls at his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I nod quickly and turn on my stiletto heel. He’s right, I do want to run. I need to run from everything that he represents. I need to get my head together without him infecting me with his sex rays or whatever that shit is that he projects. I like to think he has some kind of magical power over women, because then I’m not just some slutty bitch in heat, dry humping him in front of god knows how many people. Shit. I go to find George to tell him I’m leaving. I’m near the bar when I feel an arm loop through mine.
“Now that was a fucking kiss! Shit, what I wouldn’t give for a go at Hugo.” George gushes in my ear.
I turn to face him and release a long breath. “No, that was…I don’t know what that was. Anyway, I’m leaving.”
He laughs. “You’re such a prude Mole. Before you start with your one woman guilt trip, I want it noted that you’re just dating the doctor. No harm in dabbling.” He winks. Oh, god.
By the time I get home, I feel like the shittiest person alive and the guilt trip is in full swing.
Two days later, and I’m still freaking out. Hugo has called and texted relentlessly. He’s apologised, then told me I’m ridiculous, and even that he was just horny and hoping he could get in my pants. None of this changes the fact that I kissed him, and we’re supposed to be friends, and no I’m not with Alex, but the intention is there. But then, we’re friends, so perhaps it’s not a big deal, right? I mean, friends kiss sometimes. I’ve kissed Lilly and George too many times to count.
Although it’s fair to say that Lilly or George have never ever made me feel the way Hugo makes me feel. I groan as I slowly stir my cup of coffee. I don’t know why I let him kiss me. Things are great with Alex. Things are great with Hugo. Why do I have to blur the lines? It was the Prosecco. Must have been. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll blame that.
There’s a knock on the door and I hop up from my spot on the sofa to answer it, taking my chocolate spread covered toast with me. I swing the flat door open and come face to face with Hugo. It was only a matter of time, he’s not a ‘no’ kind of guy. I step back with a resigned sigh, allowing him into the flat. He walks in with his usual swagger. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a tight white t-shirt, with a black leather jacket over the top. His hair is as always, a mess. Even with the serious look on his face, no guy has a right to look that good. He’s like a venus fly trap. I feel sorry for the poor girls who get suckered into falling for that pretty face, only to get fucked and chucked within a matter of hours. Oh wait, that would be me, many times. Only I’m stupid enough to get fucked and chucked, vow never to sleep with him again, befriend him and then let him kiss me. So really, who the hell am I to pity anyone?
I don’t know what to say to him, so I go for totally ignoring the big pink fucking elephant in the room.
“You look good.” I say.
He raises an eyebrow at me and a small smirk pulls at his lips. He grabs my wrist and lifts it to take a bite of my toast. Even that small touch has my pulse fluttering nervously. “When do I ever not look good?” He mumbles around his mouthful.
I sigh. “You know, you make it really hard to like you sometimes.”
He laughs. “Sweetness, you can’t help but like me, no matter how much you hate it.” He’s so right. Too right.
He falls silent and presses his lips into a hard line. “Hugo…Look, I can’t…”
He rolls his eyes dramatically and moves past me into the kitchen, ignoring me. “Fuck me Molly, it was a kiss, get over it already. It’s not like I fucked you or anything.” No, but we both know that I would have let him fuck me. He takes the bread out of the bread bin and starts making himself some toast. Make yourself at home why don’t you?
“Hugo, you’re my friend, and then there’s Alex. I just think that maybe…”
He turns around and faces me again, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his muscular chest. “Maybe what? We shouldn’t be friends just because you drunkenly kissed me, and you’re sweet on the doctor. Come on Molly, we’re not fucking twelve.”
I scowl at
him. “I kissed you? You kissed me and you know it.”
He smiles. “Are we really going to argue the logistics of this, or are we going to get over it?” He asks.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Depends. Are you going to try and get me drunk and kiss me again?”
“Probably.” He shrugs unapologetically. The toast pops and he smears a thick layer of chocolate spread on it.
God, I wish I could find it in me to stay mad at him, or just not be friends with him, but I have a soft spot for him, and as weird as our friendship is, I would miss him if he weren’t around. God, what have I gotten myself into?
“Fine.” I huff. “But if you could attempt to keep that thing on a leash it would be appreciated.” I say pointing at his crotch.
He takes a bite of his toast. “Never.” He mumbles around his mouthful.
This is a pointless conversation. I sigh and go about cleaning up after him. He’s so bloody messy.
“So, did you just come over here to be a prick and steal my food, or did you actually have a purpose?”
“You forgot didn’t you?”
“Forgot what?” I ask.
“I feel so unloved.” He presses his hand to his chest, feigning offense. “You said you would hang out with me today.” He pouts.
I did say that, and I did remember, but what with the whole facial assault and my ignoring him, I didn’t exactly plan to see him today. “Fine, what are we doing?”
“We’re taking Gaz on a date.” He grins.
“You have met your dog right? Gary hates anything remotely social.” Hell, if it’s not sleeping or eating he’s not interested.
“Ah, it’ll be fine.” He says with a sly grin on his face. “Have you got all your girl shit? Can we go?”
“By girl shit, I’m assuming you mean my handbag.” I say, exasperated.
Well, the travelling arrangements are interesting. I end up sitting in the passenger seat with Gary in the foot well between my knees. I’m wearing a jumper dress, and he keeps trying to shove his nose up my skirt at every available opportunity. Hugo of course, finds this hilarious. Child.
“Your dog is gross.” I try to sound serious, but I’m laughing as I try to wrestle Gary’s massive head out from under my skirt.
“Hey, Gaz has impeccable taste in women. Don’t you Gaz? You should be flattered babe.” Flattered by the attentions of his dog.
In the end I give up and end up shoving Gary up against the door, whilst my knees end up crushed against the centre consol. Of course, without a skirt to try and shove his head under, he now tries to rest his chin on my lap. His disgusting, drool covered chin. He and Hugo are so well matched.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” I ask.
He revs the engine of the shouty car as he hits the fast lane of the motorway and floors it. “I told you, we’re taking Gaz out.”
“He doesn’t like doing anything except eating and sleeping!”
“He does like one other thing.” He smirks.
“Oh my fucking god. You got him a shag!” I laugh.
“Yep, because I’m the best daddy ever, aren’t I Gaz?” He reaches over my lap and pats the dogs head.
“Why would you bring me to this?! I don’t want to see Gary get his funk on. That’s like animal porn. That’s so wrong on so many levels.”
“It’s not like that. Gaz, as it turns out has superior breeding. So, I put him on this site. It’s like a dating site for dogs. You know, likes sleeping and long sessions licking his nuts. That sort of thing.” I laugh until my cheeks hurt. That is so cute. He actually wrote a dating profile for his dog. “Anyway, some chick wants to pay me five hundred quid just to let Gaz have at it.”
“That is brilliant!” I grin, wiping tears from my eyes.
“So now, I just have to take him on his date. He’s going to woo her with his moves, and hit a home run.” And then Hugo is going to high five his dog. I think a psychiatrist might call this projecting.
Speaking of which. “How’s the sex therapy going?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face.
“Well, apparently I use sex as an emotional outlet.” He manages not to crack for a few seconds, and I almost think he’s serious, but then he snorts. “What kind of fucking shit is that?” He laughs. “I told him that it’s an outlet alright, but there ain’t shit all emotion going into it.”
I know he’s only doing this to get out of his community service, but I actually do think he’s a sex addict, simply because there is no way one guy can need or want that much sex and not have some serious fucking issues. That said, I like to think I know Hugo pretty well, as does Theo. There is no skeleton hiding in his closet that I know of. There are no abusive parents, or heart breaker ex-girlfriends. If he was twenty, no-one would look twice at his behaviour. The problem is that he’s twenty nine, and yet he shows absolutely no desire to stop fucking around. What those therapists don’t understand though, is it’s not just sex. He has no desire to grow up. No desire to settle down in any way. I honestly think Hugo will party and fuck until he can party and fuck no more. I may be wrong, I mean look at Theo. He was almost as bad. All it takes is one person. I hope Hugo finds that person if she’s out there, but boy, will she have to be one ballsy bitch to take him on. I can’t think of any woman that would stick around long enough to see through his shit. And they would need to see through it, because underneath all the bravado, he’s actually a decent guy. When the shit hits the fan, Hugo does step up. He’s helped me so many times, and he asks for nothing in return, except maybe this odd friendship we have, but that’s okay.
So who knows, maybe he’s a sex addict. Either way, the idea of Hugo in therapy is just hilarious.
“That sounds like you made a lot of progress.”
He shrugs. “I thought it helped a bit, so I thought I’d test it out. You know, see if I’m a changed man. Fucked one of the chicks from the therapy. Didn’t work.” He shrugs and grins.
“You fucked another addict.” I snort.
“Yeah, turns out sex therapy is the best place to pick up chicks. I’ve been three times and every time I’ve gotten laid. They were hot too.” He tells me. “Except the last one. She was a bit on the chunky side. But, I’ll give it to her, she went like a fucking racehorse. Made me come like an elephant.” He shrugs.
I shake my head. No words.
We pull up outside a large set of electric gates.
“Oh, looks like she’s a posh bird Gaz.” Hugo says as he lowers the window and presses the button for the intercom.
“Hello.” A very upper class voice answers.
“Hey. I’m Hugo. Here to see Henrietta.”
There’s no answer, just the buzz of the gate unlatching and opening. He steers the car up the gravel driveway and in front of a big house with a water feature in the front, and two stone bulldogs either side of the front door.
I clip Gary’s lead on and encourage him to hop out of the car, which despite being extremely low to the ground, is apparently a lot of effort.
“Best limber up Gaz. Don’t want to strain anything.” Hugo pep talks him. Gary looks up at him, his tongue hanging out as he huffs and puffs like a train. Apparently all bulldogs do that. Surely if you get a dog, you want it to be relatively active. Gary is the total opposite of active.
The front door of the house opens and an older woman steps out. She’s wearing a bright pink jumper, and brown chords. Her hair is a wild perm of grey hair, and she has so much make up on, I’m not sure whether it’s making her wrinkled skin look better or worse.
Hugo glances at me and raises an eyebrow. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t give her a go.” I whisper under my breath. He elbows me in the ribs and I grunt, keeping a smile plastered on my face as the woman approaches.
“Hugo I assume?” She asks.
“Hey.” He says.
“Henrietta.” She introduces herself, but makes no effort to even look at me. Her eyes drop to Gary. “This is the dog?”
“Y
eah, this is Gary.” Hugo drawls.
“Gary?” She looks disgusted.
“Uh, yeah, he has some other fancy name too.” Hugo explains.
She proceeds to prod, poke and probe Gaz to within an inch of his life, including what appears to be a weighing of his nuts. I’m not quite sure where to look. This just seems wrong somehow. When she’s finished groping the dog, she stands up and turns on her heel.
“This way.” She gestures for us to follow as she walks us around the side of the house and through a gate. At the back of the house is what looks like a massive summer house. She opens the door, and the smell of dog just hits me.
I pull my sleeve down and use it to cover my nose and mouth. Hugo wrinkles his nose, but otherwise manages to look unaffected.
Inside the building are several kennels. There’s a pen to one side, with some puppies in it.
“Aw.” I gush. I can’t help it. I mean, who can resist puppies? Henrietta spares me a brief glance and then shows us to a kennel near the end.
“This is Delila. Her mother was a Crufts champion.” She announces proudly. I know what Crufts is, but seriously, a dog is a dog. In typical Gary fashion, he gets bored and decides to just lay down.
“He’s just reserving his energy.” Hugo says.
I turn away, trying not to laugh. This woman is obviously serious about her dogs, and here’s Hugo, writing dating profiles just to try and get Gaz a shag. I go over to the pen and crouch down, as a wall of puppies all clamber to put their little feet up on the bars. They are so damn cute with their little bellies.
“Your dog is overweight and in poor condition.” Henrietta says haughtily. “But he was bred by the Weston Stud. His lineage is very rare.”
“Don’t listen Gaz.” Hugo whisper shouts at him. “These toff girls always go for breeding over looks. It’s okay bud.” This time I have to turn away. My shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. Oh god.