Ruined (4 page)

“It’s fine. I will have to find other ways to entertain myself.” George huffs dramatically.

“Goodbye George.” I can hear him asking if I’m banging someone, before I swipe the red button.

“I took Georges car, and apparently he’s now drunk and wants everyone to try his new flavoured condoms, which are in the glove box.”

He says nothing, but his lips kick up in a small smirk, and it draws my eyes straight to his mouth. I bite my lip, trying desperately to drag my mind out of the gutter, but all I can think of is dragging my nails down his back, whilst he fucks me.

“Molly?” I blink.

“Sorry, what?”

He smiles shyly. “Do you want some more wine?” He’s holding the bottle up. I shouldn’t because the more I drink the more horny I get, but I let him top up my glass, because I really need some bloody wine right now.

He follows me through into the living room, and I take a seat on the sofa, curling my legs up underneath me. He drops onto the sofa next to me, his frame seeming to overflow, even on our massive corner sofa.

He takes a gulp of wine, and I watch his Adam apple bob as he swallows. Damn, why is that so hot? He smiles at me, and reaches his hand out to rest on my thigh. I swear my heart rate hitches just from the simple touch.

“So, how is work going?” I ask quickly, trying to cover my breathlessness. We chat for a little while about his work. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to do something so worthwhile with your life. I’m envious. I wish I had that much purpose in life, rather than working in fashion. I mean really? God knows what he sees in me.

“So you’re trying to become an editor?” He asks, his eyes fixed on mine. His hand hasn’t left my thigh, and I can practically feel my skin tingling.

I nod. “Yep.”

“That sounds like a stressful job.” He murmurs.

I laugh. “What more stressful than putting people’s bones back together.”

“I guess I see what I do as a hands on job. I have my job to do, and as long as I do it, it’s fine. An editor…I just can’t imagine what it’s like to have to keep all those people in check, and running smoothly.”

I smile. I can totally see why he would hate that. He’s self-contained, almost quiet.

“Okay, enough talk about work.” I say. I mean to change the subject, but I find myself getting up. I lean down in front of him and press my lips to his without warning. His lips are soft and warm, his touch gentle and attentive. His big palm comes up to cup my face and I part my lips, waiting for him to dive into my mouth, but he doesn’t. His tongue gently brushes against my bottom lip, making me crave it on me, everywhere. Before I’ve even registered what I’m doing, I’m straddling him, my knees sinking into the sofa cushions. My fingers inch towards his hair, as I thrust my tongue into his mouth. Fuck, he tastes good, like crisp wine and spice.

He groans into my mouth, his hands drifting to my thighs. His fingers move upward, oh so slowly. My breath hitches as he moves higher. Then suddenly he stops, and places his hands on my waist. There’s a tense moment where I wait to see what he’ll do. Will he throw me on the sofa and rip my knickers off? Slide them to the side right here and fuck me senseless? My mind goes wild with possibilities, but then he pushes me away, holding me still. His breath is ragged as his eyes lock onto mine. I can’t even find it in me to look embarrassed. I’m horny, and I want him.

“Molly.” He breathes.

“Alex.”

“I think…”

“Don’t think.” I cut him off.

“You’re tipsy, and I won’t take advantage of you.” Ah shit, he really is good. I want him to take advantage of me.

“I’m not tipsy.” I lie. He tilts his head slightly as a smile creeps onto his lips. “Okay, so maybe a little. Not enough that I wouldn’t want this anyway.” I sound whiny even to my own ears.

There’s a long pause as he cups my face again, that gorgeous smile still etched onto his lips. “You really are beautiful Molly, and I really like you. I’m not going anywhere, there’s no hurry.” Kill me now. “I just…I’ve rushed into these things before, and it hasn’t ended well. I don’t want to ruin things with us. I want to take my time with you. I like you.” He smiles softly, and he looks so damn cute. How the fuck am I supposed to say no to that? I want to. Believe me. I want to tell him to go fuck his slow. I want him, and there is only so much a girl can take.

“You do know that there is such a thing as too noble?” His lips pull up on one side. “And that not many would turn this down?” I stab my finger into my chest. That’s not meant to sound big headed, but come on. I’m straddling his lap for Christ sake. My dress is hitched up, exposing my thighs, and my chest is pretty much level with his face, not that my chest is worth much…the thighs though…yeah, the thighs are just right there.

“I do know that. I also know that none of those guys that said yes are here right now, and I am. I don’t want to be another passing infatuation for you, Molly.” He tells me.

I smile and brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “You’re not.” I’m just fucking horny! I lean in and press a very chaste kiss on his lips.

I get off him, and stand in front of him. “Ugh. Are you sure you’re not gay or something?”

His eyes flick down to his crotch, where there’s a pretty obvious bulge in his trousers. “Don’t think so.” Damn, that’s a big bulge. I turn my back and walk away into the kitchen, before I go against his wishes and get a bit rapey.

I wake up the next morning feeling grouchy and agitated. Alex stayed and we watched a film last night. He left quite late, after refusing to stay the night. Apparently I can’t be trusted. Seriously, this is major role reversal. Surely he’s supposed to be the one trying to get me into bed, and I should be the one who doesn’t trust his wandering hands?

I know he wants me. I sometimes catch him looking at me, with that sexy little smile on his face. He’s just so, controlled, subtle, saintly. Take your pick. I can’t remember the last time I went out with a guy like him. I’ve had my fair share of boyfriends…okay, so quite a lot.

I’ll admit that I’m a romanticist. I think there is a perfect match out there for everyone, you just have to find them. I’ve had many whirlwind romances. Some sweet, and some down-right dirty. I’ve been with a tattoo artist on one extreme, and a biochemist on the other. As soon as I realise that they’re not the one, I move on, because life is short, and there’s no point in staying with someone who you know you won’t be with long term. I have loved more times than most people, but I have never found ‘the’ love. You know, that desperate clawing need to be with someone. The kind of love that leaves you utterly broken once it’s gone. The kind of love Lilly and Theo have. So, regardless of whether I loved them or not, I have always moved on.

The only guy I ever struggled to walk away from was Hugo. Christ, that wasn’t even remotely close to love. It was sex. Hot, dirty, fucking amazing sex. For some reason though, he had more of a hold over me than any other, even the guys I loved, or thought I loved.

I like to think it’s a simple case of wanting what you can’t have. We always want the unattainable, and to me Hugo was always unattainable, because he would never want me. He would want sex with me, but never actually want
me
. I never really wanted him, I just wanted him to want me. The human mind is warped, what can I say?

Frustrated, I drag myself out of bed, and throw on my running gear. It’s Saturday, and I should be sleeping in, but instead I’m wide awake.

I close my bedroom door, and make my way to the kitchen where I find George, face down on the granite work top of the breakfast bar.

“Um, it’s a bit early for you isn’t it?” It’s actually eight thirty, but for George that’s stupid early.

He groans and lifts his head to look at me. He does not look good. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his eyes are bloodshot.

“I forgot I have an audition this morning.” He moans. “I should not have drunk two fucking bottles of wine.” He puts his head back down on the bar, his cheek pressed to the surface as he watches me take some juice from the fridge.

“You’re going to an audition looking like that?” I ask. It’s one thing to have to go to work with a hangover, it is quite another to have to spin and jump around in a dance audition. “Because you look like shit.” I snort.

He lifts his hand, brandishing his middle finger at me. I laugh, as he groans and squints. “You’re mean this morning. I thought you’d be chirpy today after your night with McSteamy.” He mumbles.

“Sore subject.” I huff.

He chuckles. “Holy shit Mole, you got turned down?”

“He’s just very…chivalrous.” I explain.

“And he wants to treat you like a lady, whilst you want to be fucked like a dirty whore.”

“George! No…” I start, but he cuts me off.

He laughs. “Cut the shit Mole. I know under all that bullshit you’re a dirty bitch. I wouldn’t be friends with you if you weren’t.”

With that, he gets up and half walks, half staggers to his room. Arse.

I need to go for a run.

CHAPTER THREE

HUGO

“My name is Stacey, and I’m a sex addict.” Stacey is fine. I’d fuck Stacey seven ways to Sunday. Sex addiction? Shit, she’s like a walking fucking addiction right there. She has this thick Eastern European accent that makes her sound like a dirty porn star. Her skirt is seriously short, and her tits are just…right there. I can just imagine shoving my cock between them for an epic tittie fuck. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen street hookers with more class. I’ve never been a classy kind of guy though. 

Her eyes flick toward me as she talks about her fucked up sex life, and how many faceless men she’s slept with. She licks her lips. Yeah, she wants to add me to the list, and I’m all too happy to oblige.

“Hugo.” A voice interrupts. I frown and reluctantly turn toward the sound of my name. I miss the sight of those magnificent tits already.

“Yeah.” I say to the counsellor currently scowling at me. Busted.

“Would you like to speak?” He asks.

“What do you want me to say?” I grumble. Seriously? Why would anyone willingly come to this shit?

“Tell us about yourself and your addiction.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Fine. I’m Hugo. I like to fuck, a lot.” There, that pretty much sums it up doesn’t it?

“Tell us the extent of your addiction.” I still don’t like that word. Addiction. It makes it seem as though I have a problem, and I don’t. A problem is something that’s disruptive to your life. I fucking love my life. I love women, and I love sex.

Fuck it, if he wants all the details. “I fuck several women a week, sometimes more than one a day.” I shrug. The guy across from me looks at me with wide eyes. “What, you guys don’t?” Hell no they fucking don’t. These guys are the weirdos that have to wank twenty times a day, because they have an ‘addiction’.

The counsellor steps in with that annoying as shit voice of his. “This shows a need for sex. Tell us Hugo, what do you think you need, that sex gives you?”

I laugh. He doesn’t. “Oh wait, you’re serious?” He nods. “Shit man, you are not doing it right. I have a card for this fucking amazing hooker, honestly, she will make you come like a fifteen year old having his first wank.”

Stacey laughs, and then puts her hand over her mouth to cover it. The counsellor has gone an odd shade of purple. “Nathan.” He says moving on to the next guy. Stacey smiles at me. I shrug and wink at her. Yep, she so wants a piece of Rambo action.

“Oh, fuck yes. Fuck me harder.” Turns out Stacey is quite the fucking addict. I like a girl who knows what she’s doing. I didn’t even make it out of the building, before she gave me ‘the eye’.

I have her bent over one of the shelves in a supply room, that tiny skirt hiked up over her hips. She wasn’t even wearing any underwear. My kind of girl.

My thighs are slapping against her arse cheeks as I fuck her hard. I’m gripping her hip with one hand, hard enough to bruise. My other hand is pressed against her pussy as I stroke her clit.

“Oh god, yes!” She screams. She reaches back and drags her nails down my thighs as her pussy clamps down on my cock. Fuck!

I clench my jaw as heat rushes down my spine and my balls explode as I come inside her. I stay still for a second, breathing hard.

I pull out of her, and pull off the jonny, because, yes, sometimes I can have half a fucking brain. I’m not about to go in bareback, with a girl who just admitted to a room full of people that she’s a dirty slut. I like my dick as it is, attached to my body.

Plus, I just watched Theo go through a fucking baby scare with some one night stand. No fucking thank you.

She straightens her skirt and flashes me a sexy grin. “Not bad.” She says, before she turns and leaves the room. No asking for a number, no bullshit.

I was wrong, fuck strip clubs, sex counselling is the place to meet dirty women. Dirty women with daddy issues, who like to be used. Fuck yeah!

Technically it’s helping my addiction, because I’m blowing my load, which means I now won’t
need
sex until tomorrow. That’s not to say it won’t be offered before. I’m an opportunist.

When I get home, Gaz, my bulldog, has left a massive fucking turd on the cream rug. There’s an entire apartment of wooden flooring, and yet he shits on the rug! I’m almost sick when I open the door. Jesus, what the fuck does that dog eat? The dirty bastard is nowhere to be found. I stalk through the apartment, and push open the bedroom door. He’s there, on my bed, on his back, legs everywhere, with his enormous nut sack sitting there like a fucking trophy. He’s snoring like a bloody chain saw.

“Gaz!” I shout at him. Nothing. Fuck my life. I shove him, until he chokes and wakes up. He rolls onto his side and glances at me, not an ounce of fucking shame to be found.

“You shat on the rug!” He grunts and slides off the edge of the bed, dragging his nuts across the sheets as he goes. I should mention, that the reason I have Gary is because he got kicked out of his last house…because he has a habit of jizzing on everything. At the time I felt sorry for him, I mean, it happens to the best of us, and with gnads like his… Now though…let’s just say, there’s an awful lot of crusty upholstery going on around here.