by Jasmin Quinn
But they flew open as his hand circled her wrist and he yanked it off her pussy. “What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.
Olivia tried to free her wrist, but his grip was too tight. She gazed up at him. “Thinkin’ of you.”
His eyes darkened. “Need help?”
Olivia grinned. That was all the invitation he needed. He dropped to his knees on the carpet, then pulled her ass to the edge of the bed as he tucked her legs over his shoulders. She wrapped them around his head and his back as he buried his face in her pussy. His tongue touched everything, everywhere. His lips, kissing, sucking, his teeth raking, nibbling. It was too much and it took no time for her to come, her orgasm hitting her hard. He eased back a little, tongue still stroking her as she shuddered. Then he was back at her pussy, very gentle strokes of his tongue nursing her sensitive clit back up again.
“Hugo.” She tried to sit up. One large paw to her chest and a shove and she was flat on her back again.
“Hugo!” she said to the ceiling, then gasped “Fuck!” as he scraped his teeth, chomped her labia, brought her to the brink of ecstasy, then pulled away, flipping her over on to her belly, bringing her up to her knees and plunging his cock deep inside her.
“God, fuck, Hugo.” Was all she could muster as she tried to bring her fingers to her clit, but he caught her wrist.
“Nope,” he growled.
“Hugo!” She struggled to free herself then brought in her other hand. He leaned over her, his back on hers as he rutted. He wrapped his hands around hers, held her while he took her.
“You already had your orgasm, Blondie, my turn now.”
Fuck! “Fuck!”
He straightened up, dented her hips with his hands,
“Keep your hands on the bed. No touching ‘til I say.”
“You’re not the boss of me, Hugo,” she gasped and was rewarded with a sharp slap to her ass.
“No touching, Blondie. ‘til I say. Keep your hands on the bed.”
She did. She didn’t know why but she did, curling her fingers into the blankets. He was owning her, and it was hot. His mastery of her, so fucking scorching she felt herself building. He kept slamming into her, his thrusts getting more urgent, less steady. He came with a shout, splitting her right through to her core. All she could do was hang on. He slowed his thrusts as he pulled deep breaths into his lungs.
Olivia was so out of control she couldn’t stand it. Knowing that she turned him on this way, him fucking her like she was his sex slave and he owned her. Him not letting her touch herself. But she had to find the release and she reached her hand again to her pussy. He stopped it again.
“Wait until I say, Liv.” He was still inside her but kneeling on the bed. Still breathing hard, still holding her ass.
“Hugo, for fuck’s sake.”
He slapped her ass again. “Not the right words, Liv.”
“What?” She tried to turn to look at him, but he reached forward, wrapped his hand in her hair and yanked her head back, her face up.
“Not the right words!” he repeated, his voice a growl.
Not the right words? Olivia groped around for the right words. He was still inside her, still semi-hard. His other hand was rubbing her ass, fingers kneading into her flesh, bruising, a little painful.
She didn’t know the right words. What the fuck was this? Finally, she said, “Please, Hugo, just… please.”
He grunted, pulled out of her and dropped to his knees. She felt his mouth invade her from behind, stroking her clit, hard and aggressive and she snapped, her orgasm bolting through her, claiming her. “Fuck!” she cried. She didn’t know what else to say. Her legs lost feeling and she fell to the bed, still pulsing.
Hugo stood up and grinned. Huge, happy. Then before she had her senses back, he picked her up by the waist, tucked her under one arm and carried her to the bathroom. “Shower, dress. We gotta get on the road.”
When Olivia came out of the bathroom, cleaned up and fresh smelling, Hugo was sitting at the table in the only chair there was in the room. She stood in front of him a few feet back, watching him watching her. She was wearing her only other change of clothes. A short denim skirt and the sleeveless ribbed tank she slept in last night. She picked her fringed vest off the other bed and slid it on. On her feet she had her boots.
Hugo’s eyes roved over her, from the top of her head, to the boots on her feet. Slowly, cursorily, like he was committing her to memory in case she got lost in a crowd. He motioned to a Styrofoam cup of coffee sitting on the TV stand. “Got you a coffee. Drink up.”
She picked up the coffee, took a sip and then looked at Hugo with a small smile. It was exactly the way she liked it. One cream, two sugars. The man had an eye for details. He motioned to the end of the bed, the X-rated one. “Have a sit, Liv. We gotta have ourselves a serious conversation.”
“Am I gonna like what you’re gonna say?” Olivia asked nervously as she sat herself down close enough to Hugo that her knee bumped his.
“Not in the least.”
CHAPTER 18
Am I gonna like what you’re gonna say?
Olivia looked as nervous as a rabbit in the shadow of a coyote.
“Not in the least,” Hugo growled. They were about to have another fight. Last night had been grand. The fucking, her body, her responses to him. He couldn’t get enough of her. And then when he walked out of the shower this morning, found her laid out naked on the bed like a fucking Christmas gift from Hugh Hefner. Touching herself, telling him she was thinking of him. It sent him sideways.
He shouldn’t have touched her. Not yesterday, not last night, not this morning. He shouldn’t have let her sleep with him, curled up against his back like a kitten, her deep, even breaths warming the hollow between his shoulder blades.
He felt better this morning. Slept like a dead man last night after the fucking. Best feeling in the world waking up next to her. And he was right to let her shenanigans at the biker bar go until this morning. He was too tired last night. He didn’t mistreat women, not really, but he might have lost it on Olivia in his state. She was way too full of attitude.
He set his coffee on the table, leaned forward in his chair and rested his hand on her shapely thigh. He had a sudden urge to peek under her skirt, see her panties. Maybe take them off her, make her go without for the day. Just because. Her in the jeep beside him, without them. Make a fucking long drive seem a whole lot shorter if she was doing what she needed to do to keep the miles flying by. But maybe too soon in the relationship to get down to that kind of kink. He squeezed her thigh. “Yesterday won’t ever happen again. You understand?”
Olivia took a sip of her coffee, stared straight ahead, not looking at him. “Which part?”
Fuck. She wasn’t going to make this easy. His temper was rising at the memory. “The part where you walked into a biker bar, stuck your tongue down a Mexican’s throat and then dry-humped him in the alley.”
She swiveled her head and stared at him. She was pissed too. “I didn’t exactly enjoy his paws all over me or his slimy lips on mine, but we were dying of heat stroke sitting in your jeep. And you’re pissed at me? Maybe you should say thank you, you asshole.”
Hugo plucked the coffee from her hand, thumped it on the table beside his and pulled her up by her biceps, big hands circling her arms, steel bands forcing tears to her eyes. “We’re gonna start again, Olivia. With some ground rules.”
“Let go of me,” Olivia’s voice was low, angry, warning.
“Rule 1 – no name calling. Show me the same respect I’m showing you.”
Olivia bared her teeth as she gave a futile shove at his chest with her hands. “Respect? Respect? It’s a fucking double-standard telling me I can’t do what I do best to move things along. I’ve got a target on my back and I don’t have time to play your little games with the Mexican cartel.”
“Rule 2 – you don’t touch, look at, kiss, dry hump or do anything else you do to get what you need, unless you’re doing
it to me.” He tightened his grip on her arms.
“And besides that.” Olivia was standing toe to toe with him, her face furious, her eyes boring into his. “I’m paying you for your services. You’re actually working for me, are you not? Why the fuck are we doing everything your way?”
Hugo had the urge to shake her, did a little bit, then dropped her arms, flipped her around so her back was against his chest and threw her on the bed, dropping his body on tops of hers. He shoved her arms over her head, wrapped one of his paws around her wrists, then tangled his fingers into her hair with his other hand, yanking her head back, immobilizing her. “We’re doing things my way because I’m bigger than you, stronger than you and have a whole lot more fucking common sense than you!” He was beyond pissed now. “Paying me in fucks doesn’t make you my boss, Blondie.”
“Get off me, you fuck.” Olivia tried to struggle under him, but it was futile. He was big, he was heavy and he’d figured out how to keep her from thrashing around. He yanked her hair a little harder, yanked her head back further.
“Rule number 1!” he roared. “No name calling! You fucking show me respect.” He heard her gasp at his roughness. He didn’t really want to make her afraid of him, but he had to get her to the point where she would follow his lead and not go off on her own little tangents. She was too much of a loose cannon. He had to find a way to rein her in.
“Goddamn you!” she said, still angry but he heard the little break in her voice. He was about to break it further. Felt like a jackass, knew it was true, said it anyway.
“I don’t need your fucks, Liv. You know that. I want a woman, all I gotta do is find a bar and look around.”
She stiffened under him, stilled like she’d been flash frozen. Hurt like he intended.
“I’m helping you out as a favour to Creed.” Not entirely a lie. Hugo’s nose wouldn’t grow much. “You’re not irresistible.”
And that was it, he broke her. He let her wrists and hair go and climbed off the bed. She folded her arms under her face, pillowing it. He saw her shoulders shaking. He’d made her cry. He reached for his coffee and took a sip as he watched her crumble. If it would have been the right thing to do, he’d have gone to her, held her, said he was sorry, maybe even told her he loved her.
But it wasn’t. The right thing to do was to keep her out of the line of fire. She had a 20-million-dollar price tag on her pretty blonde head and Hugo was the only thing standing between her and all the dangerous possibilities.
CHAPTER 19
Mack Welling was in Vancouver. He wasn’t a fan of Vancouver. Big, noisy, full of people and cars. Everywhere you went. But he had his orders from Jackman. Find Hugo Marsden. He’d been on the phone with the little Disappearist. She was such a fucking wet dream, he thought as his mind replayed the details of the conversation. Married now, off-limits. Had always been off limits with all those secrets inside her. Mack had enough good sense to know that Nika and he would be ill-matched. It didn’t stop him from thinking about her.
She’d been on the call with the boss, her sweet light voice contrasting with Jackman’s deep Russian rumble. She’d tracked Olivia West out of Vegas – left the same time Hugo Marsden had. They’d been seen together at the Mirage. Neither of them blended well. Hugo looked like a lumberjack on steroids, Olivia West was a blonde bombshell straight out of American Graffiti. Jackman wanted Olivia. No reason given, just pick her up, hide her well and hang on to her. Simple, except for the company she was keeping.
Mack knew Hugo. Everyone in the circles they ran in knew Hugo. That was the problem. Hugo was what you’d call an independent contractor. Had no allegiances but at the same time had no enemies. Got a job? Want it done quickly and efficiently? Hugo was your guy. He charged outrageous prices for the smallest of things. In fact, sometimes Mack thought that the smaller the job, the higher the price. Hugo liked the game.
Mack was at the False Creek Fisherman’s Wharf Marina, staring at Hugo’s big fucking boat, a 50ft Sea Ray 510 Sundancer. Nice if you liked the water. Mack did not. Full-blooded Aussie from Alice Springs, dead in the middle of the continent. Didn’t like the ocean, didn’t trust it, but this would be where Hugo would come once he was back in British Columbia. It didn’t make sense that Mack go to Hugo. He already knew that if Hugo left Vegas, he was coming to Vancouver. Coming home. All Mack had to do was sit back and wait. He didn’t know how long a wait it would be but thought perhaps a little time would help him figure out how the hell he was going to extract Olivia West from Hugo Marsden’s clutches.
CHAPTER 20
Hugo and Olivia were on the road again. It was the quietest check-out ever. Olivia was hurt to the core with what he said to her. Straight to the core. He didn’t have to be so brutal. All he had to do was ask and she would have said okay. She heard Gwen’s voice in her head calling bullshit. Olivia, you don’t bend over for anyone. Not entirely true, apparently. In the same breath, Gwen would also say that common sense is a waste of time and no fun, either.
Half-hour into the drive, Olivia looked over at Hugo. “You’re a prick, you know that, don’t you?”
“Rule 1, Liv.” His voice was a growl, his tone full of meaning.
Olivia crossed her arms and slammed her back against the seat. “My mom says rules are meant to be broken. After all, they started out broken before the rule got made. Otherwise there’d be no cause for a rule.”
“Your mom’s a real class act.”
“Rule number 3,” Olivia said under her breath, but loud enough for Hugo to hear. “No insulting the family.”
Hugo kept his eyes on the road but as Olivia glanced at him, she could see his jaw working and the strain in his knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel. He was still pissed with her, maybe more so because she wasn’t liking the way he was talking to her and wasn’t hesitating to tell him so. Silence stretched between them for a few more miles, then Hugo said, “Liv. How about we stop at the next town, the next open bar. I’ll go pick myself up a pretty little thing, haul her out to the alley and have a happy little fuck.”
“I wasn’t going to fuck him,” Olivia muttered, but she had to concede his point. She looked down at her hands, at the fingers that she was twining together. “So what you’re saying is you don’t want me kissing other boys?”
She glanced up at him, at his profile, his strong nose, whiskered jaw. A thrill snaked through her, nudging her pussy, causing a little flood.
“That’s what I’m saying, Olivia.” He glanced over at her briefly, his grey eyes serious and full of intent.
She looked forward. “Okay, I won’t do it again.” It was nice that he wanted her for himself, nice that it mattered to him.
But the asshole couldn’t just take her concession and run with it. No, he had to take it a step further. He didn’t know where the fucking line was either. “No, you won’t.”
“Fuck,” Olivia said under her breath. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the passenger window.
Eleven hours later they were in Boise, Idaho. Longest fucking trip ever.
CHAPTER 21
Hugo pulled into a Best Western. The room was not too bad. Only one bed this time. Didn’t matter, unless Olivia was still that pissed at him. But it still didn’t matter. He knew exactly how to kiss the pissiness out of her. He thought about her anger, her understanding that she wouldn’t like him to do to other women what she had done to Ruiz. Got through to her at least, and she had been willing to concede until he said, “No you won’t.”
He wasn’t sorry he said it because it needed to be said. She needed to understand that there were some lines she couldn’t cross with him. Maybe he needed to tell her that he would kill the next man who laid hands on her, even if she did the touching first. Maybe she needed to understand that she was his now.
The thing he couldn’t tell her because he was still trying to figure it out himself, the thing that would speak to her heart more than his possessiveness, was the fear he felt when she walked into that
bar, the absolute terror that hammered through him and almost crippled him. Fear, he knew it, felt it, sometimes even embraced it. But it wasn’t something that ever paralyzed him or stopped him from doing what needed to be done. But fear for Olivia, fear of losing her made him immobile, it was that intense.
But he couldn’t tell her that, though he didn’t know why. Maybe because if he shared it, it would be acknowledging out loud what he already knew inside. That this was the woman. The one he’d been looking for all his life.
He already asked her to marry him, twice. Already decided it was going to happen sooner or later. He didn’t care what the rest of his life held, but like everything he did, this was the same. He lived his life on his terms, Olivia was going to be part of that. He wasn’t ready to tell her he loved her, but he knew he did. Or thought he knew. But those words had rolled right off his tongue too often, too easily to women who knew he was full of shit. When he said them to Olivia, he wanted her to fully understand how serious he was and he wanted to hear her say them back.
They dropped their packs in the room and headed for the pub. They hadn’t eaten much during the drive. Just grabbed a hot dog when they stopped for gas. He was ready for a side of beef. He wondered what weird shit she was going to order.
When they entered the pub, the other diners glanced up. That’s what people did when someone walked into a room. That wasn’t the problem, the problem was that the eyes stayed up. Hugo understood why. He drew attention most of the time by his sheer size, his don’t-give-a-fuck attitude, his easy charm. But fuck, with Olivia on his arm, they were like Hollywood royalty. Kind of hard to keep your head down and off the grid when you were so memorable.
