by LP Lovell
“He does love you in his own way.” Lilly says, her big green eyes full of concern.
I take another gulp of my wine. “He said he will never love me. It’s okay though. I should have known better. You warned me Lill’s.” I laugh humourlessly. “How many times have I given you ‘sensible’ advice? Shame I can’t follow it myself.”
She smiles sympathetically. “No-one ever does. Hell, I didn’t. What is it with us and unsuitable men?”
“Hugo redefines unsuitable.”
“There isn’t even a word for Hugo.” She agrees.
“Just, why? Why him? I must either be fucking stupid, or completely masochistic.” I groan.
“You’re human Molly. And you’re good, too good. You see the best in people always. It’s what makes you so awesome.” She smiles, rubbing her hand over my arm.
“He said something similar. He said that I want to see good that isn’t there. God that’s so desperately bloody sad. I need another drink.” I huff.
“Okay, drink I can do.” She hops up off the sofa, and goes into the kitchen. When she comes back she’s holding a bottle of raspberry Belvedere. Good, I need something strong right now.
The next few days pass slowly. Time always seems to pass slowly when you’re miserable. It’s like life is just mocking you. Amongst all the feelings swirling around me right now, guilt is very much at the fore front.
I’ve been avoiding Alex for the past three nights, making up excuses as to why I can’t see him. The problem is that I can’t look at him and not compare him to Hugo. I should really talk to him. I should tell him that I love Hugo. I should tell him that he could do better, but I’m too selfish. I love him. It may not be the same as the way I love Hugo, but I do love him, a lot. I can’t bear to lose him right now. I know that makes me a horrible person. I can’t face him. I feel like he’ll take one look at me and see what a vile individual I really am. Heartbreak is hard enough to deal with, but paired with the guilt and the self-hatred…I’m drowning under the weight of it all. I just want everything to disappear.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HUGO
I tilt the bottle of Grey Goose back and take three long swallows. I then take a long drag of the joint that I bought off some kid outside the club. I just need to be fucking wasted right now. I don’t want to think, I don’t want to feel. I just want to get fucked up. The intercom buzzes loudly. I groan and stagger to the door to get it.
“Hugo.” The husky female voice purrs. I buzz her in without saying a word, and stagger back to the sofa.
I hear her push the door open, and the clicking of her high heels across the wooden flooring. She saunters into view, all long legs and long blonde hair. Elaina. She’s one of the best hookers I’ve ever had, although I haven’t used her for a while. She’s so good, she’s a little addictive. At ten grand a night, she was costing me a fucking fortune.
I have absolutely no shame about using a hooker. Hookers are just quality assurance. Like anything in life, you get what you pay for.
“You look worse for wear.” She says in that sexy as fuck voice of hers. Elaina was made for sex, her body, her voice, everything about her makes a man hard in seconds.
“You look over-dressed.” I say, taking another drag of the joint.
She shrugs and reaches around to unzip her dress. It falls to the floor, revealing her flat stomach and perky tits. She’s wearing white lace underwear, and it just screams innocence, which is fucking irony at it’s very best. I hold out the joint to her and she takes it. She places it between her full lips and sucks on it in a way that is nothing short of fucking perfection. She doesn’t hand it back to me, but saunters forward, swaying those full hips with every stride, and cloud of smoke billowing around her.
When she reaches the sofa, she flicks her hair over one shoulder and straddles me, a knee on either side of me, her knickers level with my face. The drinking, the smoking, this position…my mind flashes to when Molly had me in this exact same position only three weeks ago. I reach out and grab her around the waist. Her skin is soft and warm under my fingers. I cup her full tits, but it feels wrong. My mind is trying to break through the stoned fog, comparing, always comparing everything to her.
“Get on your knees.” I growl.
Her lips kick up slightly as she obliges, sliding off the sofa between my knees. I stand up and unfasten my belt and fly, pulling my trousers past my hips. She smiles wide as my erection becomes level with her face. She looks up at me through her lashes, her big blue eyes portraying an innocence that I know she doesn’t possess. This is what makes her so good. No-one wants a whore who is clearly a whore. It takes the fun out of it. She grips me around the backs of my thighs, her nails digging into my skin. She places a gentle kiss on my dick, and flicks her tongue over my bell end. When she gets no reaction, she goes in for the kill sucking my dick into her mouth, until it touches the back of her throat. My hand flies to her head, holding her in place as she sucks on my cock. She pulls back slowly, and I swear to fucking god, the girl could suck a golf ball through a garden hose. One of her hands leaves my thigh and cups my balls massaging gently. I watch as her blonde head bobs up and down over my cock. I’m telling myself that the reason I called Elaina is because she’s good, but I know that the reason I called Elaina is because she looks just like Molly, hell, they could be fucking sisters. With her hair over her face like this, she might as well be Molly.
Seconds later, I’m reminded that she is definitely not Molly. She pulls away, and sucks her index finger into her mouth, before pulling it out, slowly and seductively. She then goes back to sucking my cock like the pro that she is. I feel her cup my balls and then move further back, her fingers teasing and caressing. Her finger brushes against my arsehole, and my cock twitches in excitement. I know exactly what she’s going to do, and I know how fucking good it’s going to feel. She teases again, before pushing just the tip of her finger in my arse. She twirls her tongue across the head of my cock, and fists the base with her free hand. Everything starts building, her finger works just a little deeper, and she sucks me even harder.
Her hand works up and down my length, and her tongue swirls and flicks continuously. She pushes her finger fully inside me at the same time as she slams her mouth down all the way, deep throating me. I release a hoarse shout as I come like a fucking bull, wave after wave, and she swallows everything I give her. She pulls her finger out of my arse, and I whimper slightly, as my body trembles again.
She flashes me a seductive grin, and licks her lips. Innocent my fucking arse, literally. I collapse back onto the sofa, my muscles shaking and twitching like I’m having some kind of fit. She stays where she is, looking totally unfazed. Her lipstick hasn’t even smudged. If she wasn’t a whore this would be extremely embarrassing.
“You done already, baby?” She coo’s at me, he lips pouting, like I’ve just ruined her fun. I have a moment, a brief moment of resentment, where I wonder what the fuck I’m doing. Why the hell am I here with a hooker I don’t give a shit about? Fuck that.
I manage to heave myself upright from my slumped position on the sofa. I reach over her shoulder and grab the bottle of Grey Goose, and take several deep gulps.
“Get naked, and bend over the arm of the sofa.” I tell her, throwing the now empty bottle of Goose on the floor. She shrugs and stands up, taking several steps back. She strips her underwear, seductively removing the scraps of lace, but leaving the heels on.
She flashes me a smile over her shoulder and moves to the end of the sofa, bending over the arm as instructed. I stand and follow her, watching as her smooth back bows upward. Her tiny waist flares out to her full hips and tight arse. I tease my fingers over her spine gently, and she breaks out in goose bumps. I feel my cock start to stir as I run my hands over those firm arse cheeks. I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. My jeans and boxers soon follow.
I drag my fingers slowly over the crease of her arse and between her legs. She trembles slightly as I teas
e my index finger over her pussy. She’s wet, ready, willing. My mind is foggy, and my vision is slightly blurred. From this angle, I swear, she could be Molly. You couldn’t tell them apart. My cock hardens at the thought of Molly bent over this sofa. My mind flashes through all the ways that I would love to fuck her, to make her come and have her screaming my name.
I push my finger inside her and she gasps, her hips squirming back against my hand. I grip her hip, stilling her movements.
“You fucking wait for it.” I growl. She stills and I smile.
I add another finger, pushing it inside her tight pussy. She moans, throwing her head forward. Her long blonde hair falls around her shoulders. I pump my fingers in and out of her slowly, and she moans in rhythm to my movements. Only when she’s wet and clenching around me, do I pull out of her. I step up behind her, pressing my now rigid cock against the crack of her arse.
“Do you want my cock, sweetness?” I grate out.
She nods. “Yes.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. I grab a handful of her hair, pulling her head back forcefully.
“What was that?”
“Yes.” She says, louder this time.
I kick her legs apart wider, and keep a hold of her hair, so that her back is bowed up toward me. I fist my cock, pumping it once, twice, and guide myself into her. Her pussy is so hot, and wet. I drive into her in one thrust. She pushes back against me, and I groan as my sensitive cock hits home. I watch as I pull out of her and push back in. The sight of us moving together has my cock hardening even more. I feel like I need to burst out of my skin.
“Harder.” She pleads. I yank her hair back, making her head tilt to the side. I lean forward until my chest is pressed against her shoulder blades, and my lips are at the nape of her neck. I graze my teeth at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, biting down as I slam into her, balls deep.
“Oh god, yes.” She purrs.
“You like that, sweetness?” I whisper against her ear.
“Mmmm.” She mumbles. I pull back again, and drive forward even harder.
Her moans build, and her body tightens. I keep hold of her hair with one hand and grip her hip with the other hand, leveraging against her. There’s nothing romantic about this, it’s brutal and primal and so fucking good. She’s moaning my name over and over. I love fucking her like this. I love everything about her. She’s fucking perfect. My balls tighten as tingles start to creep over my skin. Her pussy clenches down on my cock, fisting me in a vice like grip. I come, hard, and she pushes back against me, riding my cock the whole time.
“Yes, baby. Fucking ride me!” I shout as she my balls explode inside her.
My body slumps forward, and I rest my forehead against the nape of her neck, breathing heavily. I straighten, and stagger backwards, pulling out of her. My head is spinning violently, and the combination of drink, weed and sex has me barely able to stand. She turns around, and I narrow my eyes, trying to focus on her face. Elaina. It’s Elaina. Of course it is. Fuck. My mind is fucked.
“You know you’ve always been my favourite client, Hugo.” She says with a wry smile.
I move away from her, and go to an abstract picture hanging on the wall. “I bet you say that to all the boys.” I say dryly. I push the painting, and slide it across the wall. Behind it is my safe. I type in the combination and it beeps as the lock releases.
“No-one fucks like you do. I’d almost do it for free, but why would I, when I can get paid and get fucked.”
I take a wad of cash out of the safe, and throw it across the room at her. She catches it easily, and shoves it into her designer handbag on the coffee table. Elaina knows the drill. She’s been paid, so she leaves. She’s fastening her bra when she decides to do something that a whore should never do, ask questions.
“So, who is she?”
“What?” I ask impatiently.
“Who’s the girl? Come on Hugo. You’re wasted, and you’ve never called me Sweetness before, never called me baby before. You don’t do endearing or cute, so I can only assume you were thinking of someone else.” She steps into her dress and fastens the zip.
“Just get out.” I growl.
She shrugs. “Sorry. Didn’t realise it was a sore point.”
“I wouldn’t be fucking you if it wasn’t would I?” I snap. “You can see yourself out.” I need sleep. I can barely stand up. My body and mind are exhausted, which is exactly how I want them. Tomorrow I’ll wake up, and I’ll have that horrible fucking feeling in my chest again, and I’ll have to do this all over again. My life has become an exhausting race to get fucked up quicker than the day before, and to outrun my own mind. It’s brutal.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MOLLY
I check my reflection in the mirror, looking closely to make sure the bags under my eyes aren’t visible through the half bottle of concealer I’m wearing. This week has been rough. My heart and my liver have taken a battering. Lilly has been her ever loyal self, ready with a shoulder to cry on and vodka in hand.
I’m done though. It’s time to get my shit together. Life must go on as they say.
I smooth my dress down, and slap on a coat of lip gloss. I’m going to Alex’s flat for dinner tonight. He sent me an ominous text that said he needs to talk to me. That’s never good. I suppose if he’s going to break up with me, then I’d best get all the heartbreak over within one week.
Day four post Hugo, I could no longer keep him at bay. I had to see him, and it made me feel like the worlds shittiest person. He took one look at me, asked me what was wrong, and that was it. The flood gates open, and I cried.
He looked so shocked, he didn’t know what to do, but then, in true Alex fashion, he held me. He never pushed me to tell him why I was a hysterical mess, just offered his unending strength. Of course, this just made me cry harder. I’ve never felt so awful in my life. I cried because Hugo will never love me. I cried because I love Alex, and I know that what I’m doing is beyond horrible. Most of all though I cried because I am being eaten alive by the most poisonous self-hatred. I used him. I used him because he’s my safe place, and he makes me feel like everything will be okay. He’s warm and reassuring. Hugo broke a little piece of me, and the wounded animal in me wants to cling to Alex’s warmth. I let him hold me, and make me feel better, even though he had no idea what he was doing.
Tonight I am going to go and see Alex, and I am going to forget about Hugo. Alex wants me, Hugo doesn’t. If I stop and rationally think it through, I know that Hugo was never really an option. We’re horrible together. He winds me up to the point of wanting to kill him, and I…I will never be enough for Hugo. He needs the parties and the hookers. That’s what makes him happy.
I drive to Alex’s flat, and ring the buzzer. I fiddle with my hair nervously as I wait for him to open the door. God, he must think I’m a total psycho.
I hear the latch click off the door, and it swings open. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and an old band t-shirt, which stretches across his thick muscles.
“Hey.” He flashes me a reassuring smile.
“Hey.” I respond quietly.
He takes my hand, pulling me into the flat, and up against his solid chest. “I missed you.” He breathes against my lips. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me close to him as he presses his lips against my forehead. Everything in me eases as warmth engulfs me. I press my palms flat against his chest and breathe in the familiar scent of his after shave.
“You feeling better today?” He asks. He’s polite, but I hear what he doesn’t say. Are you going to have another mental breakdown, because I might need a drink first.
I huff a small laugh. “I’m sorry about that.” That nasty feeling sinks into my gut again, and shame crawls over my skin like a swarm of insects.
He places both his hands on my face, tilting my head back until his eyes meet mine. “Don’t apologise. It’s fine.” God, if only he knew. “Just know that I’m here, always.”
I can’t look at him right now, so I lea
n in and kiss him. His lips mould to mine, keeping the pace sedate where I would sooner kick it up a gear. I want him, right now.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his fingers wind into my hair. I’m soon frantically clawing at his shirt, and grinding against him like a woman possessed.
I just want him. I want him to possess me. I want him to make me forget. I want him to erase everything that came before him, because I want him to be enough. I want him to be everything, because he should be. I want him to know that I love him, and I need him to feel it, because I need to know we’re okay. I need to know that what we have is strong and safe.
I know that my actions are fuelled by all the wrong reasons, but my guilt ridden insecurities are pushing me on. Hugo has left me completely exposed, with every glaring vulnerability on show. Alex has the ability to fix me, because that’s what he does. Hugo destroys everything around him, whilst Alex fixes everything. Hugo has broken me, and Alex will heal me. God, I need him to heal this pain.
I tighten my arms around his neck, and caress his tongue with my own. He responds, but he’s restrained.
He pulls back, breathing heavily as he watches me. “As much as I like where this is going, I really do want to talk to you.” He says.
I groan. “If you’re going to break up with me, then please at least let me have my way with you one more time.”
He frowns, his expression becoming almost stern. “I’m not breaking up with you. Why would you think that?”
“You said ‘we need to talk’. That’s never good.”
His face breaks into a smile. “This is good. I promise.” He kisses the end of my nose quickly and takes my hand, leading me through to the living room. There’s a small table in the corner, which is set for dinner.
He pulls out a chair for me, and I sit.
